by Olga Menson
"When did you get a desk?" She asked as I closed the door and sat down. She was still wearing a sensible knee-length skirt and a loose white blouse, and I caught a brief whiff of understated perfume. It took an effort to refocus on the conversation, as being this close to her was taking my mind in inconvenient directions.
"I had some of the staff move it in when they were removing the cameras," I said, smiling wryly.
"Look," Isa said, "I've said I'm sorry, and I meant it...if there's any way I can make up for it, I will, but..."
"As a matter of fact, there is," I replied, setting my notebook on the table between us, "let's start by talking about Rachel."
I told her what I had learned about Rachel and the malware. Isa took it well, although she wasn't exactly pleased that I hadn't told her right away. Then again, Isa couldn't very well lecture me on withholding the truth. In any case, Isa wasn't that big on keeping Rachel around the house.
"I'm not advocating for revenge, Reuben. I like her. She's my friend. Hell, before this, I considered her family, but she's made an irreversible decision, and I don't think she's safe to have around."
I sighed.
"It isn't that simple."
"Isn't it? I know that you love her. I do, too, I think, but differently. It doesn't matter. We have to do the rational thing."
"Do you really love her?" I asked.
"Yes," Isa said without hesitation, "like a sister. I feel betrayed, but...I still care about her."
"I think we have to consider the context. She was hurt, badly, by our father. She was more or less purchased from her mother to be his servant, and he's been abusing her for a long time, well before she showed up here as his driver. He was never kind to her, ever. I can't share everything that she told me, but he was cruel in almost every way a person can be. She loved him, and she hated him, and when I was gone, the hate overwhelmed the love."
Isa's stern facade fragmented a little.
"I knew that he had been...intimate...with her, but I had no idea it went back that long, or that she had been adopted. She would have been so young..."
Isa's voice was stricken, and I couldn't help but worry how much of that was from a shared experience.
"There's one more mitigating factor," I added after a moment. "She's family."
"I know, Reuben, I think of her that way, too, but..."
"No, I'm speaking literally. She's our father's mistress' daughter. She's our half-sister."
Isa's mouth dropped open wide. I had been equally surprised to learn that from the documents that I'd found, but I'd had at least a little time to consider the news. I handed the file to Isa, although I knew that she'd only give it a cursory glance. After a bit, Isa stated the obvious implication.
"So she's his firstborn? And he...he just used her like that? Oh my god."
"Assuming there aren't any other mystery De Heer kids out there, yeah. She's his oldest, and despite what he had done, he still didn't think of her as his heir. He left everything to us."
"Rachel could make a good legal case for asking for part of the inheritance," Isa observed. I noted that she didn't do so in a defensive way.
"I mean, she could, but we both know that she won't. I think we need to find a way to share the family wealth with her in any case. If we offered her a share now, she'd probably break down if I'm honest. She's drowning in guilt. That's part of why I invited her into the house."
Isa turned a wry smile.
"For ease of access?"
I smiled back.
"At least you're not judging me for wanting to continue a sexual relationship with my own sister."
Isa looked away and actually blushed. I carried on unswervingly.
"So," I said, firmly, if still gently, "is there anything you want to tell me?"
"N..no. I mean...I don't have any information about the breach or whoever is attacking us. I would tell you if I did."
"I know that. I wasn't talking about the attack."
Isa's face blanched of color. Still, she shook her head in denial.
"Isa, I'd like to check something on your leg. Would you let me do that?"
As absurd as it might seem, I wouldn't touch her without her permission. I didn't understand everything about what was going on in Isa's mind. Still, I knew that her boundaries had been violated in the past, and I wouldn't add more trauma.
Isa nodded, curtly, and pushed her chair back from the desk, turning slightly towards me. I gently pushed her skirt up to her mid-thigh. She didn't resist, and I felt her legs quiver as I pushed them somewhat open. While her lacy black panties did attract my attention, most of my interest was on the nasty bruise on her inner thigh, in the shape of a bite mark. I recognized it, as I had done the damage myself.
