Darkest Pattern- The Door

by Riva Zmajoki

  “But he did keep you on course. I failed,” Major-Domo shook his head sadly.

  “On what course?” Josephine failed to understand.

  “This, with that black woman, he would cut that in the bud,” Major-Domo continued as he’s speaking to himself. “He would throw her out of the carriage with her head first. I just sat there not realizing that a whole world is ending. She just kissed you,” he focused his glare back at her. “Why do you accept all these people instead of her? Did she promise herself to you as payment afterwards?”

  “Don’t be vulgar,” Josephine pressed her fist in anger.

  Major-Domo laughed out loud at her anger.

  “But that is what I am, a vulgar man. If I wasn’t, I would never serve you.”

  Josephine breathed in deeply trying to calm herself. He won’t ruin this for her.

  “You know,” he leaned forward with greed in his eyes. “We can carry on just the same, you and I. So what if you come to them as an education? Use that. All those young women and virgins. You teach them how to please their husbands. You’ll be doing a good deed for society. You’ll do more good that way than helping out criminals running away from justice.”

  Josephine looked at him with disgust. That sounded so awful. She could never do that consciously.

  “For nothing in the world would I stoop so low,” she said fiercely.

  “Oh, well,” he said. “I had to try.”

  He sipped the rest of his drink down his throat.

  “Where will you go?” Josephine tried to regain her composure.

  “I don’t know. I have few permanent invitations from your ex… lovers,” now he observed her carefully waiting for a reaction. “They stayed eternally grateful for setting them back to the right track. They were thankful for showing them that you are just a convenient education.”

  Josephine went stiff from shock. He leaned forward taking in her reaction, enjoying her anguish.

  “Of course, there were those who were more stubborn,” he said with satisfaction. “Those who would get stuck on you and wouldn’t want to leave. They needed to be persuaded to leave in a bit more rugged fashion.”

  Josephine’s throat constricted and no words came out.

  “Your husband taught me how to do that,” Josephine wanted to scream. “He told me how to treat different groups of women to dissuade them from staying too long.”

  Josephine thought about all those girls with tears in their eyes as they left in a rush.

  “Of course, he perfected that skill. He loved diversity,” Josephine thought of women who would turn suddenly cold towards her. “He also liked to give out your services to his colleagues. They were satisfied because you would return to them more lively mistresses and fewer prude wives.”

  Josephine thought of those girls that gave in too easily.

  “The women, after you would get your way with them, were so soft and easy to reach. It would be a pity not to try them out,” Josephine’s breath became frantic as she hurriedly lifted her nightgown. “That’s why he would instantly throw away that black woman. Because he wouldn’t want to try her. Even if he did, he would know, as do I, that she would never lose her defences.”

  Josephine struggled with the ribbons around her pistol.

  “Did that turn you on?” Major-Domo looked at her knees. “I always wanted to tell you that we share them. It’s a pity for this last one. I would really like to…”

  His words were finally stopped when he faced the black opening of the pistol. His face went pale and distorted. The pleasure was gone. He got up. Josephine followed him with her aim.

  “You lied to me,” he shouted. “She was here and I lied for you not even knowing that I lie. She was here. Surely, she did you good for all of this.”

  Josephine’s hand shook under the strain to stay still.

  “Shut up,” she barely spoke. “You lied to me for years. What is one secret in all those years compared to that?”

  “I protected you from yourself. You would get stuck for some young fool and the two of you would hang together so everyone could see your shame. This way you had status, you had it all.”

  “Nothing, I had nothing. Only lies, lies and pain. I can’t imagine,” Josephine fought tears. “I can’t imagine to what cruelty I exposed all those poor girly. I gave them out to monsters.”

  “I don’t know. To me it seemed that they are enjoying it,” he sneered.

  “And those,” her finger shook on the trigger, “those who left in tears, those you were rugged with?”

  “That was necessary,” he crossed his arms across his chest. “Everything would be ruined if they stayed.”

  “Go away! Right now or your insides will end up on the wall behind you. I owe you nothing. Noting!”

  “Neither do I to you,” he spat under her feet. “You sold yourself and for what? To whom? She isn’t even beautiful.”

  Tears broke out to Josephine’s eyes.

  “Like you could ever know what beauty is? You smeared everything. Everything. Go away.”

  “I was going to anyway,” he straightened his jacket. “I won’t say anything good about you.”

  “You don’t need to. Your words are worthless.”

  He turned and marched out with his head held high. Josephine stayed shivering with her pistol uselessly aimed at nothing.

  After a while, Sue came in. She approached Josephine slowly and pressed her palm on Josephine’s hand. Josephine let her disarm her. When her hand divorced from the pistol it just fell flat by her side without the agency of any kind.

  Sue placed the pistol on the fire mantle. Then she returned to Josephine and led her to the armchair. She returned with Ina in her arms and seated her on the rug before Josephine’s feet. She gave Ina a rag doll and went out. When she returned again, she had a platter with tea and cookies in her hands. Then she just left Ina on the floor before Josephine like it’s just an ordinary day.

