Three Converts

Part 16

In the morning Sophie was asleep at the foot of the pillory. I hadn't slept for the incredible discomfort. I longed to stretch my neck, to look at the sky above me, to arch my back. At the crack of dawn, Herb, who was always the first one awake in the village, brought me some bread. I was embarrassed to have him feed it to me, but so grateful, I could only weep my appreciation. He didn't say a word, just nodded, before walking away. For all my days I would never forget that act of kindness. When nobody but my family would talk or look at me, Herb fed me.

Sophie woke as he walked away and I saw the recognition of his actions in her eyes. She smiled. "He was a good convert, Luce."

Converts. My figurative pillory. I didn't know how I could go back to trying to convert a person to come here. What if they made a mistake someday and wound up in the very position I was in? How could I live with myself? I'd bring them food, I vowed. If I ever saw anybody in this situation, no matter how horrible their offense, I would sleep by their feet as Sophie had and bring them food as Herb had.

"I'm going to go home to check on Mother and Father. They were not in good shape when I left last night. Father put his fist through the wall and Mother was hysterical."

My body ached more than I ever would have imagined it could, but it was a dull ache compared to the splitting pain in my chest when I thought of my parents. I had done this to them.

But I hadn't, really. The council had. This point rose from the earth into my brain. It rained down on me from the heavens. I didn't do anything wrong. The council was wrong. This was a broken system that would put me in here for attempting to do the very thing they forced me to do. Forcing me to make three conversions was wrong, making me wear this robe was wrong. It was wrong that I couldn't try one of Annie's donuts, or have a good luck charm. It was wrong that I couldn't be friends with somebody who didn't believe in Diety, or who didn't want to live this lifestyle. It was wrong to keep me from Griffin.

They were wrong about what Diety wanted.

The Diety I knew, that I prayed to every day of my life was loving, forgiving, merciful. He wanted me to love all people, befriend all people, whether or not they wanted to be a member of this commune.

I felt guilty for allowing these thoughts. It briefly occurred to me that maybe I belonged in this forsaken contraption, unable to move or stretch, humiliated and scorned. But immediately I knew my guilt was wrong too. For being in this awkward physical condition, I suddenly felt I was standing tall.

By the time Mother and Father came back with Sophie, the trajectory of my life had changed. It seemed fast, but later, when I would reflect on my decisions, they were a lifetime in the making. Still, it must have seemed to my family that this particular event changed me from obedient to wayward. It was the only fraction of me that resisted the decision I came to that night in the wooden stock.

Mother ran to the pillory and held my freezing hand. She breathed onto one, then the other, and I began to feel my fingertips again. Sophie said she'd been crying, but all I saw in her was anger. Father paced angrily back and forth, every now and then his anger dropped to the ground and he'd stop to stroke my head. He accidentally moved my hair into my eyes and I tried to blow it out. Sophie tucked it behind my ear. Our community, our neighbors and friends, were awake now and beginning their chores. Nobody made eye contact as far as I could tell. I felt especially self-conscious about my back half. I felt a presence, but couldn't turn to look. The weight of my robe was a comfort for the first time ever. I knew I was adequately covered, but still felt uncomfortably vulnerable. "Soph," I whispered when Mother went to Father to try to slow his pacing. "Soph, is someone behind me?" My sister peeked around the pillory and squinted her eyes.

Her voice was ice. "Can I help you with something, Franklin?" she coated his name with daggers and threw it at him. I shivered. The idea of Franklin sneaking up on me and watching me in my embarrassing punishment made me ill. I hoped I wouldn't throw up here. That would be one way in which this situation could get even worse. Another was Franklin's presence.

At the sound of Franklin's name, my Fatherpuffed up. I watched my Mother grip his arm tighter, but he either didn'tnotice or didn't care. Franklin came into sight and my Father marched up to himwordlessly. Franklin's stupid face remained serene. He knew he was untouchablebecause of who his Father was. I willed my Father not to get himself introuble. It was Mother I should have been focusing on.