Chapter 10
I remember the first time I lost everything I had in my possession. I don’t even recall where my scant possessions came from, but one day they were gone. I simply left them in my room that day. That was all I needed to do to set the lesson in motion. I was summoned to have breakfast with the Instructor that morning. When I returned, I found that the room I had been occupying at that time had disappeared; it was just gone. I searched for it in vain. Was the lesson, “Don’t take things for granted?” No, the lesson was, “Don’t get attached.”
The following morning, as I finish up my breakfast, the part I hadn’t set aside for Mark, I decide to take the initiative of cleaning up after myself. But what then? Should I ask Nan whether she has anything for me to do today? I decide against that. I can’t leave until I am dismissed, but asking her whether I can go or lingering around looking as though I want to be released right away could be seen by her as vindictive and could set her off. I decide to just clear my place then act as though I am in no hurry to leave. I hope she won’t see through me and realize how much I want to go.
Strangely enough, I soon catch on that Nan doesn’t appear all that interested in me today. I should just be relieved, but, as with most of the unexpected changes around here, I find myself unnerved by it. Perhaps, it is merely another mind game she is playing, but I am convinced it is something more. If I am right, what could have changed between yesterday and today?
As I take my plates to the sink, I no longer feel hesitant to ask what plans Nan has in store for me today. My curiosity has simply grown too strong for me not to ask.
“So, is there anything you need me to do today?” I ask her.
“No,” she states coolly. She doesn’t show much interest in the question.
I am perplexed. I can see her steal a glance at me from the side. I imagine it gives her pleasure to confuse me. I wish I had done a better job hiding my emotions.
“Then, can I go back to my room?”
“For now.” she replies cryptically. “But you may be needed later … so don’t wander off.”
My eyebrows furrow. I am so sick of these games. And yet, I say nothing more. I have been given permission to leave, which is what I wanted. Unfortunately, that permission has strings attached. If someone comes looking for me and finds I’m not in my room, I’ll get into trouble. I’ll have questions to answer. Yet, it can’t be helped. I have no intention of just staying in my room.
I don’t linger in my room for long, but I do go in. I figure that I’ll stay long enough to bore anyone who may be watching me. I, of course, don’t see anyone. But Nan could come around just to make sure I am there. At first, I actually wish she would come. Then, I can get her visit over with and continue on my way. But then, the thought occurs to me that Nan could come around with a list of tasks for me to do, which could take up the rest of my day. Perhaps, it is better to make myself scarce. Yes, I would be punished, but at least I would have the day first. Plus, Nan could come back and catch me gone later anyway. Yes, it is best to just go — so long as I don’t get caught leaving, of course.
I peer out into the hallway; I had only opened the door a crack. I figure if Nan catches me looking out, she won’t be able to prove I am up to something. I could have an innocent reason for looking out. But there is nothing and no one that I can see. Then again, someone could be hiding around a corner or in a room.
“I’m getting paranoid.” I mutter to myself.
Yeah right, paranoid. Is that even possible in a place such as this? There is plenty to be wary about, I think. But thinking too much isn’t going to get me anywhere. I want to get to Mark, so we can coordinate our day. He could still be wandering around the complex, or he could be asleep for all I know. I just hope he hasn’t disappeared … Once again, I have been fretting over the possibility I won’t see him again and will never know what happened to him. That fear has been causing me to toss and turn at night.
But at this point, I am just happy to be going to him. No longer will I have to just sit around worrying. In the very least, I am determined to find him or at least to find out what happened to him. As I near the door to the room he is hiding in, I hesitate. What if someone is watching me after all? Eventually, I work up the nerve to head back into the room I left Mark in. Once again, I take him some food, and he appears to be grateful.
“Let’s go look for your sister … after you’re done eating.” I suggest.
Mark looks at me quizzically for a moment right after he takes a bite out of his sandwich.
“I really hadn’t expected you to be here this morning …” he begins.
“Yeah. Nan let me go. But she made it clear she intends to keep tabs on me … or at least try to. I’m not sure what she’s up to. Maybe she’s just messing with my head.”