"Tonya," I said, "It's hard to imagine that was you. You seemed so different."
Isa gave out a long, shuddering sigh before she replied. She couldn't meet my eyes.
"I can wear the wig for you if you want proof. It was expensive, made of real hair. It was worth every penny. I do calligraphy sometimes, for fun. The truth is that Tonya truly is different from me. She's someone who can enjoy being with the man she wants. She can be someone who makes you happy, Reuben. That's why I invented her."
"You don't have to...to dress up like someone else if you want me to make love to you. You must know that..."
Isa shook her head, and I saw the tears in her eyes.
"It isn't that simple. I want you, Reuben. I need you. I've never loved anyone like you, and my feelings just intensified when you came back home. But I' m... I'm different now. Things happened. I can't bear to be touched by most men, the ones I don't trust. And...and I do trust you. I trust you so much. But I feel scared and horrible and ashamed. When you look at me, like you are now, with so much love and desire in your eyes, you aren't seeing me as I am."
"I love you as you are, Isa. I do."
"Don't say that! I mean...I want you to, but...I...I'm not the same girl I was when you left."
"I'm not the same either."
"It's different! I'm different!"
Isa's voice was higher pitched and feverish with emotion. I could have stopped her but I had to know the truth, even though I suspected it already. I touched her face gently, and for once, she didn't flinch away.
"How?"
"I'm dirty! Can't you understand? Can't you see? Can't you feel it from being in a room with me? I've... I've been soiled."
"No, you haven't..."
Contradicting her was a bad idea. I didn't think of her as unclean, but I should have been listening., not speaking.
"I'M FILTHY!"
Her shout reverberated in the small room as she stood so suddenly that the wooden chair she had been sitting on toppled and fell to the floor. She looked down at it, and at the sight of it, she broke down into tears and slumped rather than sat on my bed. I stood as well and stepped over to her, but was unsure how to proceed. Only a moment of hesitation passed before I sat next to her and put my arm around her. She flinched, but only for a moment, then leaned into me a bit. I stayed silent this time. Eventually, her intense sobs slowed, and she regained control, although she was nowhere near her typical icy control. I always knew that was a mask, but the truth was that I had no real idea what it had been covering. When she spoke, it was just above a whisper.
"It wasn't bad after you left. Not for a while. I was sad, yes, but I was sure that you'd come back. Mother started working on Father almost immediately, and I could tell that his rage was only part of what he was feeling. He was proud of you, you know? For living on your own, supporting yourself, making your own way. He called it living uncompromisingly, which surprised me. To me, you had been living meekly, happy to learn and dwell at the edges of things. I pitied you. I didn't start to truly understand what had been lost until almost a year had passed."
"You'd transferred schools by then," she said, reciting my history matter of factly, "And were close to graduation. Mother was the one keeping tabs on you then, m
ostly. She told me that you'd gotten into a good graduate program. She knew about us, I think. She told me many details of your life. Nothing too private mind you, just the sort of things an observer might find. You were doing well. You had few friends, but they were close. Your grades were excellent. She always omitted the women that I knew you were seeing."
"There weren't that many," I noted, feeling bad at that moment for there having been even one. Isa looked at me then, her eyes red, but not accusatory, just sad.
"No, but there shouldn't have been any. At least in my mind, that was how it was. You were mine, back then at the mansion and forever. You needed to come home and apologize to me for your sins and then we could be together again. That was how naive and foolish I was. I don't know. Maybe it could have worked that way. That was before I betrayed you."
My eyebrows arched involuntarily, and I'm sure my eyes grew wide.
"Betrayed?"
"Yes. And no. This is hard, Reuben. Sarah says that I never did, but she's devoted to me. And you, by the way, if in a different fashion. It doesn't matter what either of us thinks, I suppose. I'll tell you what happened and you can decide for yourself."
