It was just a fucking swim. A rash decision that landed me in trouble with the Neumanns because I needed to feel close to her today. It has been twenty minutes since Mr. Neumann said we needed to talk. Everyone knows that the “we need to talk” spiel never pans out, so I’m probably about to get fired. A lone tear runs down my cheek as I look up at the clock on my wall. It’s now a few minutes past six. Each tick makes me jumpier than the one before as my mind wanders back to the moment I was caught swimming laps in the pool a half an hour ago.
I’ve always waited until I was sure that everyone was asleep. Midnight swims were my time to be free to think about her. Today, I didn’t wait. The house was quiet, so I reasonably assumed that the Neumanns were out. They’ve never said that their pool was off-limits, but to be fair, I’ve never asked. Today marks the one-year anniversary of my mother’s death. The day she took her own life. The day I found her in the bed next to me not breathing. I hate that I remember her this way—as the coward who left me alone. My daily swim helps me remember her before the ugliness. She taught me to swim when I was seven in the very pool I was caught in today. It was our thing. Each night when she was finished with all her work, we would sneak out to the pool for our mother-daughter time.
I didn’t attend traditional school, so I didn’t have a strict bedtime. I was usually in bed before eleven, but she never wanted to miss spending quality time with me because of her job. My homeschooling took place while Mom worked during the day. She’d set me up with my lessons for the day in the kitchen and the entire house staff checked on me in rotations throughout the day. They were all part of my learning. Thomas, the house manager, and Bertha, the cook, were my favorites. They would help make a game out of my lessons and created ways to help me remember what I’d learned.
A turn of my doorknob has me sitting straighter on my bed, halting my trip down memory lane. I pull the towel I’m still wearing closer around my body. I hadn’t dared to move from this spot since I was sent here to wait. Thomas comes through the door, and my shoulders drop in relief. Even with all his responsibilities as the house manager, he’s stepped up the most to make sure I was taken care of. He’s the one who negotiated with the Neumanns for me to take over my mother’s job after she died. They wanted someone with more experience, but he ensured them that I could handle it.
“Brennan, why haven’t you changed into some dry clothes?” he asks in confusion.
“Well, because I didn’t know when Mr. Neumann would be in here to talk to me. I didn’t want to be in the middle of getting dressed when he came,” I explain.
That’s only partly true. It’s mostly because I have been scared shitless of what he was coming to tell me and couldn’t move from this spot.
“He’s not coming, Bren. He sent me.” The sadness reflected in his eyes confirms my prediction. He’s sent Thomas in here to let me go, and the irony is not lost on me. The one person who I have come to trust the most will be the one to kick me out on my ass.
“Don’t say it, Thomas. Please don’t! I’ll go.” My stupid tears are really flowing now. I clench the towel tighter around me as if that could trap the wind that has just been knocked from my sails.
“I’m sorry. This is all Mrs. Neumann’s idea. She didn’t like that you were in the pool in a skimpy bathing suit. You’re the only female left here, Bren, and she thinks you’re a distraction,” he says apologetically. “I don’t agree with her assessment, but my hands are tied.”
Mrs. Neumann is the one who found me in the pool, and she yelled at me to get out that instant. The smoldering disdain in her eyes was unprecedented. She stood there at the edge of the pool as I got out then threw me a towel big enough to get lost in. Her gaze held mine for the briefest of seconds before she turned on her heel and stormed off. That was it. No explanation or further chastisement. I waited until she had completely disappeared into the house before I escaped to my room, but Mr. Neumann was waiting for me as I passed the kitchen.
He stood near the sink with a grip so tight on the counter his knuckles were mottled white. His affect gave nothing away unlike Mrs. Neumann’s. He simply stated that he needed to speak with me and would meet me in my room. Only he never came. He sent Thomas to get rid of me because his wife thought I was a distraction. It doesn’t make sense. Yes, my one piece is a little on the small side. It’s the last one my mother had bought for me before I developed these breasts that have taken over my body. I don’t have much when it comes to clothes. Where in the heck would I wear them? I never venture away from the mansion, and I don’t have friends bedsides my work family here. I wasn’t trying to be a tramp or be inappropriate. If anything, I’m the complete opposite. I’m not a distraction, dammit. I don’t want her husband or any of the men here. These people look out for me, and now, I’m being sent away from the only family I know.
“I found you another home,” Thomas says, interrupting my thoughts.
“What do you mean found me another home? This is my home. No other place will be home,” I rebut.
“Home, as in another place to work. With us is your real home,” he clarifies. “I made a call to a longtime friend of mine who is also a house manager. His name is Mr. Davenport, and he was able to get you a job. I’ve shared this information with the Neumanns, and they’ve booked you a flight to Florida tomorrow morning.”
I don’t like this one bit. And across the globe, for Christ’s sake. The idea of starting over somewhere else and meeting new people terrifies me. Hell, I’ve never even been on a plane. The Neumann’s mansion has been my reality from birth. The older I got, the more I realized just how different my mom, the house staff, and I were. We didn’t fit in with the privileged. When I turned twelve, my mother began to teach me how to clean and maintain a house—tools of the trade per se. From there, I learned other jobs such as cooking and gardening. My mother wanted me to be well rounded for when I found a husband because she didn’t want this servant life for me forever. I remember thinking her reasoning was sexist and absurd, but I wanted to earn my keep, so I soaked up the knowledge anyway. It made me feel good to be able to lighten her workload with the skills she taught me.
Once, during my ninth grade year of high school, I tried to fit in the outside world, and I hated it. I only lasted a week in the “fancy private school for the rich” that Mr. Neumann got me into. To say I was an outcast would be an understatement. I never want to experience that feeling again—the not fitting in. I don’t want to be the new girl again. But the truth is, I have no choice. I have some money that my mother left for me, and money that I’ve earned from my job with the Neumanns, but I don’t have the resources to get a place on my own just yet. I don’t have any life skills or job skills aside from being a maid. This is my reality. I am the help.
“Fine. Thank you, Thomas. I’ll pack my stuff. I still don’t understand why I didn’t get a warning. Why is it that after all the loyalty my mother gave to this place, they can be so quick to just get rid of me?”
Thomas has no explanations or answers to that riddle, and I know this isn’t his fault. I restrain myself from asking more about this new job because it doesn’t matter. I don’t need details that I’ll just be anxious over—more than I am already. He takes the hint that I want to be left alone when I turn my back to him. He apologizes one more time, pats me on the shoulder, and exits the room. I wipe my eyes with the side of my hands. They don’t deserve my tears. I know this is more of Mrs. Neumann’s decision than her husband’s, but I don’t care. I feel betrayed for my mother. She’s gone—a year today—and nobody has even thought about that. Nobody questioned why I was in the pool to begin with even though taking an afternoon swim was so out of character for me. And now I will lose our special place—our special memory forever. That saddens me the most.