Chapter 5
CHAPTER
FIVE
My alarm clock buzzes before dawn, and I drag myself off the lumpy mattress.
Sometimes I think I’d be better off just sleeping on the old carpet.
Our community dumpsters get emptied by the waste company every Monday, so I have to be up early to drag everyone’s garbage cans down and empty them. It’s one of my servant duties.
I run a brush through my hair, surprised at how much it’s grown back in a year and a half.
I’ll have to trim it soon. Keeper told me it must not grow past my shoulders.
It’s supposed to mark me as different from the others, remind me I don’t have the status of the daughters and wives, but I’ve learned that I like it short.
It’s much cooler in the summer. Besides, it’s far from the only thing that sets me apart.
The dilapidated trailer where I stay isolated from the collective sits well away from the other trailers and houses.
It used to belong to a steward who upgraded to a house once he married.
They moved it to a spot where they can pretend I don’t exist, but not so far that I could run away without being seen. No one ever sets foot inside but me.
Some of the people act like I might infect them with something or that their god might be pissed if they talk to me. Others don’t mind me but are careful not to show it. In case it puts them on Keeper’s or the governors’ bad side. Sometimes I think the whole world may run on fear.
The first few months were incredibly hard, and I cried myself to sleep most nights.
To survive days where the only words spoken to me were orders, just to come back to the little trailer and spend nights by myself was a loneliness I’d never experienced before.
I’ve adjusted and come to a realization.
As much as they all hate me, I’m luckier than them.
I don’t have to follow the same rules. The haircut thing is only one example.
They’ve banned me from going to gathering or any of their fellowship nights.
I’m only here to work. They all look down their noses at me, but some show it more than others.
I’m not sure who started calling me by the name Sinful instead of Sybil but it caught on.
Things aren’t great, but I think I’d be more miserable if I was a wife. They do just as much work as I do, cleaning up after their kids, waiting hand and foot on their husbands, along with whatever work the collective assigns them. They’re as much a servant as I am, but they don’t see it.
Jane has remained my friend as much as she’s allowed.
On the occasional day that she works alongside me with her baby strapped to her chest, cooking the fruit preserves or labeling the jars, we get to catch up.
Just listening to her chatter about the TV shows she watches or gossiping about the other wives relieves some of the loneliness.
Robins sing in the dark outside my windows as I layer on some clothes.
Wisconsin in January feels like you’ve walked into a giant freezer.
At least there’s no snow on the ground today.
The beam of my flashlight sputters when I step outside, earning it a smack to bring it back to life.
I start with the garbage cans outside of Steward Harold’s place.
They reek of soiled diapers, and I can hear the wails of their twins, born only a few months ago.
Grabbing one can in each hand, I wheel them down to the end of our road where the dumpsters wait. The two pairs of gloves I’m wearing pull double duty, keeping my hands from getting gross as well as keeping them warm. I wheel the cans back, then head to the next trailer to repeat the process.
Troy is parking one of the community trucks in front of his trailer when I grab his trash can. He hops out of the driver’s seat with a wide smile. “Hey, let me help.”
It isn’t the first time he’s offered, and I know better than to argue. He’ll just do it anyway. Instead, I nod and grab the second can. “Thanks.”
Like Jane, Troy is still friendly to me.
He has far more freedom than Jane since he became a steward and moved out of the sons’ dorm.
He doesn’t act like the other stewards, and I often wonder if he’s also thinking about running as soon as he turns eighteen.
That’s only six months away for him. The thought of not seeing him again is awful, but I’d still be happy for him. He doesn’t belong here either.
We talk on our way, and he makes me laugh by telling me how Governor James split his pants in the middle of gathering when he bent over. “They ripped all the way from nut to butt. And he wears tighty whities. I did not need to know that.”
His eyes light up at my laughter. I’d never tell anyone, but when I lie in my trailer at night, I fill my head with a fantasy where Troy and I run away together. We end up on our own tropical island where we grow our own fruit and spend the days lying on the beach. Just being together.
By the time we get the cans down to the dumpsters, the sky has started to lighten, giving the landscape an eerie look. I’m shivering and thinking about the hot tea I plan to make as soon as I’m done, when a police car comes rolling up the road.
We duck behind one of the dumpsters to watch as Governor Harlan and Steward Charles walk down the road toward it.
“What’s going on?” I whisper.
“I don’t know. Nothing good,” Troy replies.
The squad car stops and two cops get out.
They approach the governor and steward while my mind races.
Are they in trouble? The four men gather to talk in front of the car, but I can’t make out anything they’re saying.
Governor Harlan shakes his head and motions to Steward Charles, saying something that makes them all laugh.
The officer walks back to open the rear door and pulls a woman out of the backseat.
“Holy shit, it’s Mindy. Steward Charles’s wife,” Troy says.
Mindy has been gone for the last three days. Gossip has swirled around the rumor that she left the collective and abandoned her kids. I wasn’t sure if that was true, but it must be.
The cop walks her to the front of the car.
She keeps her head down as her husband grabs her wrist like she’s a wayward toddler who might dart into traffic.
The cops exchange a few more words with the men before walking away.
One of them gives a friendly wave to Steward Charles before they turn the car around and leave.
As soon as the car is out of sight, Steward Charles smacks Mindy in the face. Then backhands her other cheek before she’s escorted up the road with them. We stay in my hiding spot until they’ve disappeared into Keeper’s house.
“They’re taking her to the reflection hall,” I whisper. Maybe the same room they had me in.
“Yeah,” Troy says, grabbing one of the cans again. “Come on. Let’s get back before you get in trouble.”
My heart thumps in my chest as we pull the two empty garbage cans back to his trailer. Poor Mindy. She really tried to get away but they brought her back. I don’t understand it. She’s an adult. Shouldn’t the authorities let her choose to leave?
It’s always been in the back of my mind that I just have to make it to age eighteen. Then they can’t stop me from leaving. What if that isn’t true? My feet are heavy and the wind blows colder as I walk back to my trailer. Winter suddenly feels so long.
Six weeks go by before anyone sees Mindy again. When she passes me on her way back from gathering, she looks like a different woman. A light blond fuzz is all that’s left of her hair and she’s so thin a breeze might blow her away. She keeps her head down until I softly call her name.
It takes a moment for her to decide whether to talk to me. Maybe she’s been told not to. Or maybe she’s embarrassed because a long crimson cut crosses her pale skin from one temple to the top of her lip. It’s a scar she’ll always carry.
“They cut you,” I whisper. “Because you left?”
She swallows hard, and her reply comes out in a monotone. “I abandoned my children, but I’ve been forgiven.”
“I’m sorry they hurt you.” My voice is wavery as I fight back tears. “Were you arrested?” Was leaving her kids illegal? Wouldn’t it have been kidnapping from the father if she took them with her? “Why did the police bring you back?”
She stares at me for a long moment then glances around to be sure we’re alone. “You can’t trust anyone. Anywhere,” she adds, then walks away.
I understand what she’s telling me. It’s not only the men here that pose a danger to us. We don’t matter outside this place either.