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Becka’s eyes opened and immediately snapped closed again. The morning light coming in from her large bay window was enough to cause a piercing headache unlike anything she’d ever felt before. When she attempted once more to open her eyes, bile rose into her throat, and she forcefully swallowed it down to avoid the attention of her Martha, or worse, her mother.
After arriving home from the ball, her mother had flown into a rage when she saw the way Becka stumbled in through the door. Mrs. Grove, who was usually mild-mannered and had never once laid a hand on Becka, backhanded her so hard across the face that it caused her lip to split open and her wedding ring to leave a cut on Becka’s cheek. Becka froze when this happened and stood in horror as she felt blood flow from her newly injured lip, down her chin, and spill onto her dress.
Becka glanced down at her pillow after sitting up in bed and noticed it too had become bloodstained. She brought her finger to lip and winced when she touched it, before doing the same to her cheek. The pain and swelling would serve as a constant reminder of what a disappointment she was to her family.
“Come on now, Miss Becka,” her Martha whispered. She’d been witness to Mrs. Grove’s uncharacteristic rage the night before, and had picked up the broken pieces of the music box that was thrown in Becka’s direction. It had somehow missed her and shattered against the wall instead. She then had done her best to clean up Becka’s face before putting her to bed. “You don’t want to be late getting down to breakfast.”
The bile threatened to rise up again at the thought of eating anything. “Thank you, Gloria. I’m sorry for the mess,” Becka said, her dry throat making her voice come out raspy.
When she stood up, she swayed back and forth until Gloria gently grabbed her shoulders. “We need to get some food into you.” She pushed Becka’s hair out of her eyes and then glanced down at Becka’s injuries before heading to the wardrobe to get her school uniform.
Gloria had been with the Groves forever; as long, if not longer than Becka herself. She was older than most Marthas, and thus frailer and slower. Mr. Grove, lacking Commander status, did not receive first choice when Martha’s were paired and had to select from the leftovers that Commanders discarded after forming Gilead.
Becka often wondered if she too was a discarded, unwanted leftover that her family had reluctantly chosen.
In her eyes, the Commanders had made the correct choice when they left her behind for the professionals. Being a gender traitor in a professional family was horrific enough, but being a Commander’s daughter and a gender traitor? The pressure and the shame would have consumed her more than they already had.
Her fate would have remained the same, though. If she had been a child worthy of being a first choice, she would merely be miserable in a larger house, with a higher-ranking husband, and would be responsible for hosting monthly tea parties.
Once she was dressed and Gloria had dutifully placed her dark hair in a neat bun, Becka knew it was time to face her mother. As she slowly made her way down the stairs, with Gloria just ahead of her, she did her best to avoid chewing her nails. It was a nervous habit she’d developed during childhood, and it drove her mother crazy.
“Gloria!” Mrs Grove snapped as soon as they stepped foot in the kitchen. “Breakfast is really not up to par today!”
“My apologies, Mrs. Grove,” Gloria said as she rushed over to the kitchen counter and began fussing over the food.
Her mother rarely snapped at Gloria. Not to say she was kind to her, mostly just indifferent. Becka knew if Gloria was being spoken to this way, then she was really in for it.
“Good morning, Mother,” she said, her voice trembling despite her best effort to sound composed.
Mrs. Grove did not offer a response Becka’s way. However, Becka did notice the anger that flashed through her mother’s eyes before she slammed her coffee down and stood up. Becka watched as a small amount of coffee ran down the front of her mother’s dress, much like the blood had run down her own dress the night before. As Mrs. Grove left the kitchen, her shoulder brushing roughly against Becka’s, causing her to stumble.
“All will be well, Miss Becka,” Gloria said softly as she prepared Becka’s breakfast plate. “You’ll be matched with a fine husband, and Mrs. Grove will be so proud of you.”
A fine husband. Was there such a thing? If there was, she certainly would not be matched with him. She’d likely be matched with an angry, creepy old man on his fifth or sixth wife. Forced to lie with him and bear his children. Maybe she’d get lucky and perish during childbirth like so many wives and handmaids had before her.
Becka grimaced as the smell of eggs hit her when she sat down and Gloria placed her plate in front of her. The bile threatened to make itself known again. She couldn’t bring herself to even consider taking a bite and instead cradled her head in her hands as she closed her eyes and tried to remember the events of the ball.
She remembered the way the alcohol burnt her throat as she chugged back the entire glass. It hurt, but not nearly as much as seeing the way Agnes was looking at Garth as they danced hurt.
She remembered how heavy Commander Maddox’s hands felt on her waist. They were so suffocating they might as well have been wrapped around her neck. His breath had been hot on her face when he leaned in far too close to tell her something she couldn’t care less about.
She remembered she’d reached her limit when she felt him slyly place his lips on her ear. She pulled away as politely as possible and mumbled some sort of apology before stumbling off.