“Well … the thing of it is I just finished searching for the day.” he says. “Besides, I almost ran into someone after the sun came up. I think it’s less risky at night.”
“Oh, yeah …” I acknowledge.
I am a bit disappointed, even though I can see his point.
“You probably need some sleep.” I confirm. “I guess I could come back after dinner.”
“Yeah, that would probably be best.” he agrees.
I half-smile. I had really been looking forward to helping out. I’m actually not sure how I will spend the time between now and when I can come back. Waiting always seems to make time slow down. But it makes no sense for me to linger around here. I know I wouldn’t have appreciated it if Mark had kept me up before when I had needed sleep. Instead, he had eventually let me go, so that I could rest. I decide to do the same for him. Without another awkward word, I leave.
Not surprisingly, I am a bit wired when I return to my room. When I had started the day, I had assumed I would be working with Nan most of the time. Then, the remainder would belong to Mark. But since that didn’t happen, I decide it is best to catch up on my reading. Though, I know that there is a chance that my nervous energy may make anything that requires concentration difficult. How will I be able to concentrate with so much going on?
I end up spending a lot more time staring out the large bay window in my room than I do looking at the pages of any book. It is a bright morning — so bright that the light stings my eyes a bit. Still, I can see large, puffy snowflakes descending past the window in front of me.
From the window you can also see the exterior wall of an adjacent hallway. I suspect that I must have gotten to that section through the ventilation shaft. I look at the light shining from the little attached section. Inside the hallway, activity seems to be taking place. That is strange, I think.
Far below my window lies the ground. The four walls of the surrounding buildings create a sort of enclosure down below. It is a pretty large enclosure actually. I can’t see beyond the walls of the four corners that jut out from the ground like pillars.
The vastness of the complex has always captured my interest — and it still does to some degree. But at this moment, my attention has become partially split. I will continue to explore inside the confines of the complex, but I will also seek out what is beyond its walls. After all, Mark has been out there recently. Why shouldn’t I go out there, too? Someday?
I wonder what is beyond my view — on the other side of the walls. Maybe there are large fields or even mountains. Mark mentioned there were all sorts of landscapes out there. The windows in the kitchen are all stained glass and, therefore, opaque. So, I really don’t have a clear view of the outside world. There must be a way out of here, I think. But how? All I know is I am now determined to find a way.
It isn’t long after these reflections that Nan comes around. I assume it’s to fetch me for lunch. Maybe it is my imagination, but she seems disappointed when she finds me there waiting for her.
She just stares at me for a moment, seemingly unable to speak. Finally, I can see her force the words to come out of her mouth.
“It’s good you’re here.” she admits. “The Instructor is back.”
“Back?” I repeat. The word hits my mind hard with meaning, but at that moment I don’t know why.
“Yes.” she responds.
She sounds annoyed. She seems to hate it when I question her about anything that has to do with the Instructor. It is as though she thinks I am being impudent.
“The Instructor sent me to look for you. You have been requested. You are to prepare for dinner with him.”
My eyebrows furrow. I am still confused and try to wrap my mind around my reasoning for this confusion. Nan, however, takes offense at my bewilderment and seems to view it as another act of disrespect.
“What?!” she calls out angrily.
“Nothing.” I say, shaking my head. I decide that I will think on it later. I will probably think better outside of her presence anyway.
“I’ll be ready.” I assure her.
“See that you are.” she insists. “Oh, and I’ll bring your lunch tray to you today. I don’t need you around the kitchen; I have enough to do.”
As though Nan has to babysit me! Still, at least a tray will make setting aside food for Mark easier. This is especially important since I dare not even try to sneak food past the Instructor. Chances are he would notice, and that would be disastrous.
I really want Nan to leave, so that I can process the information she has given me. But she seems to be in no hurry to go. Instead, she seems to be poking around in my room as though she is looking for something. While I want to believe she is just trying to annoy me — which she is — I grow concerned she suspects I am up to something. I rack my brain trying to remember whether there is anything incriminating that she could find. Fortunately, I had taken all of Mark’s things and any food stuffs of his to him after he had left.
