She said I had spun poor Ferdinand in with my lies, and spat him out again, broken and cruel. For her, all evil comes from me. It never even occurred to her, I think, that Ferdinand might have had his own reasons, that I hadn’t been the only one to suffer in that house. Your mother wouldn’t know anything about that, though, tender little tangerine-marzipan girl that she is.
She’ll never know the taste of pale fruit.
XXVII
I know what you are thinking now: if I was so convinced that Mara would do something bad, why didn’t I do more to stop her?
Well, I did—did all I could—everything within my might. That night, after Ferdinand left the lilac house for the last time, Pepper-Man and I walked out to the mound. We found Mara by the brook, cleaning her teeth with a crow’s bone.
“I know why you are here,” she said upon seeing us. “But there really is no need. I won’t listen to your advice, no matter how wise you think it is.”
“Why?” I asked. “Why is this so important to you? Why can’t you just let those people be?”
“Those people are your family—and mine, too. If I don’t deal with them, who will?”
“No one will, that’s the whole point. No one will be dealing with anyone—”
“Why not?” She looked me square in the eyes.
I suddenly felt lost for words, I didn’t quite know what to tell her. Maybe it was my upbringing, some deep-set fear and loathing, or a habit of keeping quiet that made me so reluctant to touch the subject of family, of them, and the deeds that went on in the white room.
“Ferdinand hasn’t done anything. He is blameless, and still he’s offering you his heart.”
“And I am very grateful for it too.”
“Why do you want him? What are you planning?”
“Are you worried that I’ll bite?”
“I know what you are capable of, Mara, I don’t need a demonstration. But why him? Why Ferdinand? The softest man alive…”
“Because he wants to.” She dropped the bone and stretched out her legs. “He wants me to come and infuse his petty life with blood. He wants to feel something, Mother … anything will do.”
“And what will he do for you? What’s the purpose of it all?”
“If I told you, you would try to stop me, and what is the fun in that?”
“There’s no fun in any of this, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. Revenge I can understand, Mara, but the destruction of an innocent—”
“No one is innocent,” she said lazily, fingers trailing the mossy ground. “You have taught me that yourself.”
“He only wants to help you—”
“I know.”
“Stop this, Mara, before it’s too late.”
“Too late for what, Mother? It’s already too late.” She jumped up to her feet, eyes blazing. “Here I am, cast aside like a rag doll to the mound. Never have I tasted salt, never have I shared your roof, never have I felt the sun upon my brow … I was gone before I even began! I was nothing from the start! You should have let me stay that way: nothing!”
I shook my head, utterly confused. “How can you say that? At least there was life, and we loved you so much, ever since you came—”
She laughed then, dry and bitter like autumn leaves. “You could have spared yourselves the effort. What is born of cruelty begets cruelty. You cannot love darkness back to light, can’t love death back to life. What is dead is dead, what is hate will hate. I was born to this, Mother. I was born to be your spear.”
“No!” It was as if she slapped me. My chest ached as my heart split open, flooding me with bitter salt. I gathered my cardigan close to my body and wiped tears from my eyes with the back of my hand. “You were born to be mine,” I said in a whisper, “you were born to be my daughter, and I will love you and cherish you and keep you close always.”
She stood before me, straight as a rod. “I am your voice, when you will not speak.”
“I spoke in Dr. Martin’s book—”
“I am your hand when you won’t make a fist.”
“It is so pointless, Mara. Anger gets you nowhere—”
“I am your knife, when you will not cut.”
“It will ruin you, Mara, I know it will—you should never go near that evil man.”
“But I will,” she said, “when you won’t.”
Pepper-Man had stood back until then; now he approached us by the brook.