  Josephine stared at Ina playing and thought how Sue is truly a stupid woman. Who leaves their child with a crazy woman that wields a gun?

  After that thought, Josephine noticed how Ina has grown. Ina was already crawling around by herself, not far, and not really successful, but she could reach her doll when she would throw it. That gave Josephine a measure of time, of just how much time did it pass by since Belva left. Thinking of her name reminded Josephine of Belva’s smile. That smile finally made her cry. She embraced herself rocking under the pressure of inner sadness.

  Ina looked at her confused. Then just crawled to her side and started to pull on Josephine’s skirt.

  “You don’t want to go to me, little one,” Josephine said to her. “I’m dirty.”

  Ina answered something on her toddler’s language. That made Josephine smile so she took the baby in her arms.

  Soon Ina became restless so Josephine put her back down on the floor and poured herself some tea. She’ll live through this. She’ll live through this one more thing.

  8.1 The Play

  Charcoaled House

  The night the baby came was the worst night of Sue’s life.

  After that event, everything else seemed less scary. The world, instead of being a threatening hostile place, became understandable.

  Sue now knew what her role in life was. She was to care for her daughter Ina and protect her from any harm.

  Her mistress seemed to share that vision. Whenever Sue would find her mistress around Ina it would always be to remove some threat. She would move a book from the ledge above Ina’s crib that Sue moved around as she worked.

  Sue disliked being separated from Ina. Within sight, was the best place for her baby she could think of.

  Others in the household helped her to get through her first days but as soon as her legs stood firm on the ground again she made an effort to integrate Ina in her daily routine.

  It seemed that the mistress isn’t objecting in Ina’s presence so Sue carried her in the rooms as she made them clean except when she woul
d go in the dark rooms to clean. Then she would be careful to leave Ina inside of White Phoenix.

  Luckily, Tricia and Cynthia were more than keen in caring for Ina but their sense of caring faded as soon as it stopped being entertaining for them.

  Unlike them, the mistress didn’t show any signs of distress if Ina would start to cry when Sue wasn’t in the room. On the contrary, she would pick her up to console her and sometimes Sue would watch her do so just to learn the right amount of touch, to learn what is enough to console the baby because the mistress would never take their contact further, into something uncomfortable for a baby.

  Sue would find them like that and the mistress would hand her Ina in a rush like she’s apologizing for stepping in.

  The things that didn’t concern Ina didn’t bother Sue.

  That’s how the runaway slaves became a backdrop for her life. Tricia and Cynthia would gossip about the newcomers and had opinions about everyone that passed through their kitchen.

  Sue was just careful to tend to their needs and keep out of their business.

  The Major-Domo wasn’t as charitable towards runaways and that he made all too clear to everyone who stayed after that first night.

  The first night was when Sue gave birth so she had no way of choosing then. They asked her what she thinks as soon as she came to her senses.

  To her, it seemed like faith that aided to the survival of her labour and she accepted it as such, as a miracle that is needed for the grace to save them all from their life of sin.

  Of that, she thought as the Major-Domo gave his resignation following it with foul words.

  There was no need for that. They all knew who their mistress was the whole time and there was no point in pretending that she’s something new.

  Especially now, when she finally did something worthy of praise with her life.

  That’s why, in the lack of anything else to give for consolation, she put Ina before the mistress and left her there.

  It was to signal to her that Sue is alright with her help and that her help is valued.

  Afterwards, Ina and the mistress became friends and Sue was fine with that. In her life in this household, Sue had seen many things and what she saw taught her that true value isn’t in words, even the wicked deeds they might hide from you, but in how well do they treat you.

  Being a pregnant unmarried woman, Sue had experienced people turning on her abandoning her where she stood to die of starvation.

  Her mistress, when presented with accusations, didn’t bat an eye. She just looked at her up and down.

  “She looks the same as yesterday,” she said harshly. “Back to work and don’t bring up the same nonsense before me again.”

  Sue cried then. It all seemed too harsh for her but now it looked differently. Her mistress refused to throw her out on the street that day and never once referred her in any other fashion than respectful.

  To return her with anything else but respect would be sinful beyond anything the preacher said at the church she was banned from visiting.

  As time passed by, Carol was more and more dismayed. The boredom consumed him.

  His tasks became hollow and meaningless.

  All the joy he took in his job, was from the anticipation of new meetings, new conquests.

  Without it, the world became dull.

  There was no point in keeping the house up to the highest standards when no one came to visit, no one saw his efforts.

  The worst thing yet were the filthy slaves in his kitchen. They would sit there staring at him with their wide eyes and all Carol could think of was his old master and his whip.

  Surely, that whip had to be there somewhere if the mistress didn’t throw it away. If he was allowed, Carol would take the whip and chase out all the filth from the house and make everything right again.

  As days passed them by, Carol’s hope that everything will come back to normal withered.

  When he finally decided that nothing will ever get better again, he got up and packed his suitcase. He gathered his letters that were directed at him from his former lovers and started to drink.