Nan frowns after awhile, and I realize she hasn’t found what she is looking for.
“Well, I’ll go get your food.” she states awkwardly.
Nan finally leaves. I turn and look back out the window. I have to regain control over my nerves. I can’t afford to draw any more of Nan’s suspicions onto me. If I let her know that she is able to unnerve me … I have to wait to figure out what the Instructor is up to until later; this isn’t the time for figuring that out. Nan will be right back, and, given the mood she is in, it is doubtless that she will be analyzing me when she returns. It is hard to fathom what she is up to. Why has she taken so intensely to these mind games? Is the Instructor’s preoccupation spreading to those around him?
Nan returns shortly thereafter. Fortunately, this time she doesn’t plan on staying long. Maybe it finally occurs to her just how difficult a task she has in front of her in preparing a dinner for the Instructor. While Nan is surely not intimidated by me, she is obviously intimidated by him. And the Instructor is always very particular about his dinners.
“See that you’re ready promptly at 5:00 pm. I’ll be here to fetch you then. I don’t want any excuses.” Nan informs me.
I nod. Apparently, that isn’t a convincing enough of a response, for she gives me a nasty look as she leaves. One thing sticks in my mind as Nan leaves. It was the comment that she made implying that the Instructor hasn’t been around recently. It is hard to imagine where he could have gone, or even why the realization that he had departed has struck me as being so strange. What difference does it make? But then, it occurs to me that I had assumed the Instructor had been here for it all — here for the incident in the air vent; here for the episode with Mark.
Had he really not been here? I begin to pace. Had those things happened without his knowledge and direction?
“How can this be? With everything that’s been going on? How can it be true? And where has he been?”
I stop walking. There is still no good reason to assume that the Instructor hasn’t been here for a while. He may have been back here for at least these last few days. Then I ask myself, would it be better if the Instructor was involved in what happened or not? It has been troubling me to think he’d set up the vent incident that nearly cost me my foot. And if he isn’t aware of Mark, that would be best for Mark, too. But what does it mean if he is unaware of the vent and what happened to Mark? Yet, as I said before, I still have no reason to doubt the Instructor had been behind what happened to Mark. He’s been behind every scenario I have ever known … even if he just took advantage of Mark having stumbled upon this place.
And yet, what would it say about him if he did that to Mark? And what about my foot? And how do I feel about not having the answers to these questions given that I am scheduled to meet with him this evening? It is hard enough usually; it will be worse now. I sigh.
Nan returns briefly with the food. I look over at the tray of food. I wonder how long Mark is going to be asleep … probably awhile. He doesn’t think he will have much to do until nightfall, after all. Though I would have really loved having someone to talk to, it wouldn’t be right to wake him up just to entertain me. I decide the best thing to do is to wait to take him his food until after the dinner. I figure I will be less likely to be watched or to be visited by Nan after the dinner is done than before.
Still, there is going to be a period of anxiety to look forward to in the interim. I decide to go ahead and eat a little something. I had considered giving all of my lunch to Mark, but I decide against it now. Going to the Instructor’s dinner on an empty stomach wouldn’t be a wise move. I need to be as calm and composed as possible. Plus, eating more than I usually do may draw suspicion onto me.
I go to the tray and begin to eat slowly. At first, I don’t have much of an appetite, but I begin to relax as time passes. I realize pretty quickly that I will have to stop eating before I am full if I am going to be able to leave any substantial amount for Mark. Then, the thought occurs to me: where will I hide the food while I am gone from the room for dinner? I can’t just leave it out and risk it being thrown away. But if I hide it, and Nan searches the room while I am gone and discovers the food — well, that wouldn’t be good either. I can’t imagine what she would think if she discovers I am hoarding food. Certainly, that would be the last time I will be able to squirrel away food for Mark. Nan would have me on an even tighter leash. She may even cut down on the amount of food that she gives me as punishment.
