The Life of a Daughter

Chapter 1: Mary

I went to an all girls school so that I could learn what our teachers called the "domestic arts". We weren't taught to read, do math or the sciences that I heard were taught to all children in Pre-Gilead times. Our teachers told us all that those were all lies anyways and would be unnecessary in our life's as wives. 

When I was really young the Martha of my home would tell me quietly about my birth-mother as I fell asleep. She told me that she was a Handmaid and was there to make it so my parents could be blessed with a child. She only told me the most basic information of her though because if anyone learned what Martha told me she would be sent away. 

"Ofcharles had bright green eyes and dark brown hair just like you do Mary. We were not supposed to speak with her but when we did she had such a kind, gentle voice like yours." said Martha. No matter how many things I asked she would give such simple answers and be sure to remind me that Ofcharles was not my real mother. It always fascinated me hearing about the handmaid who gave birth to me but Mother could never know.

She wasn't ever cruel to my fathers handmaid's but it was clear that she was not happy they were there. I would see her crying in their bedroom sometimes because I don't look like her. I asked her once when I was younger if she didn't love me because we were different but that only made her cry more while she assured me of her love.

Snapped out of my thoughts I hear Martha calling, telling me that it is time for me to practice gardening in our lavish yard. Gardening was one of the tasks we had to learn in school that I started seven years ago when I was eight. I have become quite skilled at not only arranging the flowers in the most beautiful way but also at finding new ways to make them grow faster. I don't tell anyone these secret methods though because some might accuse me of practicing science.

As I work quietly in our garden I hear two of our Marthas  whispering about how I will start my finishing school at the end of the year when I turn 16. I'm told that it is quite an important milestone in a daughters life as it marks when they become women and are taught to become new Wives. I, however, would much rather learn more about how my plants grow and watch the Aunts write when they come visit on occasion. The Marthas sometimes catch me marveling at the words on the page and discretely tell me that I should not concern myself with such pointless activities that could get me in trouble.

I knew that if anyone learned of my forbidden interests that I could be reprimanded and my family name would be forever shamed. That is why for the last 15 years I have dutifully completed my studies and been seen as the perfect daughter that all families hope will one day marry their soon-to-be Commander sons. It is because of my perfect image that I am left alone sometimes in the garden where I can secretly work on new techniques and manipulate my garden as I please. I haven't told anyone but I plan on running away when I arrive at my finishing school.

The Marthas in my house do their fair share of gossiping when they believe I am not listening and I remember hearing them mention once that the revolution is occurring just mere miles away from where I am to be sent off. In the revolution women are free to study whatever they please and are free of all the government's constraints. That is where I am going to go. I am going to be free to learn.