That one weird maid. Chapter 3.

 

>You're in a playground. You hold a ball with you. You scan around looking for someone to play with. The place is filled with kids your age, and even though you've been coming here the past month, you still haven't made one friend. You take a deep breath and try to talk to the one that seems to be the most popular kid around here. Over by the slides, the one with the red shirt. He seems to surrounded by the others while he was explaining how to play the game he's saying. You decide to approach.

"Hello. Can I join you?"

>He notices you and immediately replies.

"No! We don't want no rich brat joining us!"

"You don't have to be like that, I have a ball we could share, here." You say as you hand him the ball.

>He swats it out of your hand.

"We don't need your fancy toys!" He screams as he swats the ball from your hand. "Right guys?" He turns to the other kids.

"Yeah! Go away" "We don't need you" "Rich snob!" They yell.

"But I'm not a bad person!" You say as you take a few steps closer.

"Yes you are!" The popular kid screams.

>He pushes you to the ground.

"Get him!"

>All the other kids rush on you and hit you with kicks and punches while you're down. You crawl up into a ball to make the pain not hurt as much. You're now crying.

 

>Your maid suddenly from the outside of the playground who was out busy having a chat with the other mothers now noticed you. She rushes up to you.

"Go away, you brats!" She says as she chases them away. The other kids flee and leave you there, in a sobbing ball of mess. Your maid helps you up.

"There there, are you alright?" Your still crying from all that. Parts of you are bleeding and brusied. And you're still there crying.

"There there" She says as she gives you a hug. She strokes your hair back and forth. Her old lady hands run on your head gently. It calms you. She takes you back to the car. And she takes you home earlier than usual. She takes your hand and walks you side by side toward your father's room.

 

>You wake up, silently.

 

>You don't move for a while. You can still remember bits and parts of your dream. You sit up on your bed and stay that way for a while.

 

>It's Saturday today. You have also planned to visit your dad today, though to be honest, your not exactly ecstatic on that. You check the clock, it's 8:46 am. You sigh. You don't have the appetite this morning. You unwillingly get out of bed and head downstairs for breakfast.

 

>You see that weird maid below.

"Good morning sir. Shall I get breakfast started?" She says promptly. Always prim and proper. How does she do it.

"Actually, can I have just a bowl of cereal today?" You say meekly. "I'm not exactly hungry."

>She gives a curious look.

"...Sir, if I may point out that breakf-"

"Just a bowl of cereal." You cut her off."Please?"

>She stares.

"If sir insists, pleasae wait in the dining area while I have it prepared." She gives a slight nod and heads off.

>You comply and takes a seat in on of the chairs.

 

>She returns and carrying a bowl, she places it on your plate.

"Here you are sir."

>You stare at it. A generous amount of cornflakes floating on chilled milk. You take a spoonful. It was nothing fancy. But it feels sad a bit. It feels a bit nostalgic. You chow down. Your maid just stands in attention behind you all the while.

 

"Does sir have something planned for today?" She asks.

>You finish drinking all the milk from the bowl. You ponder a bit.

"...I was planning to visit dad today?"

>You don't want to make a big deal out of it. And you're not exactly looking forward to it.

"Sir's father? Sir did speak a bit about him yesterday."

>You remember.

"Sir please tell me beforehand the moment of your departure today."

>You look puzzled. I guess it's no harm.

"Alright? I'll just be taking and leave in an hour or so, I guess."

"Acknowledged" She gives a slight nod and leaves the room. Huh.

 

>You head for the bathroom. Half an hour passes.

 

>You get dressed in casual but smart looking clothes. You were never picky about appearance but things change when it involved your dad.

 

Always wanting to look neat and respectable in front of him. You spend a deal of time fussing about your face and your hair. You wear the finest perfume you have. You double check on your appearance and you decide it's proper enough.