Then again, maybe I am just looking for an excuse to go see Mark again — an excuse to wake him up. After all, there is a risk to my going back there this time of day, I remind myself. No, I will stick to my original plan. I will simply wrap up the extra food and stash it in the air vent. Then, I will hope for the best. It’s not as though the thought that I was saving the food for someone else would be first thing that would cross Nan’s mind if she does find the food.
After I secure the food in the vent, I still find myself with time on my hands — too much time. I don’t want the time. I know it will merely serve to rattle my nerves. Ironically, I even think about helping out Nan in the kitchen just so that I will have something to do! But it turns out I’m not quite that desperate.
I’ve been doing a lot of waiting around lately, I conclude. With the Instructor, it is always about his timing; there is no getting around that. I do a lot of pacing. But eventually, thankfully, time does pass, and it is time to get ready for dinner.
As I mentioned before, not all of my meetings with the Instructor are dinners. But when the meetings are dinners, there is a protocol to follow. For one, dinners with the Instructor are always formal. I don’t wear a ball gown — but it is a fancy dress, nonetheless. My straight hair is to be meticulously set. I am still too young for makeup. My shoes have to be polished; my tights can have no snags. I first take a bath. I pay careful attention to my nails to make sure no dirt has clung to them. I retrieve the blue satin dress with light green sashes. It has been hanging in a bag in my closet. It had been pressed before it was hung, but I decide to press it again before I put it on. Nan will be inspecting my appearance before I can leave the room, after all.
I find I am ready before the appointed time. That is a good thing. I feel a sense of relief when I tie the ribbon in my hair, perfectly set. It took me a long time to learn how to tie a ribbon exactly even and with no visible creases, but I had learned. Now I look like some porcelain doll freshly removed from a china cabinet. All of this attention to detail certainly sets the mood for the evening. It allows me to feel the gravity and the oddity of these occasions with the Instructor. It is as though I am going into some battle, and this is my uniform — as peculiar a uniform as it is. As I look into the mirror, I do wonder how many years I will be forced to don an outfit as this one. After all, by all accounts I will soon be a teenager. At that point, the getup will go from mildly strange to downright bizarre. It seems to me that the costumes have long since lost their point … whatever that point had been.
As far as the dresses go, I have a seamstress who comes to the complex to fit me for them. She designs every one. Though, I suspect that the Instructor gives her quite a bit of input into each design. Given his temperament, there’s no way he doesn’t. He is always complimentary of the designs when he sees them as well. Yet, it seems as though he is really fishing for a compliment for himself.
Given that my relationship with Nan deteriorated as I grew older, I do wonder whether the Instructor will turn on me, too, once I grow to be an adult. On an emotional level, I really don’t care. Still, the thought does scare me; it scares me a lot.
That’s why I didn’t say anything negative the last time I was fitted for my doll-clothes wardrobe; I figured it was a good thing he still viewed me as a child. Plus, at least I don’t have to dress up like this most of the time. My regular clothes are actually quite normal.
Still, trying to get through these oddball meetings with the Instructor is stressful no matter how infrequently they occur. The dinners are very disruptive to me emotionally and usually they portend that another scenario is about to begin. I really don’t want that. I have my hands full trying to help Mark find his sister. And it is hard enough having to deal with Nan and whatever issues she is having. Not to mention what had happened with my foot …
But it is getting close to that time. I will soon find out exactly what the Instructor wants from me — or at least learn enough to be able to make a new strategy as to how to work around him.
Nan comes to see me about thirty minutes before the dinner is set to begin. A peculiar feature of the Instructor’s is that he not only doesn’t like people to be late, he seems to hate them being early just as much. I figure it must be a control thing. But just as with most things involving the Instructor, I never know for sure. I don’t feel comfortable enough to ask him; there is no way I could imagine doing that.
It turns out that Nan came earlier than was needed because she didn’t trust me to assemble my outfit correctly — but I had done it correctly. So, we are left with time on our hands. Nan opts to wait in my room until it gets to be the time when we need to depart for the dining hall. She sits on one of my sofas, though she is far from relaxed. Instead, she is constantly checking her watch. This annoys me to no end. I resist rolling my eyes, though … barely.