I took her hand in both of mine then and kept my face serene. My mind was a storm of emotions, but no matter what she had said, I remained skeptical of her so-called betrayal. She sighed then, deep and tired, but carried on speaking.
"Almost a year to the day, Father came to see me. It was in my old room. The one I don't sleep in anymore. That was odd in and of itself. He was strange."
"How so?"
"He was angry, not at me, but at everything. He cursed Mother, which was unlike him, for pressuring him to bring you home. Then I made a mistake. I don't know why he was really there, but I asked, no, I demanded to know when you would come home."
"What did he do?" I almost held my breath. I had no idea what happened, but it was terrible.
"He struck me. Not overly hard, like he hit you, but with the back of his hand. I fell onto the bed. He didn't even seem angry, just cold. He told me to get dressed and come downstairs. No, that's not right. He told me to 'make myself appealing and be downstairs on the double.' His voice had a hard edge, and I could tell that he was enjoying himself. When I came downstairs, I wasn't particularly worried. That changed quickly."
"Why?"
"Mom was there. She looked...I don't know how to explain it. She looked so sad and knowing and she hugged me. Then she went upstairs. I swear that she was crying."
"That is odd."
"So by then, I was a little worried, but I had no idea. Reuben, you have to believe me. If I had known, I would have..."
Isa cut off again, her voice hitching up.
"What happened?"
"I lied to you," Isa said, then laughed bitterly, "What else is new, right? Well I was a good and obedient daughter and followed Father and Rachel out to the car. Father ignored me and Rachel was silent as a statue, which I understood. She spoke to me when we were alone, but never when Father was in our presence. I knew where we were as soon as we pulled up. I suppose running would have been pointless. The guards would have stopped me. Maybe Rachel, too, I don't know."
"You were at the Brigantine, weren't you?"
"Yes. I told you that I never was and...and...I told you about mother being there. That part is true, but I only know because she shared her journals with me before she died. I was sent there for the same reasons. Education and...and initiation."
I realized then that I didn't want to hear this. I quite selfishly wanted to hold her or kiss her just to shut her up. I felt ashamed almost immediately. She took my hand in both of hers. Slowly, she began to speak again.
"I've got to get this out. I need to. I need you to hear it. You...you don't have to do anything after that. I got out and Father led me inside after giving me a mask. I still have it somewhere. It was a golden fawn. Rachel stayed in the car, as I suppose she always did. We were led to a small lounge downstairs. It was just off of the stage, and you could hear people playing and laughing and fucking, although it was otherwise hushed."
Isa stopped again, took a deep breath, and continued.
"I knew what was going to happen to me then. There was no way I could not have. There were men in the room. Naked men. Maybe ten of them. It could have been more or less. All were masked although some I recognized as friends or associates of father. I looked at him then, eyes wide, still hoping beyond hope that he would stop this."
"What did he do?"
"I'll never forget what he said. It's the most vivid memory I have of that night. He looked down at me coldly and said, 'Good girls service men as they're instructed. Bad girls get their brother returned to them one piece at a time.' I looked over. One older man, our aunt's husband, I think, removed my dress. It was a blue that I particularly liked. He stripped me of it. I insisted on removing my own undergarments. It was the last thing I had control over that night. They 'allowed' me to keep my high heels on."
"Oh my god, Isa..."
"Wait. Please. I need to get this out. You need to hear...what I am. They took turns. Some wanted my mouth, or hands. They were easy. Some were even gentle. Most were not. Most wanted my pussy. One used my ass. It went on for so long, Reuben. I swear it was hours. No one hit me, but my hair was pulled, I was spanked, bruised, called names. They laughed as I started to cry. Oh god, and I was aroused...not the whole time, but parts. I couldn't stop it, Reuben, I couldn't!"
I was too stunned to speak. She went on, as if afraid that she would lose her nerve.
