The Priest (7 page)

“You didn’t want to eat?”

“I’ve been really hungry.” Mauricio wanted
to laugh.

Rosie’s eyes widened in understanding and
she blushed even deeper. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” She came
closer to Mauricio.

“Don’t worry.” He was affected by her
proximity.

“I forget how things are for… you.” Rosie
put a hand on his bed without touching him.

Mauricio wanted to move his hand and touch
hers again, but doing so on purpose was unthinkable. He didn’t dare
change his position on the small frame of the bed.

“Sometimes I think that Ginecea should be
different. I don’t understand why things are the way they are.”

Mauricio looked at her, transfixed. He
couldn’t believe what she was saying.

“You are the President’s daughter!” Mauricio
exclaimed.

“How do you know?”

“I overheard the guards talking about you.”
Mauricio remained vague on purpose.

“Oh, I can imagine the things they say.”
Rosie laughed again.

“Not great things, actually.” Mauricio
laughed too and realized that it felt good to be able to share a
laugh in such carefree way.

“I heard them talking about me when they
didn’t realize I was there. I heard ‘stupid brat’ and ‘spoiled
breed.’ I’m sure that they were being polite,” Rosie said with
levity.

“No, that’s pretty much about it. What I
heard was more or less along the same line.”

“I feel better, already.”

“Why are you here?” He knew it all too well
now, but it felt the right thing to ask.

“I wanted a baby,” Rosie said with a clipped
voice.

“Is your wife here with you?”

“No.” Rosie’s voice had become very
cold.

Mauricio felt a weight on his chest at her
answer. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

Rosie stared at a corner for few seconds,
breathed slow and then finally looked at him again. “You didn’t.
Your question was to be expected,” she said in a gentler tone.

Mauricio thought that, if anything, his
question wasn’t to be expected at all, him being a slave and she,
the President’s daughter.

“I’m not married. I’m here by myself,” she
admitted slowly.

Mauricio sensed there was something else she
wasn’t saying, but he wasn’t going to make the same mistake
twice.

Rosie decided to satiate his curiosity
anyway. “I don’t want to do the things that are expected of me,”
she said with a timid smile.

“Don’t tell me,” Mauricio couldn’t help to
reply.

“I’m sorry… I seem to be very clumsy with
words around you. It’s that I’ve never talked to a slave before.”
Rosie realized that she had just done it again and put a hand over
her mouth. “It’s just that I don’t know what to say…”

“It’s okay. I feel the same way, but I like
that you talk to me.” Mauricio felt like he was in a dreamlike
state again. It happened a lot where Rosie was concerned.

“I do, too. I don’t act with you. I don’t
have to put on a mask. I smile because I want to,” Rosie said, as
if she was realizing it at that moment. “It is so refreshing to be
able to just be myself. Not the President’s daughter everybody has
to like in public, not the spoiled brat nobody likes in private.
Just Rosie.” She paused for a moment and then added, “But I’m
afraid I don’t even know how to be just Rosie. Because I’ve never
been just me. I’ve never been good enough for the rest of the
world.”

Rosie looked back at Mauricio and started
laughing. “Poor me, right? I’m complaining about my life to a
slave!” she said between chuckles. “Oops… I guess that I’m beyond
salvation at this point.” Rosie tried to stop laughing, but any
attempt failed and she doubled over, unable to sober up.

“I’m not offended. I
am
a slave.”
Mauricio shrugged his shoulders.

“I know, and it’s not funny.”

“No, it’s not. Not for me at least,” he said
with a gentle tone.

“I know!”

Mauricio heard the machine at his right
beeping softly, he turned around and saw that the there was no
liquid dripping from the bag to the pipe connected to his arm. He
shot a warning look at Rosie one second before a nurse came into
the room.

“Mistress! What are you doing here?” The
nurse, a middle-aged woman with a graceless voice, looked wildly
around, trying to assess what she was seeing.

“Did he attack you?” the nurse asked,
worried.

“This slave is bound to a bed with an IV
attached to his arm. I bet he can barely walk. How could he attack
me?” Rosie had changed tone completely.

