Page 24 of Regressive

“It was good to see you, Imogene,” he says, watching me walk away. “Be safe.”

The last part is a warning, one that never would have been a problem—not until the day I was Ordered to marry Rex. I exit the housing area, headed back to the office, already trying to figure out the next step in fulfilling my mate’s demands, no matter how risky they are.

When I returnedto the office an envelope was leaning against my pencil cup. Inside are directions about the next women’s meeting. Again, I’m to come alone, but this time not to the woods, but to Beatrice’ house.

The house is dark, but the soft glow of candlelight flickers in the window. I enter and a note on the foyer table tells me to go to the second floor. The house is eerie like this, quiet and empty, but curiosity takes hold. This isn’t just a house. It’s Rex’s childhood home. A shrine to his dead mother and family.

The instructions, set next to a lantern with a handle on top, say to go to the third door on the right, but I disobey, opening two others before I find the one I’m looking for. Rex’s childhood bedroom. It, too, is set up like a museum: everything, from toys to photographs to the sports themed bedding, frozen in time.

I stop to look at a photograph of the family and hold up the light. Anex, Bea, and Rex, probably about six, posed outside on a beautiful fall day. Anex, who went by Tim before his wife died, is handsome, with warm sun-kissed skin and a wide smile. Beatrice is pretty—and I can see shades of both of them in their son. Rex stands between his parents on a brick wall, arms around their shoulders. I try to find hints of the man he is now, the man that spends his time tormenting me, but all I see is a sweet little boy.

I feel a tug of sorrow for the loss of him.

“There you are,” a voice says, dragging me from my thoughts.

“Margaret.” She’s not hooded this time, although she’s in dark clothes. I guess we’re not hiding this time.

“Did you get turned around?” her question has a tone, one that implies that she knows I didn’t misread the directions.

“Yes,” I lie. “I was just so nervous; I didn’t pay attention.”

She takes my hand. “Don’t be nervous. Tonight is about Enlightenment. When you walk out this door, you’ll have the weight of womanhood lifted from your shoulders.”

The weight of womanhood. Is that the cause for the noose around my neck? I follow Margaret to the room next door. It’s the master bedroom. My spine goes rigid when I look behind the headboard. There’s a painting—a portrait—of Anex. It’s huge, framed in gold. He’s sitting in on his lecture chair, legs crossed, body casual. I’ve seen this position a million times. At celebrations, at midnight meetings, at any event where he’s speaking. Now he looks down at us, his blue eyes painted an unnaturally bright color blue.

I’m so caught up on this painting—disturbed by it, I don’t even notice that at the foot of the bed, a circle has been drawn and single candle, surrounded by various stones, marks the middle.

Margaret looks up at the painting and says, “A reminder that this ceremony is blessed by Anex and all he wants is for you to find your true self.” She squeezes my shoulder and moves to stands over the circle. “This is the circle of confession. A place where you will release the burdens that hold you back from your true self.”

“Isn’t that what Correction is about?”

She smiles, her lips looking elongated in the shadowy light. “This is different. It’s about sharing your burdens to another woman. Someone who can help carry the weight.” Her hands thrust over the circle and reach for mine. “It will be a journey; one we will take together. Are you ready?”

My heart thuds, a month ago this would have been a dream. Spending time with Anex’s spiritual wife, would have fulfilled all of my wishes, but now… it’s not just scary, it’s terrifying. I have secrets. Big ones, ones that could hurt so many people.

But she doesn’t wait for my response, stepping into the circle and drawing me in with her. We both sit, her on one side and me on the other. With my hands still in hers, and our knees parallel. Her smile is kind, and I remember who I am, how I was raised and what I believe.

The Way will always carry me through. Margaret is just another guide.

“I’m ready,” I say, a few minutes too late.

“Good. Did you prepare like you were told?”

The folded-up paper burns in my pocket. I retrieve it, but don’t hand it over. Not yet.

“Is that your collateral?” she asks.

“Yes,” I say, my stomach rolling with uneasiness. “I wasn’t exactly sure what you wanted.”

Although, that’s not entirely true. They want secrets. Dirt. Skeletons in the closet. The directions were clear, I was to write down a confession about something in my life, a secret no one else knew about, that if I told anyone about the woman’s group or ever betrayed anyone else involved, that secret, or collateral, would be used against me.

For me, it wasn’t a matter of if I had a secret that could be used for collateral, but which one I should share.

I’d thought hard about it. Channeled The Way. Searched for the right answer. There wasn’t one. I could just as easily write down that Rex wants to destroy his father, that our Ordering is a sham, or that he’s searching for the truth about my mother and his. I could tell them about the intensity of my Corrections: how it’s moved beyond seeking Enlightenment for my Lapses and down a dark, seductive, rabbit hole I can’t escape. I could confess to the panties in my drawer, the porn on Silas’ computer… there are too many infractions to count.

But most of those were approved of by Anex. And the stuff about Rex? That’s a betrayal with deep consequences. So, I wrote down the only thing that felt like it was big enough, but also everyone involved knew about.

“Just read me what you wrote down,” Margaret says.

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