She remembered the room spinning as if she were dancing again and her feet not cooperating. Each step required extensive thought and only got harder as she continued across the dance floor.
She felt eyes on her. And had wondered if Agnes was witnessing her downfall. Becka hadn’t cared that the Commanders, young and old, Aunts, and other Greens had seen the spectacle of her drunkenly stumbling through the ballroom, but for the first time, she’d hoped Agnes wasn’t looking at her.
Becka’s memory got fuzzier from there. She remembered leaving the ballroom and then someone wrapping their arms around her shoulders in an attempt to steady her.
Shu! Right, it was Shunamite.
What Shunamite said to her, though, she couldn’t recall. She knew she had brought her to someone, but Becka’s mind had trouble placing who it was.
She closed her eyes tightly to force herself to remember more details. And then it started coming back.
The white dress.
Daisy.
Shu had brought her to Daisy.
It only took a few seconds for something else to hit her: what she’d said to Daisy in the bathroom.
“Not the way I love her.”
Becka’s heart began to beat so fast and so hard she thought she actually might pass out. How could she have said that? And to a Pearl Girl. Other than the Aunts, a Pearl Girl was the absolute worst person to have confessed such a sin to.
Pearl Girls lived for the chance to tattle on a Plum or a Green. And Becka had given Daisy her secret on a platter. She needed to get to school to stop Daisy before she told the Aunts of Becka’s confession of love for Agnes.
“Miss Becka, please. You need to eat,” Gloria said as Becka rose from the table.
Just the word eat made Becka feel sick, and she shook her head. “I have to get to school.” Becka brought her own plate to the sink before turning to leave.
“At least let me do one thing,” Gloria said as she rummaged through a bag on the counter.
Becka sighed. Daisy could be meeting with Aunt Lydia right now. Or, maybe she already had, and the aunts were all trying to figure out what to do with their latest gender traitor. She was fertile, so it was unlikely that they’d have her killed; and that’s what scared Becka the most.
Gloria walked over to her with a small vial of ointment. “We don’t want these to get infected.” Her frail, wrinkled hand shook slightly as she applied a small amount to Becka’s lip and cheek.
Even though Gloria was gentle, it still hurt, and Becka fought the urge to pull away. “Thank you, Gloria,” she said after the application was done. She didn’t wait for a response before rushing out of the kitchen and out the front door.
She needed to get to Daisy as soon as possible.
Beck-a stood outside the school and scanned the entrance for the pop of white she usually saw waiting for Agnes at the door. And, of course, this was the one day she wasn’t there. Could it be because she was already up in Aunt Lydia’s office? Becka’s stomach twisted into knots at the thought.
She turned around when she felt a light squeeze on her shoulder. She’d know that touch anywhere. Agnes.
“Pray, how did your-” Agnes gasped and brought her hand to her mouth when she saw Becka’s face. “You’re hurt.”
The concern and care in Agnes’s eyes made Becka’s stomach twist, not in the sick or nervous way but in the fluttery way it often did when Agnes was around.
“Your father did this to you?” Agnes asked. “Because of what happened at the ball?”
Becka wished her father would slap her instead of what he had actually been doing to her since she was a young Pink.
In Gilead, parents frequently resorted to corporal punishment; however, it wasn’t something children should complain or openly speak about, so Becka simply said, “No, I fell last night.” Lying was also a sin, but God apparently didn’t care when it came to protecting those who have power above you, which her mother certainly did.
“I don’t believe you,” Agnes reached out to touch Becka’s face but thought better of it and pulled her hand away. “I want to know who hurt you.”
Agnes’s father was gentle with her. He’d never allow her to be hit. So she wasn’t used to it, and despite corporal punishment being a somewhat common occurrence, it was rare that the punishment left a mark somewhere obvious. Such a thing did not look good, especially as a Green looking for potential suitors. Visible proof of punishment would show them as disobedient girls, who’d turn into disobedient wives.
Out of the corner of her eye, Becka saw Daisy walk into the school. She knew she had to get to her before Agnes did. “I need to go speak with…um…Aunt Estee.”
Agnes frowned. Becca had lied to her for a second time in less than two minutes. They didn’t lie to each other, and Becka knew it hurt Agnes, but she couldn’t dwell on it. She had to get to Daisy. Surely Agnes would understand? Well, that or she’d want to see her hanging like any other gender traitor.
“I’ll see you in class,” Becka said before she made her way towards the front doors.
Much to Becka’s relief, Daisy was waiting at the door for Agnes, murmuring some prayer or another. Like a good Pearl Girl. Any good Pearl Girl would have also reported Becka’s drunken confession. Daisy reported Agnes’s witness to blasphemy, which didn’t even compare to being a gender traitor. So in Becka’s mind, there was no way her confession wasn’t getting to the Aunts, if it hadn’t already.
