Cutler 05 - Darkest Hour

bad thing. Now something terrible would happen to him and once again, it would be my fault.
     
    Papa woke first in the morning. He groaned and then shouted for me to wake.
    "Give me that urine bottle," he ordered. I hopped out of bed and handed it to him. While he relieved himself, I quickly got into my bathrobe and slippers. When he was finished, I took the bottle into the bathroom and emptied it. But no sooner had I done that when he began to yell for his breakfast.
    "Hot coffee and eggs this morning. I'm ravishingly hungry." He slapped his hands together and smiled. Could he have forgotten what he had done the night before? I wondered. There was no remorse, no guilt in his face.
    "Yes, Papa," I said, avoiding his eyes and starting for the door.
    "Lillian," he called. I turned, but kept my eyes lowered. Even though he had forced himself on me, it was I who felt ashamed. "Look at me whenever I speak to you," he demanded. I raised my head slowly. "That's better. Now then," he said, "you're doing a good job of taking care of me. I'm sure I'll get better faster because of it. And when someone does a good deed like you're doing, she makes up for some of the bad things she's done. The Lord is merciful. Just remember that," he said.
    I swallowed back my urge to cry and smothered the moan that was trying to make its way up my throat. What about last night? I wanted to scream. Will the Lord forgive that too?
    "Will you remember that?" he asked. It had the resonance of a threat instead of a question.
    "I will, Papa."
    "Good," he said. "Good." He nodded and I hurried out and down to the kitchen to get him his breakfast. Emily was already up and waiting at the table. I was sure she would know what had happened the moment she set eyes on me and recalled how she had found me the night before, but she looked at me no differently than she did every other morning. Her face was filled with the same contempt, the same disgust.
    "Good morning, Emily," I said as I headed toward the kitchen. "I have to get Papa his breakfast."
    "Just a minute," she snapped. I hesitated, but tried not to look directly at her.
    "Did you do what you had to do last night to keep yourself clean?"
    "Yes, Emily."
    "You should keep track of your monthly time, keep track of it so it doesn't come as a surprise. Just remember why it comes—to remind us always of Eve's sin in Paradise."
    "I will, Emily."
    "Why did you sleep so late? Why weren't you in my room this morning to empty my chamberpot?" she asked quickly.
    "I'm sorry, Emily, but . . ." I raised my eyes to her. Maybe, if I explained how it had happened . . . "But Papa was cold last night and . . ."
    "Never mind all that," she said quickly. "I told you . . . you have to maintain your regular penance as well as look after all of Papa's needs. Do you understand?"
    "Yes, Emily."
    "Hmm," she said. She pursed her lips and squeezed her eyes into slits of suspicion. I decided if she asked me why I had gone to my real mother's picture, I would tell her. I would spit it at her. But she didn't ask because she didn't really care why I was in that room, sobbing.
    "All right," she said after a moment. "When you're finished with Papa, go to my room and empty the pot."
    "Yes, Emily." I released a trapped breath and continued into the kitchen where I found Vera was making Mamma some tea.
    "I looked in on her this morning," Vera explained. "She said she had a bellyache and wanted nothing else."
    "Mamma is sick?"
    "She was probably eating those sweet chocolates all night and overdid it," Vera said. "I swear she forgets from one moment to the other how many she's already eaten. How's the Captain this morning?"
    "He's hungry," I said and told her what Papa wanted. Vera stared at me a moment.
    "Are you all right, Lillian?" she asked softly. "You look on the pale side and tired." I shifted my eyes quickly.
    "I'm fine, Vera," I replied, and bit down on my lower lip to lock up the screams and the cries that wanted to rush out. Vera remained skeptical but prepared Papa's breakfast quickly. I took the tray and left. I wanted to stop in and see Mamma on my way back up with Papa's breakfast, but Emily followed behind and rushed me along, forbidding it.
    "His food will only get cold and he'll be upset," she warned. "You can look in on Mamma later. I'm sure it's nothing anyway. You know how she is."
    Papa looked disappointed when he saw Emily follow me into his room. I set his tray on his bed table and then, before he could begin,