I am under enough stress. Nan is making it worse. Not that she cares. Actually, it probably gives her pleasure to cause me grief. I sigh. Eventually, this will be over, I remind myself.
“It’s about that time.” Nan suddenly announces with a sudden high pitch to her voice. She glances up from her watch to look at me. “I hope sitting down hasn’t wrinkled your dress!”
This coming from the woman who insisted I get ready a half hour early! Had she really expected me to just stand around that long? Apparently so.
Nan, of course, checks me over again. She doesn’t seem as relieved as I thought she would as she announces that I am wrinkle free. Perhaps, she was hoping that I’d get into some kind of trouble.
“Time to go!” she informs me hurriedly.
I hesitate.
“Well …” the woman begins.
“What?”
“I told you the Instructor is waiting for you.”
I nod.
We walk out of the room. Since she hasn’t told me any differently, I head for the last place I’d seen the Instructor — down the familiar route to the Instructor’s dining room.
Nan walks ahead of me, setting a pretty brisk pace. Surely, she hadn’t caused us to leave later than we should have, I think. Is she forgetting how much the Instructor hates it when we are early? I am tempted to remind her, but I really have no idea what time it is. I hadn’t checked the clock before we left, and I’m not allowed to wear a watch with this ensemble even if I had one.
Even though we are walking at a pretty fast clip, I had been in more of a hurry the last time I was here. I, therefore, do have more time to consider the gloomy environment we are heading into. The Instructor has a solid appreciation for the dramatic. The room he has allotted for our meetings is surrounded by some of the most unwelcoming and downright creepiest corridors I have ever seen. They are all dimly lit by lanterns strung up along the walls. The ceilings are so tall, though, that the light evaporates before it reaches the rafters. All of the wood is dark and thick. You’d think that after all of these years I would have gotten used to this ambience, but I never have … just as I have never really gotten used to being summoned to see the Instructor.
Eventually, we get to the massive main door, which is the only thing located at the end of this particular, equally massive hall.
“Wait here.” Nan informs me, some trepidation in her voice.
She always says that. Nan goes to the door and raps on it with the iron knocker. It is the only interior door knocker I have ever seen. It strikes me as funny all of a sudden — all of this pretense. I have to hold myself back from laughing. Perhaps Nan is right about one thing; perhaps I am getting more insolent as I get older.
I know I have to quell my newfound attitude. It is bad enough when Nan sees it. With the Instructor, there would be payback — even though his dramatic displays are downright absurd.
Suddenly, I hear a muffled voice emanating from the other side of the door, though I can’t make out what it said. Nan looks back at me momentarily. Then, she carefully pulls the door open. Finally, she slips inside. I just stand there waiting. Chances are my waiting there is part of the plan. It is meant to unnerve me, but I feel numb instead. I do wonder how long I’ll be kept standing there. Really, I feel I have better things to do. I am shocked that that thought had entered my mind. It is a dangerous thought to have. I have to get my mind straightened out before I go in there. I just know the Instructor will be able to tell that my mood is bad; there is no way I can adequately hide it. If Nan, who seems mostly oblivious to my feelings, can tell then surely the Instructor, who is more astute, can figure it out.
“What is wrong with me?” I mutter. Why can’t I play the game anymore?
And then, it dawns on me that I am angry. I am angry about what happened to Mark — angry over what almost happened to me. I am even angry about the way Nan has been treating me. Why should I have to put up with any of this? Plus, I am sick of being afraid and of being taken off-balance all the time.
“Aronade.” Nan has emerged from the room.
The use of my name draws my attention right away. Hearing her use it in a pleasant tone of voice is such a rarity these days that it penetrates the fog of my mind. Nan sounds a bit sheepish. Had the Instructor given her a lecture after all? Or, maybe he is merely in one of his moods, and I am about to get the brunt of it as well.
It is nice to see Nan humbler — as I used to remember her being. But I know it won’t last; it never does.
“He’s ready for you now.” she informs me.
I nod and proceed towards the door. I cast one more look at Nan before I enter. She looks down towards the floor. There was a time when I would have felt sorry for her; now, I just feel sorry for myself … and for Mark.
