What Needed To Be Done

I waited in the drawing room. The house was unforgivingly quiet, and I couldn't hear the children. He must've sent them to Lizzie's. I wasn't sure what to expect. But what had to be done was done, and he could change nothing, not even when he was playing God. In a twisted way, I felt victorious. He would be small, defenseless, and helpless for a moment. He would feel how I felt. Though, in truth, he'd feel nothing. Nothing at all.

It wasn't his problem.

-----

He closed the door behind him. I watched him pacing up to me. He stood in front of me for a few seconds before sitting on the couch and lighting a cigarette.

"Why?" He asked and leaned forward. His elbows were on his knees. I couldn't read him. The wrinkles gathered on his forehead as he looked up. Instead of anger or disappointment, he seemed more perplexed than anything else.

"I suppose Lizzie told you already," I said calmly.

"She did." He took a drag.

"Then I also suppose she's told Laurie too," I said. He gestured to me to take a seat. I shook my head and insisted on standing.

"I told her not to," he spoke in a low, husky voice that almost sounded like a coarse whisper. "I wouldn't want him to bust through my door and cause a scene."

"You're being exceptionally considerate," I said sarcastically.

"I'm sure Lizzie will tell him if you don't get to him soon." He blew the smoke. After a brief pause, he continued: "You know I don't ever want to be involved in your mess, and I've always turned a blind eye."

"And I'd appreciate it if you continue to do so. It makes both of our lives easier."

"However, Anne," he pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes while his tone remained unchanged, "why did you do that without telling me first?"

"What would change if I did tell you?" I snickered. "Nothing, Thomas, nothing at all."

"You're being ridiculous." I could tell he was getting upset, yet his voice stayed unruffled. "You have no right to make that sort of decision by yourself."

"But what would change?" I raised my hands with frustration. "Would you tell me to keep your brother's child? Can you afford that kind of scandal to get out?"

"I would raise him like my own." He stood up. He was close to me now, and his cigarette was still burning. "And no one will question it."

"Sure you would." I couldn't help but jeer. "You're only saying that because you think claiming to have a child with me can solidify your position in the county. Look at Thomas Murphy, the man above the law, who married and has a half-breed child with that Mongol whore."

"Don't you ever talk to me this way, and don't you talk about yourself like that." His hand was in the air, and I thought he'd hit me. I was ready for him to hit me, but he didn't. Instead, his hand clenched into a fist, lingered next to my face briefly, then loosened. He wiped across his upper lip, collected his thoughts, and continued in his usual tone: "Listen and listen carefully. You are mine. I own you. Without me, you are nothing. You will never go behind my back and make an impetuous decision again."

----- 

It had gotten out of hand. It had been that way for a long while, for it was doomed from the start.

Though I tried to pray, my mind couldn't be cleared. Thomas left. I didn't care where he had gone to. If I were cleverer, I'd lower my head and beg for forgiveness and mercy from Laurie. But all I could think of when I prayed was him. For the longest time, he slipped through the cracks of my mind. Recently, the thought of him began to sneak back in slowly. Like a predator, the idea of him had been quietly stalking the prey before a sudden attack. 

I wondered if there was white in his blond hair, if his cheeks had sunken like mine, and if he still had that nervous half-smile whenever he spoke, eloquent as ever. I pictured him moving to New York, finally making a fortune, and leaving his past behind. Had he been taking care of him? Had he fallen in love with someone else? A tall woman with finger waves.

-----

Past midnight I lay awake in my bed. I heard footsteps stumbling down the hall, and a woman's giggle echoed with Thomas' gentle voice. 

I knew that was Mildred Brown, his mistress who shared an uncanny resemblance with the first Mrs. Murphy.

I thought of the day he married me. Before standing at the altar and acting joyous, I saw the threatened cleric sitting in the corner with his head lowered. He was shaking, confessing how he had sinned by permitting defiance of the law in his church, begging for a pardon from above.

