Consequences

need to wear clothes?” Claire noticed her pattern of speech seemed formal. She couldn’t place the origin. It definitely wasn’t the Georgia accent she’d learned to appreciate and tried desperately not to duplicate.
    Catherine gently took Claire’s hand and walked her into the bathroom. Claire obediently sat at the dressing table as Catherine began to gently brush her hair, deciding she wouldn’t protest Catherine. Instead, she would save her energy to face Anthony.
    “There are cosmetics in the drawers in front of you. Perhaps you could begin to apply some while I do your hair.” Then she added, “You are very pretty without it, but after sleeping most of the day, I believe it will make you feel better.”
    Claire looked into the mirror. Seeing her eyes, temple, and lips, she began to cry. It wasn’t the sobs of earlier, but a rush of tears quietly flowing down her cheeks.
    “Now, miss, that will not help the situation. Mr. Rawlings appreciates punctuality. Crying will only make the cosmetics run.”
    She began to explain to Catherine her desperation, “I don’t want to face him.” But after the first sentence, she hesitated. Claire didn’t know this woman. She obviously worked for Anthony. Why would she confide in her? Then Claire looked in the reflection, not at herself but at the woman behind her. Her eyes were the color of steel, gray and soft. Her expression wasn’t one of duty or pity, but somehow Claire sensed compassion. It may have been wishful thinking, but for some reason, the words continued to flow. “After last night, I feel so . . . dirty. You don’t know what he did, what he made me do. I am too embarrassed.” Her words came accompanied by tears, and her nose began to run.
    Catherine’s voice held no judgment for either Claire or Anthony, instead a means for understanding, as if that could be possible from Claire. “I have known Mr. Rawlings for a long time. Did anything happen last night that he did not want to happen?”
    Claire shook her head no . “Everything that happened he wanted to happen.”
    “Then there is no need for you to be embarrassed. It is when you do something that he doesn’t want you to do. That is when you do not want to face Mr. Rawlings.”
    Catherine went to the cabinet, removed a washcloth, and wet it in the sink. She handed it to Claire, who compliantly wiped her face and began to apply makeup. It wasn’t long until they were satisfied with the results. The bruises were concealed quite well under a covering of foundation and powder. The lipstick made the swelling less noticeable. When Catherine entered the bathroom with the dress, Claire realized she was naked under the robe.
    “Umm, I don’t have any lingerie.”
    “Yes, miss. Do you not remember Mr. Rawlings’s rules?” Without waiting for a response, Catherine continued, “No underclothes, ever.” Claire fought the fog of last night. She couldn’t understand why the memories were so fuzzy. Yet somewhere she had some recollection of such a conversation or, more accurately, a demand. But once again, this entered the world of ridiculous. Who the hell was he that he even thought he could make such demands and they would be followed?
    Catherine assisted Claire with the dress so as not to mess her hair and makeup. Claire vowed to herself this fiasco will be over. I am not sure how or when. But I will leave here, get away from him, and go to a place where women wear underwear.
    Catherine smiled approvingly at Claire as she stepped in front of the mirror. “Mr. Rawlings will be pleased. Now I must go. He will be here soon.” The reminder of his impending arrival sucked some of the resolve from Claire’s demeanor as well as the air from her lungs. Catherine knew him. Maybe if she stayed, he would . . . Claire didn’t know how to finish that thought. He would be nice ? Let her leave ? It just seemed safer around this woman.
    “Perhaps you could stay until after his arrival?” Catherine didn’t respond, but the look of satisfaction briefly changed to sadness. Instantaneously, Claire knew that Catherine’s departure was beyond both of their control. Claire would be face-to-face with her fear, the man that abused and dominated her the night before. She also knew that he was her only means of escape. For that reason only, she would face him. “Thank you again for your help. I really doubt I will be here tomorrow. He and I will discuss it over dinner.”
    Catherine nodded. It was an