Queen (101 page)

    Queen could not believe her ears, could not believe her friend was sa

    ing this, but it had its effect. Caught between

    y 4~

the devil and the deep blue sea, Queen could only choose the lesser of the

two evils, Even if Digby hit her, as he had hit the beggar, it could be

not worse than losing the only security she had, her friend and her home.

    Emotionally exhausted, Queen slept badly and late. She dressed soberly,

    and made her way to Digby's lodgings. She tapped on the door, and when

    he opened it, he smiled and expressed his pleasure and surprise, but

    wondered if they should go out, for they would be alone in his apartment.

    The lack of a chaperone did not bother Queen. It did not affect what she

    had to do.

She had never been to his apartment before, and was surprised at how

untidy the sitting room was. She had thought him a man of neat habits.

Perhaps she was seeing him with clearer eyes, for suddenly he didn't seem

to be quite as handsome as before, but fitted into his seedy surroundings.

The drapes were drawn against the midday sun, and papers were scattered

over the floor. Through the open door she could see into his bedroom. The

bed was unmade, and there was a smell of dirty clothes in the air. He

hadn't shaved yet, and his shirt was unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up.

She could see his muscular arms, and he made no attempt to put on a

jacket, or disguise his body from her. His smile, which had made her heart

melt only a short few days ago, now seemed to be leering, and a little

contemptuous. She was very frightened of him. The air in the room was

close and stuffy, and when he asked why she had come, she thought she

might faint. She looked very pale, and he sat her on a chair and brought

her some brandy. She choked on the strong drink, and he laughed, and

assured her it was completely medicinal. She could not resist the feeling

that he was enjoying her discomfort.

    He came close to her, sat beside her, and stared at her. His look was

    unnerving, for she could see no trace of his usual kindness in it.

614 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

"I wrote to your father today," he said.

    The room spun about her, and Queen fell to the floor in a swoon.

    Digby picked her up, carried her into the bedroom, and laid her on the

    bed. He didn't bother to tidy up the covers. He didn't need neatness for

    what he planned to do.

    Queen was not insensible for long, and when she woke she was disoriented

    for a moment. Then she remembered where she was, and clutched at her

    clothes, but he had not molested her. He was not in the room, and she got

    up to leave. Perhaps he had gone out, and she could get away and come

    back some other time to do what had to be done, but then she thought of

    Alice, and lay back on the bed in despair.

    There was a tap on the door, and Digby came in, carrying a small bottle

    and a glass.

    "Wide awake?" he asked. She nodded, and wondered how long she had been

    asleep.

    "Only a few minutes," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed beside her.

    "Now, drink this. It will make you feel better. "

    He poured a little clear liquid from the bottle into the glass, and gave

    it to her to drink. Queen knew from the smell it was laudanum, and she

    didn't want it, but he insisted. Reluctantly, she swallowed a little of

    the drug. She was surprised that he took a sip of it too.

    He stroked her face and told her how pretty she was, and how naughty they

    were to be alone in his bedroom. His hand caressed her neck and her

    shoulders, and she tried to pull away, but she felt lazy, and wann, and

    nothing seemed very important. His voice was so soothing.

    "Relax," he crooned, "let the drug do its work. Don't you feel better?

    Don't you feel good? Don't you feel as if you're floating on a fluffy

    pink cloud?"

    Queen nodded slowly, for she did feel like that. He told her he took the

    opium to relieve the pain of his war wounds, but he had not been wounded

    in the war, and had been addicted to laudanum for some years. His voice

    had no sense or meaning to her; she was drifting in a timeless mist and

    nothing mattered anymore. It didn't matter when his hand moved down to

    her breasts and he fondled them with gentle but increasing

    QUEEN 615

urgency. It didn't matter when his hand moved down to her hips and down

her leg and pulled up her dress and lifted her petticoat. It didn't matter

when he kissed her full on the mouth and forced his tongue into her. It

didn't matter when she felt his hand move up inside her leg, or that she

could feel his hard manhood pressing against her. She was lost in an

erotic heaven, and his lulling voice, speaking of his love for her, was

the music of angels.

    But now something else began to happen. Perhaps she had not taken enough

    of the opium to surrender to him. The rough stubble on his chin grazed

    her cheek, and when he kissed her, he chewed on her lips, until it became

    unpleasant to her. He started to pull at her camiknickers, and when she

    tried to stop him, he became more forceful and pushed her back on the

    bed. The fear of his increasing violence battled with the drug, and she

    struggled against him, which made him laugh. He pinched her hard, and

    slapped her rump, and it hurt her. She cried out, and her cries of pain

    mingled with his cries of lust. He hit her again, and there was nothing

    playful in it, and she saw that same look in his eyes as when he hit the

    beggar. She tried to twist away from him, but he grabbed her by the arms

    and dragged her back to him. He ripped her petticoat and her knickers and

    forced himself between her legs, mauling her breasts, slapping her face,

    biting her shoulders. He wrenched at the buttons on his pants, and pushed

    her head down to his groin. When she screamed, he hit her again and told

    her to do it to prove that she loved him.

    He thrust himself into her mouth, and pushed her head down onto him.

    Queen gagged and gasped and pulled herself free, and screamed at him the

    one thing she thought might stop him.

"I's nigra!" she cried.

But he only laughed.

"You stupid slut," he said. "Do you think I didn't know?"

