Anna Dressed in Blood - Kendare Blake [65]
“It’s for a dance, Mama,” Anna says angrily. “A dance at school.”
“This?” Her mother holds the dress up and spreads it out with both hands. “This is for dancing?” She shakes it in the air. “Whore! You will not go dancing! Spoiled girl. You will not leave this house!”
At the top of the stairs, I hear a softer, sweeter voice. An olive-skinned woman with long black hair in a braid takes Anna by the shoulders. This must be Maria, the seamstress who was Anna’s friend, who left her own daughter behind in Spain.
“Do not be angry, Mrs. Korlov,” Maria says quickly. “I help her. It was my idea. Something pretty.”
“You,” Mrs. Korlov spits. “You’ve made it worse. Whispering your Spanish filth into my daughter’s ears. She has become willful since you came. Proud. I won’t have you whispering to her anymore. I want you out of this house!”
“No!” Anna shouts.
The man takes a step closer to his fiancée. “Malvina,” he says. “We do not need to lose boarders.”
“Hush, Elias,” Malvina snaps. I’m beginning to understand why Anna couldn’t just tell her mother what Elias was after.
The scene speeds up. I can feel more than see what’s happening. Malvina throws the dress at Anna and orders her to burn it. She slaps her across the face when she tries to convince her to let Maria stay. Anna is crying, but only the Anna in the memory. The real Anna is hissing as she watches, black blood boiling. I feel like doing a mixture of the two.
Time moves ahead, and my eyes and ears strain to follow Maria as she goes, leaving with only one suitcase. I hear Anna ask what she’s going to do, begging her to stay close by. And then all but one of the lamps goes out, and the windows outside are dark.
Malvina and Elias are in the sitting room. Malvina is knitting something out of dark blue yarn and Elias is reading the newspaper, smoking a pipe. They look miserable, even in their evening routines of pleasure. Their faces are slack and bored, mouths drawn in thin, grim lines. I have no idea how this courtship went, but it had to be about as interesting as watching bowling on TV. My mind moves to Anna—all of our minds move to Anna—and as if we summoned her, she comes down the stairs.
I have the strange sensation of wanting to squeeze my eyes shut while not being able to take them off something. She’s wearing the white dress. It’s the dress that she’ll die in, but it doesn’t look the same on her now as it did then.
This girl, standing at the foot of the staircase, holding a cloth bag and watching the surprised and increasingly furious expressions of Malvina and Elias, is incredibly alive. Her shoulders are square and strong, and her dark hair hangs in still waves down her back. She lifts her chin. I wish I could see her eyes, because I know that they’re sad and triumphant.
“What do you think you are doing?” Malvina demands. She’s looking at her daughter in horror, like she doesn’t know who she is. The air around her seems to ripple, and I get a whiff of the power Thomas was talking about.
“I’m going to the dance,” Anna replies calmly. “And I am not coming home.”
“You will go to no dance,” Malvina says acidly, rising up from her chair like she’s stalking prey. “You will go nowhere in that disgusting dress.” She advances on her daughter, squinting and swallowing hard, like she might be sick. “You wear white like a bride, but what man will take you after you let schoolboys lift your skirts!” She rears her head back like a viper and spits in Anna’s face. “Your father would be ashamed.”
Anna doesn’t move. The only thing that betrays any emotion is the rapid rising and falling of her ribs.
“Papa loved me,” she says softly. “I do not know why you don’t.”
“Bad girls are as useless as they are stupid,” Malvina says with a wave of her hand. I don’t know what she means. I think her English is faltering. Or maybe she’s just dumb. I think that might be it.
There’s bile in my throat as I watch and listen. I’ve never heard anyone speak to their kid this way. I want to reach out and shake her until she gets some sense.