In Search of Satisfaction (18 page)

On the last evening before Carlene was to leave, Richard senior gave a dinner party and invited several of his friends for the weekend. The ladies were excused soon after dinner, and the men sat smoking and drinking whiskey and brandy, playing cards, laughing and talking way into the night. Finally, the younger ladies were excused to go to bed.

Near dawn, Carlene was awakened from a very light sleep already filled with worry. She heard her bedroom door opening. She pushed the covers from her face and turned, looking over her shoulder to see her uncle half-carrying his son in to her. His voice rasped, “Hush! Be quiet.” He spoke roughly but softly. “Pull the covers all the way back. Here, help me undress him.” She moved quickly, grasping the idea like a smart Befoe. She tried to blush at the son’s nakedness but forgot about it quickly as they lay him in the bed. Uncle Richard left quickly, saying, “Look sharp ahead!” as he closed her door.

Carlene pushed Richard junior to see if he really was so drunk and asleep that he could not be awakened. She wanted to feel his private member to see the size and feel of it. She did. It became hard. It was not as long as his father’s. She sighed. She lay quietly a moment then decided to get on top of him. Second thoughts occurred to her, “If he wakes up and I am on top, he will never believe he raped me, a virgin.”
She lay his private member quietly down thinking, “I don’t like him like that anyway!”

She was almost asleep when her door opened softly again. Her uncle came quietly into the room dressed in his pajamas, saying, “We must give him proof.”

She sat up. “Proof?”

“Yes. Get out of the bed.” He pulled the covers back and she got out. “Now get down on your knees, bend over the bed like you are crying.” She did that, too. He knelt down behind her. “Now,” he whispered, “If he wakes up, we can say I was consoling you. I will have time to put myself away.” He lifted her gown over her plump round hips shining in the little moonlight that shone into the room.

“No, no,” she started to say, but he held the front of her body, pressed her thighs apart, holding her “rosebud” in one hand. Raising himself up a little, he eased himself forward, guiding himself to enter her. She moaned and put her head down on the bed, spreading her arms out. He worked slowly and quietly. He covered her mouth several times with one of his hands to stop her from making her sounds, she moaned so. He sucked on her shoulders to keep himself from crying out. When, finally, they were finished, he wiped himself on her gown and told her to put her fingers into herself and smear them on his son’s penis. He took a small vial filled with chicken blood prepared earlier in the day and told her to smear some of that on his son, also. “So he will know you were a virgin.” He wiped himself on her gown again, patted her on the head and the behind. His last words were, “Let nothing keep you from leaving here tomorrow, dear Niece. Good luck and good night!” Then he was gone.

Carlene, as clever as she was, was inexperienced. She did not know how to think of all that had happened to her. She was in something she did not understand; she was confused. Her mind had never thought of marriage with her uncle, yet … What did she want? Had she been used? Did her uncle love her in another kind of way than he did his wife? All these thoughts and more ran through her mind. Satan loves to create confusion; people don’t hardly know what they are doing then. With another deep sigh, she did all her uncle had told her to do. “I can think about the other stuff tomorrow. Tonight I had better take care of the important things.” She was a real Befoe!

The man Richard who lay beside her, who was to stand with her to the end of his days, who had made no deliberate choices, who was considered a fool both by one who had been and one who would be the most important person in his life. One of them was a fool and the other one would be a fool. But now he blindly loved and trusted his father and his future wife. He thought things in life were as they should be, not as they were. Ignorance is not always bliss.

Richard the younger was undone when he, at last, woke up. He held a tearful Carlene briefly before reaching for his clothes. She cried in truth from anxiety, confusion and fear. Embarrassed and ashamed, he apologized profusely. As he went through her doorway, he said sadly, “We better get married soon.” She nodded her head in haste and smiled through the tears that disappeared shortly after he shut the door.

Later that day, holding fast to his arm, she left in a carriage for the train station. Head held straight, chin high, eyes misty, she looked back to wave to Richard senior, but he looked away as he turned to his wife and walked back into his home, the mansion. Carlene was to love him all her life.