 

>You head down and see your maid. She's wearing a light dress, a grey cardiggan and the usual dim purple scarf. Even with simple clothes, she looks stunning. She's carrying a basket with her. You have a bad feeling about this.

 

"You're dressed that way because....?" You already know, you just want to make sure.

"I will be accompanying sir on today's excursion." She says rather airingly.

"And you decided that because...?"

"Because there's nothing to do here." She says with a straight face.

>At least she's honest. You sigh. You really want this to be an alone thing. You don't like people meddling your life. But you have a feeling that she's not going to stand down. You really don't want to have an argument today after what happened yesterday. Still she's been rather helpful lately. You guess it's alright. You sigh again.

"Alright fine." You give in.

>She looks rather surprised.

"Well that went quite easily." She says with a faint smile.

"...I just don't want an argument today"

>She smirks.

"Fair enough."

 

>You both head to the car. You drive. The trip is quite quiet. Though she's not the talkative type either it feels strange having two people in a car with no sound at all. The radio is off. You don't know why but you prefer it that way. Red light. You glance over to her. She's wearing that melancholic look while staring out the window, classic deep thought moments, all that's lacking is the raindrops pattering on the window glass. A melancholic look fits her image quite well. She seems more captivating with it on. Well, you'd prefer it over her pissed-as-hell look. She notices your glance and faces you.

"Is something the matter?" She asks.

>You feel flustered.

"Ah, no. It's nothing."

>You return facing forward in view of the road. Ding. Greenlight. You resume driving. A few minutes passes by. The scenery feels much gloomier as you near your destination. Well, it seems that way to you. Always been.

 

"...I never had a good relationship with him." You speak.

>You stare at the blue sky as you do. The clouds drift lazily by hindering the sunlight partially.

"He was always too busy with work. Never had time for me as a kid." A flock of birds fly across your view. "Grew apart all the while growing up. Entered high school, was not there. Entered college still was not there. Don;t get me wrong, he took care of the expenses and everything but.... you know what I'm getting at. The man didn't even know the course I was taking."

>You can feel her gaze on you.

"One day, after a trip to the doctor due to a few instances of him passing out, it was found that he has leukemia. It's... cancer for the blood, the doctor explained to him." You sigh a bit. "He had a change of heart after that, tried to make amends, to his colleagues, his relatives, me. All the people who he had neglected. The works. You know how it is with dying people. At that time, I felt like it was a little too late."

 

>You focus your gaze on a particularly slow cloud.

"Maybe it really is."

>You pause awhile.

"Anyway, it's not like I didn't want to patch things up myself. Gave up on the course halfway when he said he made sure that I receive his seat in the company. Guess it was supposedly an act of kindness on his part."

>You take a nearby pebble and chuck it aimlessly.

"Never even wanted it. Though, I didn't tell him that. Took up business instead just to make sure I don;t become a burden to the company. He didn't even force me, purely my choice. Not one I'm keen of, mind you, but still, my choice. Tried to hang out with me. Fishing. Movies. You know. It felt forced. I'm pretty sure he felt it too. Never really knew each other to hold a proper conversation. It was just a case of a little too late."

>You pause.

"He decided to quit on the therapy, said it was painful. You can see it on his face. On his quickly aging body. On his head was now void of hair. Said he was going to spend his last days enjoying life. After it was apparent that him and I aren't going along, he did things by himself, did not force me to join. I did not even bother asking him to take me along."

>You pause.

"He died, one day. On his bed. I was was in the middle of class that time. Got a message from one of the maids as to what happened. The message felt empty. Even finished the current lecture before I skipped all the others left for the day and headed home."

>You choke.

"I declined to give the eulogy on his funeral. His closest friend did. It feels sad but, somehow, I did not even shed a tear, now that I look back. Fastforward to graduation. Got the position in the company. That's it."

>You look at the sky and wonder how things could have been better. If you somehow managed to patch things up with your dad.

 

"My father was an alcoholic. Been that way since the man lost his job in the factory." She said breaking the silence.