Mauricio saw the transformation before his
eyes and couldn’t believe she was the same person he had been
talking to. The girl staring down at the nurse was haughty and
cold. Rosie almost looked like a younger version of the
Priestess.

“These rooms are all the same. I’m late for
my check,” she said as if it was the nurse’s fault.

“Oh, I’m sorry. You’re right, of course,
Mistress. The hallway of the birth center isn’t, well—” The nurse
was interrupted by a single stare from Rosie. “If you want to
follow me, I’ll escort you to your room.”

“Let’s go.” Rosie walked out with her back
straight. The nurse scampered outside with a worried expression on
her face.

Please, please, look at me, just one more
time…
It had pained him to see that she could be like the other
women. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, and yet it was. He
thought about her the whole day. And, when he wasn’t thinking about
her, he played in his mind, over and over again, the Priestess’
words. Not that he had anything else to do, in any case. The doctor
came later on to take a look at his vitals, but she didn’t seem
greatly concerned. Mauricio knew that the Priestess’ interest in
his wellbeing had actually given him angrier enemies, if that was
even possible given his status as untouchable, among both men and
women.

He wasn’t an ordinary semental slave
anymore. He was now the semental slave guards were losing their job
over. Not a nice position to be in. The doctor was looking at him,
and Mauricio shivered in anticipation of what was coming.

“I know why the Priestess wants you alive
and well, but I don’t like it. You better behave, or… else,” the
doctor said.

Mauricio knew all too well what ‘else’
meant. He lowered his head in submission and didn’t complain when
the doctor yanked the needle out of his arm. Had he complained, the
doctor would have found some new, painful analysis he needed. As it
was, she grumbled something and then called two guards to take the
slave back to his cell.

He walked between the two guards, almost
grateful that he was going back to the familiarity of his cell.
While passing by one of the doors opening into the hallway, he
heard Rosie’s voice. Without warning, the guard in front of him
slowed down and he collided into her.

“Don’t touch me.” The guard pushed him out
of the way.

He staggered, lost his footing and ended on
the floor. “Get up, you idiot,” the second guard said.

Give me a moment, for Heavens’ sake.

The women must have heard the Priestess’
voice because they stopped for a moment to listen; the door was
open and a shaft of light flooded the darkness. Mauricio raised his
head and saw Rosie deep in conversation with the Priestess. The
older woman was wearing a plain green gown over her usual garish
dress and she was reading something from a tablet. Rosie was lying
on a bed, her body covered by white linen. He saw her
absentmindedly wrapping her fingers around a corner of the linen
sheet.

“The baby is fine. She survived the worst.
In a week or two, if everything keeps improving, and I don’t see
why it wouldn’t, you are going home for good.” The Priestess’ tone
was calm, but it was clear that she had been repeating the same
words several times.

“After all the blood I lost last time, I’m
still worried that my baby isn’t going to make it,” Rosie said.

“Yes, I admit I would be scared too, but you
are young, and the baby is strong. She’s going to have a wonderful
life.” The Priestess talked to Rosie with a mix of sympathy and
irritation.

“I know you don’t want me here. I’ll be out
of the way as soon as you can assure me that my baby is one hundred
percent fine,” Rosie said matter-of-factly.

“It’s not—” The Priestess shook her
head.

“I don’t care if you like me or not. I
probably wouldn’t like me if I were in your place. The only thing
that matters is the health of my baby. I know that you wouldn’t
send me home just to get rid of me. I trust your integrity on
this.” Rosie’s words were out of line, even for the President’s
daughter.

Mauricio’s guards gasped loudly, and all of
a sudden, both the Priestess and Rosie turned around and saw them.
Rosie’s eyes locked with Mauricio’s for a brief moment and then she
turned around again to face anything but him. But Mauricio saw
her
.

“What are you doing out there?” the
Priestess asked, cross from the interruption. She closed the door
with a slam without waiting for an answer.

“On our way to his cell,” one of the two
guards answered anyway. She pulled Mauricio up and against the wall
and murmured to him, “Walk.” She didn’t have to add any menacing
words to it; the tone said it all.

