Dear Diary, I must confess: I love Ethan! But Zeena has decreed that I leave her house. Where shall I go? I have no money, and no one will take in a homeless young girl whose only skills are piano, singing, and dancing. How will I find a job? This world is unwelcoming to those without degrees, and as a woman, I have never had the chance to attend college. I so wish Ethan and I could run away together, but he could never abandon Zeena like that. She is in no fit state to run the farm by herself, and anyway, she is a poor farmer’s wife. She has no money besides what little Ethan manages to make off of his crops…

I miss my old home, where I had no cares or worries except what dress I was going to wear that evening and whom I would dance with at the next gathering. My father would buy me the latest fashions, and my friends and I could spend the whole day giggling and running about. But now, I must work my hands raw at the dishes and push feebly at the water pump until a stream trickles down into my bucket. My back aches from the time I spend bent over with a broom in my hand, cleaning this house that seems to develop dust as I clean it. Worst of all, on my one night out, I am the only girl without a fashionable new dress to show off: I cannot afford the latest styles, so I am forced to wear the one “fancy” dress I kept from my previous life. But now, I have a new existence, and Ethan is my new protector. How could my father have left me like this? I fell from wealth and care to housework and a simple life. I’ve never had to deal with fending for myself because I always thought a man would hold my hand through life. Ethan says we could run away! But where will we go? More importantly, how would we survive? I was never taught any home-making skills, because my

father thought they would ruin my “soft, pretty hands.” He only wanted me to be ready for marriage; no one ever thought I would live through such an ordeal. Ethan would resent me within a year; I have neither useful household skills nor any particular knack for a marketable skill like sewing or cooking. I could only find employment as perhaps a pianist, and even then, who would hire a woman when men almost as qualified would be available? If only I had been left more than the fifty dollars, we may have had a chance. But I am a victim to the greed of the rest of my family; it is not my fault he “stole” money from them, and honestly, I don’t believe that one bit. Just because I am a young girl, I have been robbed of everything, and now, I shall be robbed of my love! (Wharton) *Watermark: Dancing Beastie