    She stared at him, unable to believe him. How could he have known'?

    "It was a game," he said. "A funny, delightful game. I wanted to see how

    far I could go before you told me. Did you really think I would marry a

    slut like you?"

    Her last defense was gone, and all she could do was try and get away. He

    might do anything to her now.

616 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

    "Now the game's over and you lost," he said. "So you have to pay."

    She tried to run from the bed, but he caught her, and hit her with all his

    might. She screamed and fell, blood running from her mouth. The sight of it

    brought a terrible new intensity to his already frightening urgency.

    "Bitch," he yelled, and hit her again. "Cheap, nigra bitch." He smiled an

    awful smile.

"You'll get what cheap nigra bitches deserve."

    He forced himself into her mouth again, thrust himself into her while she

    gagged and cried. He hit her rump, a dozen times, each time harder than

    before. When she tried to pull free from him again, he smashed his fist

    into her face. He tore open her bodice and bit her breasts until he drew

    blood.

    He twisted her over onto her face, and locked her arm behind her back with

    his hand until she thought he must pull it from its socket. With his other

    hand he pulled up her dress and forced himself into her from behind, like

    a dog. Yet he was careful. Even at the pitch of his frenzied desire, a

    greater passion ruled him, and at the time of his climax, he spilled his

    seed onto her and not into her, for there were enough nigger bastards in

    the world already.

    Pain was searing through her like lightning. She screamed, and begged God

    to save her, and eventually God could not bear to see her in so much agony,

    and delivered a merciful oblivion unto His tormented daughter.

    71

He kicked her out when he had finished with her, toward

dawn. Beaten and bloody, she staggered through the quiet

streets to her only sanctuary. Her mind refused to remember

what she had been through, and all she understood was the

pain of the present. Her clothes were tom, and she pulled her

coat tight around her, as if to cover her shame. Walking was

    QUEEN 617

difficult for her, and some of her wounds were still oozing blood.

    The stairs to Alice's apartment daunted her, and she sat for a while,

    halfway up, and tried to find some reserves of strength. But she was so

    close to home, so close to help, so close to someone who might understand

    what she had been through, that she pulled herself up, and went to the

    apartment.

    Alice had not slept. She was still fully clothed, staring at the empty

    fireplace. When Queen came into the room, Alic~ saw her sorry state, but

    felt little pity for her. Violence toward women was not uncommon in the

    world in which Alice had grown up, and what Queen had done was worse than

    any physical beating.

    "You told him," she said. It was not a question, but Queen nodded,

    puzzled by the coldness of her friend.

    "We're not going to be married," she whispered, and sank into a chair.

    She wanted Alice to come to her, hold her, caress her, and tell her that

    she was loved. Alice did something else instead. She went to the window

    and pulled back the drapes, to reveal a pane of shattered glass.

"How could you tell him?" she asked.

    Queen's head swam. She had done what Alice wanted. Why was she so angry?

    Alice picked up a small rock from the floor. A note was tied to it, and

    she gave it to Queen to read.

    Some words had been roughly penciled on the note: "All nigra bitches will

    die."

    Alice shrugged. "Him, or his friends," she said. "They'll all know by

    now. "

    She turned on Queen in anger. "How could you tell him? You knew you were

    playing with fire. How many warnings did you need?"

    Queen hung on desperately to the only truth she knew. "He raped me," she

    whispered piteously.

    It made no difference to Alice. Rape was part of a woman's destiny to

    her. Survival was all, and Queen had put their survival at perilous risk.

    Word would spread like wildfire, a couple of mulattas successfully

    passing as white, and the consequences of that public knowledge were too

    hideous to imagine. Queen's whispered admission of her blood was a

618 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

hurricane that tore down Alice's elaborate house of cards. She guessed

what had happened.

    "And you told him, to try to save your precious virginity?" Alice said,

    in amazement. She had no concept of what virginity might mean to a girt

    like Queen.

    Queen nodded miserably. "It was all I had," she said. And then anger,

    ignited by Digby's cruelty and Alice's cynicism, exploded inside her.

    "And no one got the right to take it away from me, without my say-so,"

    she blazed. "No matter what the cost!"

    The little tirade cost her dearly, sapping the last of her energy. She

    slumped in the chair again, caressing her beaten body. Her mind was numb

    as she listened to Alice's plans. Queen would have to leave, get out, get

    away, somewhere, anywhere, Huntsville, Savannah, North, to the devil, for

    all Alice cared. Alice would lie low, and wait until any hue and cry had

    died down. She would spread the word that she had kicked Queen out when

    she discovered she was mulatta. Her admirers would help, and perhaps she

    might survive. She set about writing a note to George, ignoring Queen,

    as if she had already gone.

Queen did not even beg to stay. She knew it was useless, and she didn't

want to remain in the same town as Digby. Or even Alice. She cleaned

herself up as best she could, and tended her injuries. She had no plan for

the future and dared not remember the past. There was only what she had

to do now. She wanted to take nothing of Alice's with her, she wanted to

leave as she had arrived, but simple public decency demanded at least a

change of clothes, and she put another cheap dress into a bag. She didn't

bother saying good-bye to Alice, for she knew there would be no response.

    She avoided the center of town because she didn't want to run into anyone

    who knew her, but made her way to the river. She stood on the bridge

    looking down at the Tennessee River, and thought how simple it would be

    to end it all, to let herself slip, fall into the fast, flowing water and