The room inside is surprisingly vast. There are lots of candles on candlesticks of various shapes and sizes, but they do a surprisingly inadequate job of lighting the space. The Instructor had recently taken to gothic architecture with large, open spaces and the before-mentioned dramatic flair. It is probably no wonder why he decides to reuse this room for meetings. But even I have to admit, the detailing of the woodwork is exquisite.
At the end of the very long, rectangular table is an ornate, high-back chair. Within it sits the pale, seemingly frail figure of the Instructor. His face is thin, his hair white. He sits with his arms on the chair’s armrests, his hands seemingly poised to move at a moment’s notice. His eyes are surprisingly dark — as are his angled eyebrows that arch over them. He wears a dark red robe today. He always seems to dress as though he was a king.
I wait, as I usually do, for permission to sit. Only the first time had I made the mistake of sitting before I was asked to. Nothing horrible happened; I had just been yelled at.
“Aronade, you may sit.”
I take the chair facing him at the other end of the table — the one closest to where I am standing. I am careful not to look upon him too directly … it tends to unnerve him.
“So, how is your day?” he asks me.
His eyes have that same penetrating look they always do.
“Fine.” I respond as blankly as possible. I always try to betray as little emotion as I can … he likes it that way.
“Nan has prepared us a solid meal.” he tells me. “We are very fortunate to have her.” he admonishes.
I nod.
“So what have you been up to since I’ve been gone?” he questions me.
“I don’t know. How long have you been gone?” I hear myself asking.
I flush immediately. I can’t believe that I actually asked that! Of him! He just stares at me for a moment.
“You didn’t realize I was gone?” he concludes with a stilted laugh. “Don’t I remember telling you that I was leaving? Perhaps you are meaning that you were solely not aware of the length of my trip?”
He wasn’t angry?
“Hmm … I would have thought that Nan would have informed you.” he ponders.
The Instructor reaches for a pitcher and begins to pour out a drink for himself. I realize he has no intention of answering my question, nor does it seem as though he is going to push for me to answer the one he had asked me. The fact is he really doesn’t care. If he knew what I have been up to recently, he would care, I think. But he has probably assumed I have been doing what I usually do. It is ironic really that one of his lessons had been never to assume anything.
Still, I am grateful that he seems to consider my response to his question logical rather than rude and evasive — which it really was. Then again, he may end up being offended later. It isn’t unusual for him to work himself into a fury over time.
“I did have to clean the kitchen.” I complain to him.
“Uh-huh.” he responds, shooting me a disapproving look.
He hates it when I complain, but I figure that it will probably distract him from stewing over my earlier snarky response.
“Calm down, Puppet.” he consoles. “Such is life.”
I look on him with a flash of disgust. He always calls me “Puppet” eventually. I deplore it; he is well aware. But now that he has gotten his dig in, hopefully that will be the end of it … at least maybe for a while. I know there will always be another time.
Still, I find myself wishing that he would answer my question. Though I dare not challenge him further, I am dying to know where he has been and for how long. Would Nan tell me? Could I trick it out of her? Probably not. She is suspicious enough of me already.
I do suddenly wonder about the Instructor’s comment. He had sounded surprised that Nan hadn’t told me he was gone. Had he been surprised, really? Or, was he merely trying to confirm whether Nan had told me his business or not? It could very easily be that he hadn’t wanted me to know and was, therefore, pleased to confirm that Nan hadn’t disclosed it.
My relationship with Nan has certainly soured. Surely the Instructor must be aware of that — if he weren’t behind it altogether. I wouldn’t put it past him. He certainly hadn’t taken my side about the kitchen cleaning. Is Nan afraid of him truly? Is that why she was so mean to me now? Or, am I just grasping at some sort of excuse to explain away her change of heart — one that wouldn’t hurt so much on a personal level?
“You seem deep in thought, Puppet.”
I look up at him.
“I’m just trying to sort some stuff out.” I say.
The Instructor presses the tips of his fingers together into a triangle.
“Pray tell.” he pursues with interest.
