Yes, I told myself, this was my chance to be reborn. My good looks and intellectual potential had come through for me. Admittedly, it was based on a lucky moment, but what difference did that make in the end? Didn’t Mama believe almost everything in life was bonne ou mauvaise chance? I had some good luck, and I could make something of it. Mrs. Brittany wasn’t wrong. It was up to me. I had to find the determination and the ambition. Those were two things I had definitely lacked until now.
Yes, I should be very, very happy tonight, I thought. I should have no problem sleeping. I didn’t have to worry about whether the lock on the door would hold. I didn’t have to hear sobbing and screams from other rooms. I didn’t have to hold my nose to sleep or curl up, hoping nothing would bite me or infect me. I was safe. I should be happy. Be happy, I kept telling myself. It became more like a chant in a church, except that the church I was in now was the church of pleasure and wealth.
But I wasn’t happy yet. I didn’t even want to think it, much less admit it aloud, but despite my bravado and defiance, I did miss my mother and my sister. Hell, I even missed Papa, missed his fury and his disappointments. There were also times when he was softer, even loving. He tried, but I didn’t respond in the manner he had been hoping to see. There were many times when I caught him looking at me with disdain, I had to confess, if only to myself, that there were also times when I saw his lips soften and his eyes brighten, and I knew he was thinking, She’s beautiful, and she is my daughter.
These thoughts made my heart ache, but I didn’t sob. I squeezed my eyes closed tighter and took a breath.
Soldier on, I told myself. Soldier on. The morning will bring a whole new life, a whole new world, and you will be a star in it. You’ll never want for anything. You heard Mr. Bob. You’ll find a new family here.
But as if someone was listening to my thoughts, someone invisible, my second self, whispered in the darkness, You’ll find a new family, but you won’t find the same love.
I don’t care, I chanted to myself, still in that church of pleasure and wealth. I don’t.
What greater lies are there, the other voice whispered, than the lies you tell yourself?
I didn’t want to listen to that voice. I closed my ears and willed myself to sleep.
6
I heard the sound of the curtains being drawn open, then the click of the lamp beside my bed. The light splashed on my face and popped open my eyes. When I focused, I realized Mrs. Pratt was standing there, gazing down at me full of disappointment and pity like someone looking at a body in a coffin. Her hair was the same, as was the modest makeup she wore, but this morning, she was dressed in a light gray tweed business skirt suit with a frilly white blouse. When I moaned, she clutched her hands against her chest and pursed her lips, now projecting a look of annoyance. For a moment, I forgot where I was. It had all happened so quickly yesterday that it seemed more like a dream. I pushed myself up onto my elbows and looked around the beautiful suite.
“What’s wrong? What’s happening?”
I had forgotten she had said I’d be up at six-thirty.
“Morning is happening,” she said. “And I assure you that I won’t be doing this every morning. Tomorrow and from now on, you’ll be woken by phone. You don’t have to do anything but lift the receiver and put it back, and the ringing will stop. I hope you will soon arrive at the maturity it takes to get yourself up without anyone else’s assistance. Small but essential things like that will help convince Mrs. Brittany that you have what it takes to bear adult responsibility.”
I rubbed my eyes and looked at her again as if I wanted to be sure she was really there and I wasn’t trapped in a dream. Because of the expression on her face and the tone of her voice, I was tempted to salute her the way I used to salute my father to annoy him.
“I take it you slept well,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “I didn’t hear a thing.”
“Good.”
She gazed with obvious disapproval at how I had left my new dress draped over a chair, my panties and bra on the chair, and my shoes beneath it.
“Why do you think you have a closet? Did you have a maid at home?”
“No.”
“Your mother looked after you? Even at this age?”
“Look, I was excited and wanted to get into the tub to relax as you had suggested. I didn’t expect to have a barracks inspection with the playing of reveille first thing in the morning.”
She nodded like someone agreeing with her own thoughts. “I don’t know,” she said. “You have much to recommend you, but you might be too young yet.”
“Well, I guess we’ll know soon enough, won’t we?” I countered.
“Yes, we will,” she said. “Wash your face, or do whatever you need to do, and come down to breakfast. Portia and Camelia are almost dressed and will also be there.”
“Why are they up so early? Are they just starting here, too?”
“Hardly,” she said, now smiling at me, but with condescension, making me feel like a child, after all. “Anyone could see they are top Brittany girls.”
“Well, this is the first time I’ve ever seen a Brittany girl, so I don’t have someone to measure them by. Is Mrs. Brittany up this early, too?”
“Of course. Mrs. Brittany has to go to Boston for the day, and I have things to do for her preparation. We’re all very busy here. I’ll have your schedule prepared and bring it to you in the breakfast dining room.”