Chapter 8

Mara had begun, in the past week, to make dinner earlier on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

It had not been a decision so much as an accommodation. Kiya came home from the hospice tired in a way that was different from any tired she had been before, and she did not eat well if dinner was at the usual seven. So Mara had started putting things in the oven at four, and the table was set by five thirty, and when Kiya came in the door from the hospice she could sit down and eat without having to wait or talk or perform the part of a daughter who had had an ordinary afternoon.

On Thursday Mara made a roast chicken. It was a thing she had not made often when Kiya was growing up because it had been her mother-in-law’s specialty and Mara had ceded the territory. Her mother-in-law had been dead five years now. Mara had begun making the chicken again last winter and had found, to her quiet surprise, that she made it better than her mother-in-law had. She did not tell her husband this. He did not need to know.

She was pulling it out of the oven when Kiya texted that they were leaving the hospice.

Stephanie had the envelope ready on the blanket again.

“Sit,” she said. “Bring out yours.”

Kiya took her copy of the checklist out of her tote and handed it across. Stephanie took it and laid it on top of her own. She had her glasses on already. The bed was raised. Caroline had been in and gone. The afternoon light through the window was bright today, white-gold, the kind of light that came in late October when the air outside had gotten thin and clean.

“Did you sleep this week,” Stephanie said.

“Yes. Mostly.”

“You look thin.”

“I have been eating less. Not on purpose. I think I am thinking too much to be hungry.”

“That will pass. He will feed you well. He has rules about food. We will get to those in a few visits. Are you ready.”

“Yes.”

“Today is the middle third. Today is the harder physical material. I am going to ask you about some things you have not done and have not seen done and have probably read about only a little. Some of your answers are going to be guesses. That is acceptable. We are going to find out, by talking about your guesses, whether the guess is in the direction of yes or in the direction of no. The mark on the page does not have to be a final mark. The mark on the page is a starting position. Yes.”

“Yes.”

Stephanie turned the page. She slid Kiya’s copy on top of her own copy so the two were side by side on the blanket. Her annotations in the second column on the first third were visible in pen. The pen was a different color from Kiya’s. Stephanie’s hand was less steady than Kiya’s but the writing was clearer, the way the handwriting of older women often was.

“Impact play. The general heading. You marked the heading yes. Hand spanking yes. Paddling yes. Flogger yes. Riding crop no. Cane no. Single-tail no. The line is clear.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me about the line.”

“The implements I said yes to are the ones I can absorb. The ones I said no to are the ones I cannot. The cane is too sharp. Each strike is its own event. I would not be able to ride it. The single-tail is worse and the risk of injury is real even with a skilled hand. The riding crop I do not want for reasons I do not have to articulate. I read about all three. I decided about all three. The marks are firm.”

Stephanie nodded once.

“Good. He has all three implements. He had them before me. He has not gotten rid of them and he will not because they are his property and a man does not throw out his property because his slave does not want it on her. He will not use them on you. He used the cane on me twice in our first year and not after. He never used the single-tail on me. The crop he has not picked up in years. Your noes are honored. He will not come back to them and he will not test them.”

“Yes.”

“The flogger he loves. The paddle he is good with. The hand he prefers above all of it. You will have a great deal of his hand in your life with him. He believes the hand is the implement that does not lie. The hand is connected to the man. The other implements have wood and leather between the man and the slave. The hand has nothing between. He will use the hand more than anything else.”