"Father watched. The whole time. He never joined in, but he drank his whiskey and he sat and watched. I suppose to make sure that they didn't go too far or that I didn't try to get away and make him look bad. When they were done using me, they left me sobbing on a couch. Someone threw me a towel, while they made jokes with Father and talked about the stock market. I tried to clean myself. I still try. It doesn't matter. I'll never be clean."
"Isa, that's not true."
"It is! Didn't you hear me? And that wasn't the only time. I suppose some men enjoyed me a bit too much. Or Father enjoyed watching me. I don't know. What I do know is that once every month or two, during a business meeting, he would look at me. I would know that I would be expected to 'entertain' whoever we were meeting with. Usually a man, sometimes a woman. Sometimes a group. I got used to it. I told myself that I enjoyed it. I said to myself that it would help me forget you. I lied to myself because it was the only control I had."
"Oh, god. Oh my god I am so sorry, Isa."
She laughed bitterly.
"You were the one man who never hurt me. Who held me and loved me the way I needed. It doesn't matter, I suppose. One day, everything changed."
"What happened?"
"There was one particularly bad...encounter at the house. I was hurting, sore, bruised. I hadn't even managed to get to my feet yet. Father and his 'guest' had closed the door behind themselves, but they hadn't bother locking it. Mother came in. She saw me there, exposed, on the floor. I suppose I was crying. I must have been. She and I locked eyes."
"And then?"
"And then...nothing. She turned and closed the door. I got myself together and managed to get back to my room. This was before Sarah was here, obviously, but Senga came and she helped me a bit. Painkillers and empathy, mostly."
"Mother didn't do anything?"
"I assumed that she was disgusted with me, although I suppose she must have called Senga. But it stopped. I was confused and afraid, but I finally relaxed a bit. And then Father passed away just a few weeks later. I'd never felt such relief."
"Oh, god, I'm so sorry. I don't even...if I had stayed maybe..."
"If you had stayed, then he would have used me to control you the same way. You wouldn't let him hurt me, would you?"
"No."
"So he would have got what he wanted. An heir who he could mold into his own shape. He could have forced you to do things, terrible things. And eventually, you might have even come t
o like them. Maybe, one day, you'd have ended up doing them to me, and I could never have coped with that. Besides, Mother and I were both pleased that you got out, even if it was accidental. You made Father so angry that he simply expelled you. He always planned on bringing you back at some point, or in his will. We kept you away, for a little longer. Mother would have reached out to you in another year and quietly written you back into her will."
"Why wait? I would have come home for you, Isa. I would have been here for you and...I didn't need the damn money for that. I love you!"
"Don't you understand? You weren't in the will because everyone knew that you were estranged. If you had any chance of making any money out of Father's death, you would have been a suspect. And it never would have ended, because no one would think that you would have done it yourself. You would have had a hitman. This way, when he died, you stayed far away."
"But father died of natural..."
I let it trail off. I felt stupid, knowing what I did now.
"Go ahead and ask. It's safe here. No one is listening. I don't mind answering."
"What if I don't want to?"
Isa scoffed. Her green eyes grew hard.
"Just do it. Do it, and then you'll know, and you can leave and never come back. I'll make sure you get your share of the inheritance."
I blinked.
"Is that what you think of me? That I would leave you?"
"Yes. You did it before. No, I know that isn't fair. I know that when you had your argument things got serious and father threatened you. I know that had I supported you, I could have come with you. I also know that you are a person of principle, unlike...unlike me."
"I won't abandon you. I always thought you were safe here, and would be happy once you reached adulthood. I wanted to reconnect with you because I love you. I don't blame anyone for defending themselves. You should know that."
Isa's voice turned sad, her typically cold eyes welling up. It was the first time in many years I remembered her crying.
"She loved you, you know. Mother, I mean. In a way, your defiance made her proud. She was proud of your success despite denying your heritage. It was strange to see in a woman who could be so reserved..."