Soon after, he was left in his cell, the
fourth or fifth—he had lost track—of the six promised meals arrived
and he ate. Mauricio spent what little was left of the day nibbling
at his food and napping. Soon, darkness engulfed his cell and
Mauricio waited to hear her steps. Although he tried to keep his
eyes opened and his mind alert, he was still weak and dozed on and
off. At one point in the evening, he rested his head on the bed and
stared at the window.

“Are you there?” Rosie’s voice came from the
outside world, bringing with her a playful gust of air.

Mauricio sat up immediately and stretched
his sleepy body.

“Yes,” he answered back.

“How are you now?” she asked. Her voice
sounded closer to Mauricio’s cell.

“Much better, thanks.” Mauricio felt even
better now.

“I had to cut you dead today,” she said
softly.

“I understood.” Mauricio didn’t say that it
had really stung.

“I didn’t want you to be in any trouble,”
she explained in the same tone.

“I know.” It was good to hear it out loud.
“But… you sounded so different…”

“Like the spoiled brat everybody talks
about?”

He didn’t confirm her words, but his lips
curved up.

“It’s okay; I know I can be obnoxious. I’m
really good at that. It’s one of my favorite characters. The
spoiled brat keeps the brownnosers away.” Rosie chuckled her
crystalline laugh.

“I imagine she has been useful to you.”

“You have no idea how hard it is to mete
between the people I can trust and the ones who only want to take
advantage of me.” Rosie wasn’t laughing anymore; her voice had
grown serious in a matter of seconds.

“No, I don’t.” Mauricio was somber. He was
frustrated by the fact that even using the same alphabet, they were
speaking two different languages. Their lives were opposing to the
point that even the same word didn’t mean the same thing for either
of them. “I am alone. And I’m normally at the receiving end of the
meting out
.” His dad had used to tell him religious stories
and the verb ‘mete’ was associated in Mauricio’s memory with
ancient tales of justice and retribution. His dad had told him
beautiful stories of a time when the men weren’t slaves. Now, as a
man, Mauricio thought that probably his dad had invented the tales
for him.

“Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so alone. It’s
painful,” Mauricio said to the wall.

“Sometimes I wish I had the power to change
the things I don’t like,” Rosie continued.

“Like what? You’re a woman; you can do
anything you want! What would you like to change so much?” Mauricio
asked, interested.

“The fact that you’re a slave,” Rosie simply
answered.

Once again, Mauricio was speechless.

“I don’t think it’s right.”

“I agree,” Mauricio managed to say.
Something deep inside him broke at her words. “I don’t think your
mother is going to be happy to hear that, though,” he said after
having steadied his voice. He sounded almost cheerful.

“No, she isn’t proud of me. I’m the daughter
her publicist had suggested to hide in some forgotten college. I
came here to have a child out of wedlock instead,” Rosie said in a
light tone, but her pause at the end said otherwise.

“Do they know that you are here?”

“No. I’ve managed the impossible. I’ve
tricked the whole Presidential staff, my two lovely mothers, and
their less-than-lovely publicist into thinking that I was going to
do what they had suggested. Everybody back home thinks I am
studying marine biology in a remote college.” She laughed
heartily.

“How did you do that?” Mauricio asked to
keep the conversation going. He wasn’t ready to talk at length,
yet.

“I bribed lots and lots of people. And my
mothers are paying for my tuition.’” Rosie sounded satisfied and
Mauricio smiled at the tone of her voice.

“You know another thing I would change if I
could?” Rosie asked abruptly.

“No, what is it?” Mauricio was amazed that a
woman with so many privileges had unfulfilled desires.

“I would love to raise this baby by myself.
Alone. Somewhere far away from Ginecea and the Presidential
Palace.”

“What will happen to you if your mothers
find out?” Mauricio couldn’t imagine that the President’s daughter
could escape her heritage easily.

“
When
they find me, which I know is
just a matter of time—I am not delusional—I’ll be stored away
somewhere I can’t create a scandal. The family publicist is going
to find a solution to the problem,” Rosie said the last words with
a broken voice. “I’m just biding my time to give my baby a chance,”
she added as an afterthought.