Carl Befoe thought something was amiss when his daughter wanted to plan the wedding “right away! This month! No later than next month!” Her lips trembling, her eyes all teary. But he didn’t think of the right thing amiss. “You have a scoundrel for a son,” he wrote his older brother Richard.

“Yes, he is. But he is going to marry your weak and innocent daughter” was a line in the otherwise respectful answer. Actually, they both laughed at the episode—one, at the joy of young love and the other, at the joy of his clever love. “Imagine,” the older Richard laughed to himself, “a child at my age!” Carlene cried herself to sleep many nights thinking of him. Her love.

And so she was married in the grandest wedding the society of America had seen in a long time, and the rich are certainly known for their grand gestures. There were twelve bridesmaids, one of whom was Virginia Michelson who caught the eye of several and later became Master Krupt’s wife and Yinyang’s mother. At the wedding, Virginia also caught the eye of Carl Befoe. Eventually he gave her, among other things, a diamond ring of such proportion that Carlene hated Virginia Krupt for the rest of her life, socializing with her only to keep an eye on what her father might be doing playing the fool.

But now, it was Carlene’s stage. Satin, silk and lace imported from France, cut and sewn into creations “fit for an angel,” said the angel’s father. Finally Carlene marched down the glorious aisle with her betrothed, his father smiling benignly over it all. The baby snuggled securely in its mother’s womb. And it was done. Champagne flowed all day and all night to celebrate the event.

The honeymoon, a gift from the husband’s family, was a trip to Europe, the romantic isles of Italy and the clothing center of the world, Paris. Carlene made small screams and squirms on her wedding night and performed as duly expected. But her husband was not his father and, his experience being so much less, he left Carlene turned on her side away from him. She cried softly, felt cheated and began to dislike her kind husband even more. Satan, very busy all over the world, still noticed Carlene and said, “Bravo!”

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even months later, a child was born “premature.” A girl-child, properly named Richlene after her father, Richard. Everyone was pleased and relieved. Carlene had had a miserable pregnancy. She shouted out at household help, slapping them at times. She was mean to everyone, including her husband. She did not like him to touch her. He was not his father. One thing she had wanted, she got. Her name was still Befoe.

Richard senior died a few years after the birth of Richlene. Shot while hunting with his wife and friends, an accident, everyone said. It was a shame his wife had to see him like that, everyone said. Marian had found him. In his own woods where he had seduced so many lovely women while his wife sat looking through the windows of the rich house thinking of what he was doing. He had seen the child only a few times when Carlene and Richard came to visit. After his death, instead of becoming closer to her son and grandchild, Marian became even more distant by always being busy or away when her son planned to bring his wife home with him on his frequent visits to see his mother. Carlene thought with fear and anger, “If she knows the secret, she kept it to herself. Well, she is used to keeping her husband’s secrets, I’m sure.”

Now everyone may think Carlene was the winner in the little farce,
but certain things done in life demand their price. It is a miserable thing to hate the person you are married to. To lie beside them night after night all your life, if it ends that way. Richard was not the only loser. To have a good marriage is one of the greatest things in life. To be with the one you love. You know.

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arlene leaned back in her chair, shook her head as if to clear it. She turned her head slightly and looked at the baby picture of her daughter Richlene. How cute, adorable and messy she had been. She had been a quiet baby. Hardly any trouble at all. Only sometimes, she cried and cried for what seemed like no reason at all. Her nanny or mammy could not find out what was wrong with her. Then, just as she would suddenly start crying, she just as suddenly stopped. She would be the sweet, quiet baby everyone loved for several weeks. Then the crying would happen again. Well, everyone became used to the situation, expected it. Carlene would make them take the baby out of her hearing and tell them to “leave her be, let her cry till it’s over.”