  He tried to decide to which door he’ll knock first. Who was the most pleasurable company?

  When he decided, all he needed to do was to go to his mistress and say his goodbyes.

  There was a glimmer of hope within him that she’ll come to her senses, that she’ll continue the great life that they had together.

  As expected, the mistress watched him with contempt and Carol couldn’t take it anymore. He told her all like it was.

  “Your task will be,” his master told him at his death bed. “To protect her from herself. Protect her from the truth that is the only way she can thrive. If she ever knew, she would ruin it all from the pure spite.”

  He once again proved to be right.

  Carol was ready to go when his mistress pulled out a familiar pistol.

  The sight of the pistol and its unreadable inscription enraged him. That damned woman came in without him noticing her. She was the reason his mistress went mad.

  Carol exited the house of sin angry.

  He had failed his master. He had failed at his mission.

  Still, his mistress didn’t deserve better. She brought her doom to her own door and he won’t wait to see her burn. Whatever comes to her, she invited it in. Carol won’t be the one to get back here ever again.

  ‘If she ever finds out about you, if she ever sees you dancing,’ the master talked. ‘Never admit the whole scale of the play. Just leave with the head ducked down. Maybe you’ll need her one day, maybe you get tired of the play and wish to be someone new. She was reborn so many times that she has to have the knowledge of how to change. Even if she sees you misstep in your dance, her flames are big enough to forgive you, but if she sees the play you’ll never find your way back to her.’

  8.2 The Fallen Women

  White Phoenix

  Cynthia found the new baby strange. It wasn’t repulsive but she had no desire to hold her. She would look at her from the safe distance and wave things at her trying to make her smile.

  Tricia would pick her up but would quickly put her back down and moved away in tears.

  Cynthia didn’t want to develop such strange reactions so she kept her distance from the baby. Unfortunately, the baby grew and soon it would crawl to Cynthia’s side and pull her dress.

  With a sigh, Cynthia would pick Ina up and showed her what she was doing. To her, that seemed more than friendly. When she would explain to her what she’s doing she would put her back down to go on her way.

  For the black folks in the kitchen, she didn’t care much either. The mistress took them in. Sue declared that it is alright to help them and Cynthia said nothing.

  Still, she made sure that her chores keep her away from the kitchen while they were in the house. She had no desire to clean up after them like she was their servant.

  What is enough, is enough.

  Tricia was annoyed by Santos’ behaviour to the point that she intercepted him on the pathway one day.

  “What are you thinking?” she stormed at him. “It’s not alright to talk to Cynthia like that. You’ve gotten in her head. It’s not fair of you to do that. I know it’s all a game to you but she thinks it’s real.”

  In the first second, he withdrew but when she finished he smiled. The smile was beyond her comprehension.

  “Jealous?” he finally said and she attacked him with all her might.

  “You stupid, stupid man,” she hit his chest.

  He didn’t defend himself but just stepped backwards.

  “How vain you are? It’s not alright to use us like that,” she was on the verge of tears.

  He was pressed against the tree trunk just taking in her anger so she finally stopped herself.

  “You idiot, won’t you defend yourself. Anyone can beat you like that,” she stepped back adjusting her hair.

  “From a man, it’s easy to defend yourself but my mother taught me
to respect women. She would smite me if I hurt you.”

  “What would she say on leading on strayed women?” Tricia crossed her arms under her breasts.

  “I’m not leading on no one. I was just being polite towards her. I thought that it was clear that I’m courting you.”

  Tricia stepped back.

  “That wasn’t courting. You barely talked to me. Besides, we’re not women you can court. There is no honourable outcome to that courtship.”

  “Why not?” he asked carefully.

  “How thick are you?” Tricia was angry now. “Shouldn’t you be the boy who knows it all? All the rumours and whispers. That’s why you’re here, aren’t you? You ask too many questions and are far too smart for just sitting around with us.”

  Santos seemed genuinely confused.

  “I hear stuff but I don’t use them for nothing bad. I’m just curious and I don’t like to ask indelicate questions if you didn’t notice.”

  She did notice how he would just skip around some topic Cynthia would like to discuss. If he wanted to know about runaway slaves, he should just let her talk or catch her alone like Tricia did Santos just now.

  When she realized that they are out of sight from the house Tricia felt discomfort and stepped one more step back. He didn’t move.

  “Why can’t I court you? I can ask in the town and find out rumours but I would rather that you tell me,” he said quietly.

  “I had a child,” she lifted her chin up. “An illegitimate child.”

  “The child died?”

  “I left him to his father,” she squeezed her fists. “You understand now, we are here because we are ruined women. That’s what keeps us here. We’re not women that you can present to your mother and feel pride.”

  Tricia went to leave.

  “My mother would like you,” he said to her back.

  “Never lie to me like that,” she growled without looking back and marched back into the house.

  She was so mad that she went to wash dishes and cry into the water. Life was too cruel for her to accept it.

  Santos felt good about himself. He was on the verge of forgetting about his task of finding his father. Life was comfortable.