Laurie was there that day. He had no choice but to smile.

"I, Thomas, take you, Anne, as my lawful wife," he said. With the word lawful, he quickly glanced at his brother. He was making a statement. And when that statement was finished being conveyed, Thomas Murphy had finally achieved what he wanted. 

Laurie asked me for a dance at the reception. To my surprise, Thomas didn't bother to stop him, to stop us.Perhaps the liquor in him gave him a brief glimmer of remorse. As we spun in Swing, he said he was sorry. He was sorry that he couldn't be a man like his brother and that I had to marry for business. He said he loved me dearly and would never stop loving me. He was tipsy, and his eyes were red from either the liquor or the emotions of a sensitive young man.

-----

Early in the morning, I was awakened by the phone ringing. Half sat up in bed, I answered the call.

"Good morning, Mrs. Murphy," said the caller, "your catalog order has arrived. Would you like to pick it up? A gift was included as well."

Lindley. I could imagine him smoking his pipe, pretending to be a salesman. He'd be a horrible one, I thought. He knew what to do when he was told to call me. The eavesdropping ones didn't usually work for me.

"I'll be there at nine," I said.

-----

"Are you all right?" Wesley asked when I walked out of the door. He was summoned. He had to be involved now, for both of our sakes.

"Yes," I said firmly as I got into the car. "Are you all right?"

"That maid of your sister-in-law's, she's very loyal." He started the car. The worry in his dark eyes didn't fade away with my answer, though he chose not to inquire further. "It took a while to get her talking."

"What did she say?"

"Nothing you haven't figured out already. She stole the poison from Lizzie and gave it to Mary." He glanced at me. "She said that was what you asked her to do."

"I wasn't expecting her to say anything else." I curled my lip. 

"You can tell me the truth." He was stern. "Was it you?"

"Of course not."

"Don't get into unnecessary trouble." He sighed and warned. "Don't do things that can make people frame you easily."

-----

"Get out," he said to Sue in Mandarin. There were certain expressions that I had learned to recognize. Words and phrases like whore, honor, get out and shut up.

Sue replied with something I couldn't quite make out while holding tightly onto my hand. He frowned and repeated sternly: "Get out."

Sue swallowed. She nodded and looked at me with terror in her eyes. Without saying anything else, she let go of my hand and left the room.

He stood next to the head of the bed with his hands behind his back. I lifted my head so I could see him. Struggling, I tried to sit up.

"Lie still," he switched to English. He could speak English rather well. I heard from the other girls that he could also speak Russian fluently. Aside from his good looks, the girls liked talking – or more precisely – gossiping about his past. "I see that you got into trouble again. Mr. Wang said you were being disobedient."

"Mr. Lee, I…"

"You must listen to Mr. Wang, especially when I'm not around," he said harshly with a straight face, "unless you'd rather be beaten. Or worse."

"But he wants me to…."

"When my older sister was your age, she was quite the trouble to our mother as well," he continued. His tone softened, and he stepped slightly closer. "But she always knew right from wrong."

"May I ask where's your sister now, Mr. Lee?" I asked. For reasons unknown, I was never afraid of him. He wasn't particularly kind, yet he was never cold or cruel to me like he was with the others. It was only later had I learned that at that time, he felt nothing more than a pure sense of empathy, for he saw a reflection of his life in mine.

"Both she and my mother died from the Manchurian plague in 1911," he said dryly, not one bit of emotion to be traced.

"I'm so sorry." I wasn't prepared to hear such an answer. And I certainly didn't expect him to be this open with me.

"Thank you," he said. "Nevertheless, you can be at ease. I remember what I promised you when you first came here. I'll have a word with Mr. Wang, so he won't tell you to take clients until you're old enough."

"You're very kind, Mr. Lee," I said sincerely. He nodded.

I watched him as he walked to the door. He opened it and immediately shut it again. With his back to me, he said: "And about that rumor, I want you to know it's true. I'd rather you hear it directly from me."