Cutler 02 - Secrets of the Morning

"now you know what you have to look forward to," she added, and before I could respond, she bent over and blew out the kerosene lamp beside my bed. Then, she started away with her own, closed the door and left me in pitch darkness.
    I began to sob.
    Perhaps Miss Emily was right, I thought; perhaps I was a terrible sinner.
    For surely, I was now as close as I could be to hell on earth.

 
    13
UGLY REALITIES
     
    "Get up, get up, get out of bed, you silly, silly sleepy head," I heard someone sing.
    I unfolded myself slowly. I had been sleeping with my body as tight as a fist, the hot water bottle against my stomach. My muscles ached as I stretched out. Then I peered over the blanket toward the door. It was open, but there was no one there. Had I dreamt it?
    Someone giggled.
    "Who's there?" I asked, sitting up and embracing myself. Without the morning light through a window, the room was still quite dark, but there was some light coming through a window in the corridor.
    "Who is it?" I demanded. When she giggled again, I recognized the childlike tones. "Charlotte?"
    She stepped into the doorway. Her hair was still tied into two thick braids and she still wore the same faded pink shift with the yellow ribbon belt. I saw she continued to wear her father's old slippers, too.
    "Emily sent me to fetch you. She says you should have been up and down to breakfast already," she added, forming as serious a face as she could. "Besides," she said, changing her expression quickly to a smile, "today is my birthday."
    "Is it? That's very nice. Happy birthday," I said, yawning. I had had one of the worst nights of sleep ever. Every part of my body ached, from the back of my neck to my ankles. I was as stiff as a wet blouse frozen on a winter clothes line.
    I swung my legs over the bed and found my boots. The insides were so cold it was like stepping into a puddle of ice water. I couldn't stop rubbing my arms. Charlotte stood there staring at me and smiling.
    "How old are you, today?" I asked. Her smile evaporated quickly.
    "Oh, that's not nice. You shouldn't ask a lady how old she is," she chastised, suddenly sounding remarkably like Miss Emily. "It's not good etiquette," she recited.
    "I'm sorry."
    "But we will have a cake and you can sing 'Happy Birthday' to me. We're going to have guests, too," she added. "All the neighbors and cousins and people from as far away as Hadleyville. Even Lynchburg!"
    "That's very nice. I'm looking forward to it," I said. I lit the kerosene lamp so there would be some more light and carried it to the bathroom. "I'll be right out," I said.
    The door didn't open easily. I had to tug and tug on it. Once I opened it and looked in, I thought it would have been better had I not been able to open it. The bathroom consisted of a small, rust-stained sink and a toilet with a cracked toilet seat. A lump of lard soap lay on the edge of the sink. There was a dark gray towel and a dark gray washcloth on a wooden rack above the sink, but there was no mirror, no tub, no shower. The floor had a yellowish linoleum on it, but it was peeled and cracked in the corners and around the toilet.
    I closed the door behind me and went to the bathroom. Then I turned on the faucet marked hot, but nothing came out of it. Water only flowed from the faucet marked cold, and that water had a brown tint to it. I let it run, but it didn't clear up. Finally, having no choice, I wet the washcloth and washed my face using the horrible soap.
    I realized I had no brush for my hair. I had had a comb in my purse, but Miss Emily had taken everything last night. I ran my fingers through my hair, which already felt dirty and scraggly and then emerged from the bathroom.
    Charlotte was sitting on the bed, her hands folded in her lap. She smiled up at me. Her complexion was much softer than Miss Emily's, and there was even a bit of a rosy tint in her plump cheeks.
    "You had better not waste your kerosene," she said, "or Emily will yell. She won't give you more," she warned.
    "This is horrible," I cried. "I'm made to stay in a room without a window and there is no light except this small kerosene lamp and the kerosene is rationed."
    Charlotte stared at my outburst, her eyes wide with surprise and confusion. Then she bit down on her lower lip and shook her head emphatically from side to side.
    "Emily says there's a lot of waste going on. It's the devil's work when we don't cherish what we have and when we waste. Emily says waste not, want not. That's