Reasons for Silence

Here Say

Chapter Six ~ Serefina

            That night was not an isolated incident. It wouldn’t have mattered if it were, but it wasn’t, it became a pattern. Every other night.

            There wasn’t much for me to do during the day, I had no specific tasks to accomplish because Kobe thought it better that I simply follow him around.

            Whenever he would have company over, which was quite often because of his desire to get married, he insisted that I say in the sitting room with them. Not that I was allowed or welcomed into any conversations – not that I would have talked had I been – no, Kobe motioned for me to stand near a wall one day and that was where I stood each time he had company.

            It was completely useless for me to be there, I did nothing, provided no services, I just stood and breathed. There was nothing that I could learn from the women that he was entertaining that he couldn’t observe himself.

            I was never away from him long enough to do anything productive. Instead, I tried to help out the other servers and slaves when I could; setting tables, occasionally cooking, and pitching in with the laundry. These pursuits never lasted long because Kobe would always pull me away, claiming that he had something better or more important for me to do – which was hardly ever true.

            The servers and slaves began giving me sideways glances, they started to whisper. I heard all sorts of things – none of them flattering.

            “She seemed so innocent when she came here,” a woman a few years older than me said one day, “she never speaks, you know - no telling how he broke her.”

            “That little slut thinks that she can do whatever she wants just because she’s the favorite,” said a woman my age to an older woman. The older woman chuckled and said that if she had my youth and beauty she would take advantage of it too.

            They called me many names and picked on the fact that I choose my words carefully.

            I walked into the dining hall to help set the plates when I overheard a serving man and woman whispering to each other.

            “Why does she even bother? This obviously isn’t where her work is conducted,” the man said with a tray of silverware in his arms.

            “I wonder, sometimes, if I would be happier if I didn’t have to do any real work. It must be nice to be able to be lazy all day long,” the woman said in reply.

            “Oh I don’t think that her line of work is for you,” the man said with a chuckle, “she was obviously born with a gift,”

            “I bet she loves it,” the woman said.

            They snickered.

            “Besides,” the man continued, “you have a mind, you’re smart and you could stand up for yourself. Kimana – which isn’t even her real name, he named her – has absolutely no will and was meant to take those kinds of orders. She is practically the definition of a whore.”

            By that time my face had contorted and my eyes had welled with tears.

            I could feel their eyes turn to me and my face heated up. Self-consciously I set the next plate down on the table. I closed my eyes and I felt a tear slip out and run down my cheek. I took a deep breath and walked to the head of the table, where the two were standing, and I handed the remaining plates to the woman. I stared intensely into her eyes.  She took them, her eyes were cold and unforgiving – she really did blame me for not doing the same work that she did.