“The timing of things …” I hesitate. Do I really want to ask him about the air duct? It could disclose my new hiding place. It could also point to the fact that I’d been in the old corridor. But what if he already knows? What if he is just testing me? If so, does he want me to be honest or cunning?
“My light went out the other day.” I tell him, remembering the separate incident. Though, the two incidents are linked in my mind. For one, it gave someone an excuse to enter my room to change the bulb. The light going out also raised in my mind the possibility that there is a glitch in the electrical system — one that could explain away what had happened in the air vent. But there is another reason: I want to try to see whether he shows any particular interest in what has been going on with me lately. In other words, does he know about Mark? But when I raise my eyes again, the Instructor is as inscrutable as ever.
I am now glad I hadn’t brought up the vent directly. No, it is much safer to just discuss the light. Who knows, maybe he will be impressed by how inquisitive and observant I have become! That, or he’ll just figure he has finally driven me insane.
“A light?” he repeats.
He leans back in his chair. He suddenly seems less interested than he had been before.
“Yes, it didn’t appear to be burnt out, but it went out in my room.”
He yawns.
“I thought maybe the electricity to my room had been turned off … for some reason.”
Now he looks downright bored.
“And why does this matter to me?” he asks with some irritation.
“I thought maybe you were behind it.”
He laughs at me.
“And why would I bother with that, Puppet?” he mocks. “Don’t you think I have better things to do?”
“I thought maybe it was a test.”
He is unimpressed by that thought — I can tell.
“And if it was, would I admit it?” he points out.
I am beginning to feel stupid, which is probably his intent. Just then, Nan enters the room with a tray of food.
“Ah, Nan. You’ve saved us from a tedious conversation!” he scoffs.
I flush with embarrassment. Usually the Instructor isn’t this hostile towards me. What could be setting him off to this extent? I look over at Nan, figuring she must be enjoying the show. But instead, she appears peaked to me and seems to be holding her food tray overly tightly. I guess she noticed the Instructor is in a particularly bad mood as well. Part of me, I admit, is tempted to seek out a way to get back on his … well, “good side” isn’t the right phrase. I was never on his good side. But even with that, I realize it just wouldn’t do. Begging for his approval would just make things worse with him. He would lose all respect for me, and then the abuse would never stop.
No, I can’t do that. I have to remain indifferent. He may have the power, but I won’t give him the satisfaction. And I don’t feel guilty about it either. He is the one being unreasonable, after all.
So, I decide to look off into space and appear bored. I will eat my food, wait to be excused, and then leave. Let him come up with something to talk about — something less “tedious.” I wish him well on that one, I think. In the mood I am in at this point, not much he could say could impress me. Why am I even here anyway? Why had he summoned me? To tear me down? To bore me to death? Contrary to his opinion, I do have somewhere else I’d rather be.
It is working. I am working myself into anger, which I know will be my best defense against his relentless criticism.
“What now, the silent treatment?” he chides. “My! How predictable, Puppet.”
I cast him a scornful look. Now he has done it! Now I am fuming mad! I am so mad at this moment that it casts away any fear that I have of him. On some level, I know it isn’t wise to react to his obvious goading, but as Nan exits the room I realize that I’ve had enough. If he wants anger, I’ll show him anger!
“What am I even doing here?!” I demand, my face flushed. “Do you think I enjoy these evenings?! I DO NOT!!”
On the surface, it doesn’t seem as though it is too controversial a statement, but with this audience it most certainly is.
The Instructor just stares at me in silence, but his eyes do seem particularly dark all of a sudden.
“I’m sick of you picking at me. I can’t read your mind. I’m just trying to get through this as pleasantly as possible, but you seem determined to harass me.” I continue.
I am about to begin another round of words — probably just to distract myself from the ensuing silence. But then, he waves my thoughts off with his hand.
“You may leave.” he tells me.
When I’m about to utter something more — I don’t know what exactly — he adds, “NOW!!”
I slowly stand then head straight for the door. Fortunately, it is unbolted.
Copyright © Jennifer Alice Chandler 2020
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