Cutler 01 - Dawn

Boston. She is in charge of our quarters. She will be here momentarily to show you your room. I will expect you to keep it neat and tidy. Just because we have a servant looking after our rooms doesn't mean we can be sloppy and disorganized."
    "I've never been sloppy, and I've always helped Momma clean and organize our apartments," I said.
    "Momma? Oh . . . yes . . . well, let that be the rule and not the exception." She paused, almost smiling, I thought, because of the way she lifted the corners of her mouth.
    "Where are my father and mother?" I asked.
    "Your mother," she said, making the word sound obscene, "is having another one of her emotional breakdowns . . . conveniently," Grandmother Cutler said. "Your father will see you shortly. He's very busy, very busy." She sighed deeply and shook her head. "This situation is not easy for any of us. And it has all occurred at the wrong time," she said, making me feel as if I were to blame for Daddy having been recognized and the police finding me. "We are right in the middle of the start of a new season. Don't expect anyone to have time to cater to you. Do your work, keep your room clean, and listen and learn. Do you have any questions?" she asked, but before I could respond, there was a knock on the door.
    "Come in," she called and the door was opened by a pleasant-looking black woman. She had her hair pinned up neatly and tied in a bun. She wore a white cotton chambermaid's uniform with white stockings and black shoes. She was a small woman, barely my height.
    "Oh, Mrs. Boston. This is . . ." My grandmother paused and looked at me as if I had just come in. "Yes," she said, listening to a voice only she could hear, "what about your name? It's a silly name. We'll have to call you by your real name, of course . . . Eugenia. Anyway, you were named after one of my sisters who had passed away from smallpox when she was no older than you are."
    "My name is not silly, and I don't want to change it!" I cried. Her eyes shifted quickly from me to Mrs. Boston and then back to me.
    "Members of the Cutler family do not have nicknames," she replied firmly. "They have names that distinguish them, names that bring them respect."
    "I thought respect was something that had to be earned," I whiplashed. She pulled herself back as if I had slapped her.
    "You will be called Eugenia as long as you live here," she declared firmly. Her voice was cold and uncaring, as if I were without ears to hear.
    "Show Eugenia," my grandmother said, "her room, Mrs. Boston. And"—she gazed at me quickly, a look of disgust on her face—"take her the back way."
    "Yes, ma'am." Mrs. Boston looked to me.
    "My name fits me," I said, unable to hold back my tears now and recalling how many times Daddy had told me about my birth, "because I was born at the break of day." Surely that couldn't have been a lie, too, not the story about the birds and the music and my singing.
    My grandmother smiled so coldly it sent a chill up my spine.
    "You were born in the middle of the night."
    "No," I protested. "That's not true."
    "Believe me," she said. "I know what is true and what is not true about you." She leaned forward, her eyes appearing long and catlike. "For your whole life you've lived in a world of lies and fantasy. I told you," she continued, "we don't have time to cater to you and pretend. We're in the middle of the season. Now, pull yourself together immediately. Members of the family do not show their emotions or their problems to the guests. As far as the guests are concerned, everything is always wonderful here. I don't want you going out and through the lobby crying hysterically, Eugenia.
    "I have to return to the dining room," my grandmother said, rising. She came around her desk and paused before Mrs. Boston. "After you show her to her room, take her to the kitchen and get her something to eat. She can eat with the kitchen staff," she said. "Then take her to Mr. Stanley so he can find her a chambermaid's uniform. I'd like her to begin work tomorrow."
    She turned back to me, pulling her shoulders back and holding her head so high, it was as if she were looking down at me from a great height. Despite my desire to do so, I couldn't look away. Her eyes pulled and held mine fixed in her glare.
    "You are to get up at seven A.M. promptly, Eugenia, and go to the kitchen for your breakfast. Then report directly to Mr. Stanley, our house manager, and he will assign you your duties. Is that all clear?" she asked. I didn't