>You look at her. She's melancholic.

 

"Fell into gambling when the alcohol has reached its peak. Mother had to make ends meet. Taking double shifts for any work she could scrounge up just so we have money to pay for expenses, preferably for food and my schooling. Father would hog a good portion of it though, and if the night's gambling was particularly unfruitful, he would beat up my mother. I would hide in the attic during those times. Found an antique cello there along with a few scores. I would play it silently when my father was particularly violent. He didn't hurt me though, only my mother. I remember he said on his drunken ramblings how he always wanted a son and not a daughter."

 

>A gentle breeze blows past. Her long silken hair dances easily on the passing draft.

 

"Had to do chores, cooking cleaning to compensate for when mother is too pained to do any work. I did this until I finally finished high school. One night when the beatings were particularly violent, as I am in the attic, there came a loud clattering of furniture below. It was particularly more intense than any other time when they fought. I went down carefully. Saw my father lying on the ground with a knife sticking on his back. My mother was there, crying. Her hands were covered in blood. She saw me and called out to me. Said to pack my things, all of it. She then rushed upstairs to her her and brought back with her a small fat purse. She handed it to me saying to get out and never return, find a job, live my life. I was too shocked at that time to say otherwise."

 

>You briefly notice a drop stream down from her cheek. She quickly wipes it. She checks up on you. You pretend you did not notice.

"I just followed what she said. I took my things, clothes, books, the like. Decided to take the cello with me. Mother saw me out the door. She was crying but she made smile. Then she hurried my out. I wandered from place to place, looking for a job and a place to work. Things got better for me after I left, surprisingly. Got to work as a maid. It had a place to sleep and my experience with chores helped. The pay was also rather decent. But it did not feel quite right. Had quit after around a month. Same thing happened. Wandered around looking for work. Eventually became a maid again. Then quit again. I do not know why. Did the same thing for two years. Now I am here."

 

>She turns to you and gives you a weak smile. You respond with and even weaker one. You lean back and rest your head on the oak tree. You turn to the sky and view each passing cloud. You peer down to the world below. There are a few people here, walking around, visiting gravestones. This place always feels peaceful. Away from the hustle and bustle of the city.

 

"I must apologize earlier. About my motive for wanting to accompany you here." She says.

>You face her.

 

"I was curious at your relationship with your father. Judging from the story yesterday, your words implied you did not like the man. But your tone would say otherwise. Forgive me, perhaps I was just too engrossed with the idea of a decent father. Well, much more decent than my own."

".....It's fine." You say briefly.

"But I appreciate it." She continues. You wear a questioning look. "You listening to my story, I mean."

>She gives a wry smile.

"It feels... somewhat relieving having to get that off my chest. Or at least have someone listen through it."

"... Yeah... I feel the same."

>She gives you a smile.

 

>She's right though. It feels better after you have talked it off. Still aches though. But you contemplate how you have had it easy, even if your dad was a prick. How she had a rougher time than you. It's like you don't deserve her.

 

>You feel a nudge on your arm. It's a sandwich. She's holding it to you. Seems like the ones she brought in the picnic basket. Heh. It's like she always knows when you're hungry. You take it. She gets one for herself. You take a bite. You act like it's not a big deal but it is really delicious. Bacon lettuce tomato seasoned with spices and a hint of lime, applied a small amount of what tastes like dijon mustard. It's really good. You two spend the afternoon there on that tree, quietly.

 

>The sun is setting and you both decide to leave. You decide to take her to a restaurant for dinner, your treat. She refuse at first saying how she could cook at home. She agrees though after a while of convincing. The food served was not as succulent as the ones she prepares but they're still quite good. You two spent the dinner without much conversation. You two really did not feel like talking much. Both of you weren't in the mood.

 

>You head for home. And into your room. You recall your childhood. Your father. Your life from before. Then you recall your aspirations. You guess it all seems so distant now. You close your eyes and drift off to sleep.