When Richlene was two years old and walking fairly well, everyone noticed you had to look deep into her eyes and repeat a word two or three or even four times before she would repeat it back to you. She didn’t talk very much. They let that pass because Carlene said, “Let her be. What has she got to say anyway?” Richard was most often away on business. True business. He was handling responsibilities inherited from his father which involved a great deal of money. He was also slowly taking over some of Carl Befoe’s business. Carlene studied all reports on
everything related to the business, but Richard did the running. When he was home, he spent as much time as he could with his little daughter whom he loved dearly.

When Richlene was five going on six, Carlene’s friends were already taking their children on outings, showing them off dressed in their little angel clothes. Carlene began trying to talk to Richlene but got no response. She looked deeply into her own child’s eyes and saw nothing there except perhaps fear of her mother screaming at her. Richlene’s tiny baby voice said, “Mama. Mama?” Carlene took another deep breath and said, “Mo-ther, I told you, Mo-ther!”

The child began to cry. Carlene shoved the small one away and left the room in a huff. Consequently, Richlene stayed at home and out of sight when guests came to visit, although she was always dressed as a flowery, ruffled angel in case one of the guests accidently saw her.

Richlene took ill a short time later, a throat problem. Under the doctor’s care, she healed. In his final consultation with Carlene and Richard, the doctor suggested, “The child is extremely nervous. Unusually so. You should have her examined for mental health. She is a very … slow child, which might indicate retardation.” Carlene almost screamed, “You are a small town doctor and you do not know what you are talking about!” The doctor shook his head slowly. “Mrs. Befoe, I’m sure of what I am saying.” Carlene snatched her child from his table. Richard gently took Richlene from her and looked earnestly at the doctor. “Then,” Carlene threw over her shoulder as she left the room, “you are a liar! Come, Richard!”

Carlene took to her bed and the bottle. Richard held his little girl, looking searchingly into her eyes. He crooned to her, petted her, soothed her when Carlene screamed at her or when she was upset in any way. He was the one who searched all over America for the finest teachers and schools for Richlene. He loved her. Isn’t life strange? The one who had nothing to do with creating her was her protection, provider, a fighter for her life for her own sake.

They became very close, Richard and Richlene. She always knew when he was leaving on business and she was always inconsolable until he returned. They became close in such a way that Richlene could live around Carlene. Knowing how much her father loved her, Richlene did not depend on Carlene for love. Her whole world was her father and the colored mammy, Mana, who cared for her. She would let few others of
the household help touch her. The regular ones she came to recognize. She would stare at her mother quietly for any length of time she was in the same room with her. She would not let her touch her, however. Her mother brought her to near hysterics.

Richard was always the one to take Richlene to the new doctors and teachers. All new things she shared with him. There came the day when she was eleven and they were alone in a rich hotel room in Switzerland where Richard had found a doctor renowned for his knowledge and success in his school of teaching. Richard had just tucked her into her bed and kissed her.

“Good night, my lovely, little daughter.”

“Good night,” she spoke softly, hesitantly, “my lovely, little dadda.”

He stroked her cheek gently, “Someday you will be fine. I know it.” He moved to the door of her bedroom and turned to look back at her. “Sleep tight.” He switched the light off, then she spoke to him for the first time without repeating what he or someone had just said to her.

“Dadda?” Slowly, laboriously she spoke. “Will … you … pull … the shade … up … so I … may … see the moon … better?”

He held his breath and looked in the direction of his daughter. Quickly, he moved to the window. “Of course, my child.”

“I … love … the moon … Dadda. I love … the sun … but I … I can … not look at … the … sun.”

After arranging the shade and curtains so she could see the moon glistening through the night and shining into the room, lighting the darkness, he moved to the bed, taking her hands in his. “You are speaking, Richlene. Oh, Richlene. And no one has told you what to say.”

“I … can … talk.”

“Then, why …?”

“I can … talk … to you.”

“I am happy! I am glad. Everyone will be happy you can talk!”

“I … do … not want … to talk … to … every … one. I will … talk … only … to you … and … and Mana.”

“She is only a nurse, Richlene. A Negress. There is your mother and, and …”

“Mana … is … my friend.”

“Oh, Richlene, my child, you must.”

“You … have to … pro … mise me. You have to not tell my … mama.”