The Testaments(43)

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On the third day of my idleness, Paula had the Marthas bring several cardboard boxes to my room. It was time to put away childish things, she said. My belongings could go into storage as very soon I would not be living here anymore. Then, once I was ordering my new household, I could decide which of these belongings should be donated to the poor. A less privileged girl from an Econofamily would take great joy in my old dollhouse, for instance; although it was not top quality and was in a shoddy state, some paint here and there would do wonders.

The dollhouse had stood near my window for many years. The happy hours I’d spent with Tabitha were still contained within it. There was the Wife doll, sitting at the dining table; there were the little girls, behaving themselves; there were the Marthas in the kitchen, making bread; there was the Commander, safely locked into his study. After Paula had left, I plucked the Wife doll out of her chair and threw her across the room.





26


The next thing Aunt Gabbana did was to bring in a wardrobe team, as Paula put it, since I was considered incapable of choosing what I was to wear in the time leading up to my wedding, and especially at the wedding itself. You must understand that I was not anybody in my own right—although of the privileged class, I was just a young girl about to be confined to wedlock. Wedlock: it had a dull metallic sound, like an iron door clicking shut.

The wardrobe team was in charge of what you might call the stage set: the costumes, the refreshments, the decor. None of them had a dominating personality, which was why they had been relegated to these relatively menial duties; so even though all Aunts had high status, Paula—who did have a dominating personality—was able to boss the wedding-brigade Aunts around, within limits.

The three of them came up to my bedroom, Paula accompanying them, where—having finished my footstool project—I was amusing myself as best as I could by playing Solitaire.

The deck I used was normal in Gilead, but in case this deck is not known to the outside world I will describe it. Naturally there were not any letters on the Ace, King, Queen, or Jack cards, nor were there any numbers on the number cards. The Aces were a large Eye looking out of a cloud. Kings wore Commander uniforms, Queens were Wives, and Jacks were Aunts. The face cards were the most powerful cards. Of the suits, Spades were Angels, Clubs were Guardians, Diamonds were Marthas, and Hearts were Handmaids. Each face card had a border of smaller figures: a Wife of Angels would have a blue Wife with a border of small black-clad Angels, and a Commander of Handmaids would have a border of tiny Handmaids.

Later, once I had access to the Ardua Hall library, I researched these cards. Far back in history, Hearts were once Chalices. Perhaps that is why the Handmaids were Hearts: they were precious containers.

The three wardrobe-team Aunts advanced into my room. Paula said, “Put your game away and stand up, please, Agnes,” in her sweetest voice—the voice of hers that I disliked the most because I knew how fraudulent it was. I did as I was told, and the three Aunts were introduced: Aunt Lorna, plump-faced and smiling; Aunt Sara Lee, stoop-shouldered and taciturn; and Aunt Betty, dithery and apologetic.

“They’re here for a fitting,” Paula said.

“What?” I said. Nobody ever alerted me about anything; they did not see the need for it.

“Don’t say What, say Pardon,” said Paula. “A fitting for the clothes you will be wearing to your Premarital Preparatory classes.”

Paula ordered me to take off my pink school uniform, which I was still wearing since I didn’t have any other kinds of clothes, apart from my white dress for church. I stood in the middle of the room in my slip. The air wasn’t cold, but I could feel the goose bumps rising on my skin, from being looked at and considered. Aunt Lorna took my measurements, and Aunt Betty wrote them down in a small notebook. I watched her carefully; I always watched the Aunts when they were writing secret messages to themselves.

Then I was told I could put my uniform back on, which I did.

There was a discussion about whether I would need new underclothing for the interim period. Aunt Lorna thought it would be nice, but Paula said it was unnecessary because the time in question would be short and what I had still fit me. Paula won.

Then the three Aunts went away. They came back several days later with two outfits, one for spring and summer and one for fall and winter. They were themed in green: spring green with white accents—pocket trims, collars—for spring and summer, and spring green with dark green accents for fall and winter. I’d seen girls my age wearing these dresses, and I knew what they meant: spring green was for fresh leaves, so the girl was ready for marriage. Econofamilies were not allowed such extravagances, however.

The clothes the Aunts brought had already been worn, but they weren’t worn out, since nobody wore the green clothing for long. They’d been altered to fit me. The skirts were five inches above the ankle, the sleeves came to the wrist, the waists were loose, the collars high. Each had a matching hat, with a brim and a ribbon. I hated these outfits, though moderately: if I had to have clothes, these were not the worst. I found some hope in the fact that all the seasons had been provided for: maybe I would make it all the way through fall and winter without having to get married.

My old pink and plum clothes were taken away to be cleaned and reused for younger girls. Gilead was at war; we did not like to throw things out.