They couldn’t talk out in the open; Agnes, Shu, and Hulda would surely join them. “Meet me in the cafeteria,” Becka murmured as she quickly walked past Daisy. She could only hope that Daisy would comply.
The school didn’t serve breakfast, so the cafeteria was empty, aside from some Martha’s coming in and out of the kitchen, already starting the preparation for lunch service. Becka stared at the door, willing it to open and for Daisy to come in.
Seconds passed, and then minutes, and Becka lost hope that Daisy would come. Why would she? No one would want to be alone with a gender traitor. Much less a gender traitor they were about to expose.
Just as Becka was about to give up, Daisy came through the door. “Are you okay?” she asked as she approached. “Did someone attack you?”
Becka was taken aback by the genuine concern in Daisy’s eyes, but didn’t have time to dwell on it. “It doesn’t matter. I need to talk to you about last night.”
“What about it?” Daisy asked and motioned for them to sit at a nearby table.
Was she playing dumb? Perhaps she didn’t want Becka to know her plan to report their discussion at the ball. Which was fair, it would be uncomfortable to admit to someone’s face that you were about to sentence them to a life of hell.
Still, Becka knew she had to do her best to try and talk Daisy down, as long as it was not too late. “I just wanted to let you know that you may have…inferred something or things from our conversation last night, but you are incorrect.”
“You don’t know what I inferred, but you DO know that, whatever it is, is incorrect?” Daisy asked with a raise of her eyebrow and a smirk.
The smirk threw Becka off guard. Was Daisy taunting her? It seemed exceedingly cruel. “When I said that Agnes doesn’t—“ Becka couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence, not while sober.
Daisy picked up on how uncomfortable Becka was and saw the absolute fear in her eyes for the first time since they started talking. More than anything, Daisy wanted to pull Becka into an embrace and reassure her that what she was feeling wasn’t only normal, that it was beautiful.
But Daisy, too, was scared. Showing too much support in this situation would immediately label her as suspicious. Honestly, anything other than immediately turning Becka in would put herself at risk. But Daisy couldn’t do that. The thought of Becka’s lifeless, petite body hanging above her sent chills down her spine. Becka was a broken, terrified girl, and the unfairness of her situation filled Daisy with rage.
“I remember what you told me,” she said softly. “And I know what you meant by it.”
Becka’s eyes widened and filled with tears. This was the worst-case scenario. A Pearl Girl knew she was a gender traitor. “Daisy, please, they’ll send me away to be a Handmaid. All I ask is that you give me some time to try and run before you tell,” she pleaded.
Daisy reached across the table and took Becka’s hand in hers. “I’m not going to tell the aunts. I’m not going to tell anyone.”
“Why?” Beck asked. This didn’t make any sense. Was it some kind of trick? She shouldn’t have mentioned running away. Daisy was obviously lying in order to get her to stay. “I have to go.”
Where she would go, she didn’t know. She’d immediately be caught by the guards if she tried to leave school grounds, and once Daisy tells, the Aunts would have her in the custody of the eyes within minutes. She was trapped.
“Becka, stop,” Daisy said when Becka began to get up from the table. “Don’t you remember what I told you last night?”
Becka sat back down. “Barely. You made up something about the aunts saying God has a plan for us.”
“Okay. Well, yeah, I did do that,” Daisy replied. “But I also told you that it’s okay to feel this way; the way you feel about Agnes.”
“It’s not,” Becka choked out, a lone tear falling down her cheek. “It’s the worst thing you could ever be.”
Daisy shook her head. “No, no. There is nothing wrong with being gay.”
“Gay?” Why would Daisy say that? What about this conversation made her bring up happiness of all things?
“Or bi, you know, however you identify.”
Becka’s confusion only grew; now Daisy was just going to leave? “Goodbye?”
That’s when Daisy realized. This poor girl had only known her identity as a gender traitor. “Back home, and in most places, it’s what…gender traitors are called.” Just saying the term out loud felt wrong.
“Gay? I would be called gay? That’s just another word for happy.”
A small smile crossed Daisy’s lips. “Exactly. Where I’m from, it’s celebrated. For example, every year in Toronto, there is a massive parade. It’s vibrant and full of joy. Gay couples get married and have children. Sure, there are bigots who try to take that away from them, but it’s not like it is here.”
Daisy’s smile fell. Becka would never experience any of that. Her best case scenario was hiding her sexuality for the rest of her life, marrying an abusive creep, and popping out babies. Daisy couldn’t stomach thinking about the worst case scenario again.
“My brain can’t even begin to picture that sort of thing.” More tears began to run down her cheeks. “It almost hurts worse knowing that not too far away there are people like me living happily, and I will never get to experience that.”
Daisy stood up and motioned for Becka to as well. When Becka complied, Daisy pulled her into a tight hug. This wasn’t just about getting back at Gilead for what they had done to her parents anymore. She was going to get these girls out, no matter what it took.