Amanita: Poison Shot

Chapter 48: Confessions in the Cellar

A few hours after Eros' phone call, my father came home from work – and my heart was threatening to break my ribs inside-out.

What would I tell him? That I was willingly becoming a collaborator, after what had happened to Daniel? He'd be fuming at me. I didn't want to add more fuel to the fire, but I had to tell him sooner or later.

I knew he wanted a better job for me than the one I had as a cleaning maid in Replica Ltd., and becoming a collaborator had its perks, but still, I'd become an outcast – and it would be worse than being one of the damned. Damned meant being dirt-poor, whereas collaborator meant gladly being a clone arse-licker.

I heard him coming home, opening the front door and smiling at me when he saw me, as usual.

"Dad," I called his attention as he was closing the door, "I need to tell you something."

"What a tone and gruesome face," he replied with a slight frown as he came to me and entered the living room. "Is something wrong?"

"It depends on how you look at it," I said calmly and seriously as I came closer to him. "Listen, I don't want to beat about the bushes, so here it goes: I've been offered a new job. Instead of being a cleaning maid in either Replica Ltd. or at the Nevermores', I'd become a shop assistant in Oyster."

Everybody knew Oyster. I didn't need to tell him what it was. It was one of those trademarks that change the course of history, and an extremely popular brand even though few people could afford its products.

The look on my father's face was priceless – in a bad sense. He had frozen, staring at me as if he had just seen an alien or a ghost. He was tense all over. So was I, also waiting for a telling-off that would eventually never come.

"Wow, that's..." he replied with hesitation then.

"It's a nice opportunity for me, dad," I added softly. "Mrs Nevermore is the kindest clone I've ever met. I'd be starting next week, on Monday. Mrs Nevermore's son, Eros, will be her successor, and he's kindly taken care of it all. He's already notified Replica Ltd. about this change. I know that becoming a collaborator isn't what you had in mind for me, but..."

"But you'd be much better off," he replied also softly, as he sat down on the couch. He was finding it hard to take it all in, though. "Besides, I've only got a few months left. You need to make your own choices. I'm glad you've taken that dream out of your mind, and that you've chosen a career that's gonna keep you well-fed and healthy. I'm proud of you."

The look in his eyes wasn't pride, though. I knew that kind of look: it was dejection. And his voice was soft but weak. He knew what would become of me in social terms, and it was obvious that he didn't like it.

My neighbours from the Dam would look down on me, spit on me, call me names, start nasty rumours about me, throw rotten tomatoes at my windows, make me pay twice as much as any other customer for absolutely anything I'd like to buy from then on, you name it. Maybe they would even suggest that my cunt had become some random clone's private property, to phrase it nicely. I had heard such nasty comments more than once about collaborator women. That ill-treatment was the reason why collaborators kept to themselves most of the time, living as close to the clones downtown as possible. I might be forced to abandon my home, and go and live with the other collaborators, even.

"You don't need to lie to me, dad," I whispered with dread. "I know you don't feel proud of me. I don't want you to be. I shall be fine if you say you don't like this job. I understand. But I can't be picky about this. I won't get another job offer like this, or half as good as this."