by L. W. Clark
“Alyssa!!!”
I jumped up quickly. I was all dreamy when suddenly I thought I heard someone scream my name loudly. My heart, serene a second ago, was now pounding so hard I could hear it in my head.
What the hell was that? Am I hallucinating?
“Alyssa!!!”
I’m not hallucinating. That came from the bedroom upstairs. It’s Lora. Now I’m in trouble. I know something isn’t right.
I slowly moved towards the stairs. I heard her call my name once again, not from the bedroom but from the hallway upstairs. She sounded desperate. In one second, so many thoughts passed by so fast, like bullets whizzing by.
“Yes Lora?” I asked, my voice shaking.
“Come on up here!”
She sounds like someone else. I hope it’s her and not some stranger.
I slowly climbed the stairs. My knees were shaking as my heart accelerated. I couldn’t control all this trembling.
I feel like I’m falling apart.
I went into her room, my head down. I didn’t want to look her in the eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“No, no. It’s just that I’m in a hurry and I kept calling you. So?”
“No … I mean,” and I looked up at her.
She was standing in front of me in a bra and panties, thigh high stockings and high heels, holding a different dress in each hand as she moved them up and down. Her eyes wide, eyebrows raised, waiting for an answer.
But I barely touched her clothes! Maybe I touched them lightly to feel the fabric, but I never took them down to try them on. Why did she think I did that? What about the shoeboxes? Did she notice them? I don’t know what to say to her.
I looked at her in silent, wide-eyed wonder.
“So, what do you think?” she asked.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“What do you think about these two? Should I wear this, or this? I can’t decide which one to wear with these high heels.”
It took me a while to get it, then I got it, and I felt like an idiot. I was so relieved as I shook my head slowly.
“Are you OK?” she asked.
I want to hug her. The Lora I knew before is back. She’s that fresh looking, well-groomed, but still a little bit weird, Lora.
“Come with me to the closet,” she said.
I know that place. Just when I thought my paranoia was gone, it’s back again. Why did she want to take me in there?
I followed her. She approached the shoeboxes, stood staring for a while, then finally grabbed one of them. She took out the pair of shoes and pointed to me.
“What do you think?” she asked. “Maybe these are better with this dress?”
“Yes, yes, nice, very nice,” I said.
Is she trying to tell me I know you know?
As she bent down to reach the bottom boxes I said I needed to go to the bathroom. But instead of the bathroom I went to bed and crashed. I didn’t care about the guns, what she was wearing or what they might do to me. I just dove into bed in my clothes and didn’t move all night. The jet lag and my overactive imagination had caught up with me.
I woke up the next day as I heard her on the phone. I jumped out of the bed so fast that I got dizzy. She came downstairs and walked right by me, like nothing happened the night before. She gave me the same cold, frozen fish facial expression that I saw when we first met. Maybe she was hungover, who knows.
Lora went to the kitchen with her coffee mug. She didn’t even offer me a cup of coffee as we sat down at the table to make some phone calls for my job. I was dying for coffee so I helped myself. I wanted to ask her how her night was, but she had that morning “don’t even think about talking to me until I have my coffee” look, so I stayed quiet. She made some calls to a few agencies. In between calls, she talked to herself, but I had no idea what she was saying. She didn’t tell me what she was doing, and it was all rather awkward.
Did I do something wrong? Is she mad at me for something? Is she mad that I left her closet and never came back? This is crazy. Why do I always think I did something wrong? She’s probably just moody or cranky and doesn’t want to communicate. It’s not like I would understand her anyway. Maybe she doesn’t want to do any of this, and she’s frustrated. She’s mumbling to herself again. This is getting weird.
One of the agents Lora called said she had several job opportunities working as a babysitter. She asked Lora a few questions about me. She lied to the agent that I had experience with kids.
“Does she speak English?” the agent asked.
“She does, a little bit,” Lora said. “I think it’s enough, especially for little kids.”
“Ok, let’s see. I want to meet her in person so we can talk more.”
“How about today? I’m busy the rest of the week.”
“Sure. Bring her here at 1:00 this afternoon.”
‘Go get dressed,” Lora said to me. “We leave in an hour.”
I got so excited. I wanted to start work as soon as I could to pay off my loans. I also wanted to leave this depressing and weird place. It’s so uncomfortable staying in someone’s house, doing nothing. I couldn’t go anywhere without them driving. There weren’t even sidewalks. When I looked out the window, there was just grass. It was like being in a high-end jail. And after the whole wardrobe review and the crazy “gun in a shoebox” thing I just wanted to get the hell out of there.
Since I was going to an interview I decided to dress in conservative chic. I wore a shapely, light wool fabric, solid gray dress that went to the bottom of the knee, with skin color tights, and my only pair of black, low-heeled shoes. I refreshed my nails with a light pinkish color. I put some makeup on with light pinkish-red lipstick and made a ponytail for a simple look. I was ready in 20 minutes. I sat on the couch and flipped through magazines I couldn’t read while I waited. Lora came downstairs and looked at me.
“You look good,” she said.
I feel much better when she says something nice to me. Maybe she’s in a better mood. That’s a good thing. She does have a good fashion sense and with many clothes and a seemingly unlimited number of shoes.
“Thank you,” I said.
We got in the car. It felt so good to be outside. I felt energized. I rolled down the window to breathe in the fresh air, but she told me to close it. Seemed like I was still in jail, but a different one. She drove without talking. The radio played but you could hardly hear it.
It was a nice sunny day. It was my first trip outside the house, and I wanted to see something. Something that I never saw before, that would astonish me. I thought everything would be different here. The roads, lights, cars, trees, even people. I felt like a little kid who was going to get some candy or ice cream. I wanted to see some major attractions, so I could call home and astound them.
So far it was just one big, long road, with a lot of cars. It was a two-hour drive to the agency, which was a long time for me. I came from a small city where everything was so close, it took no more than ten to fifteen minutes to get anywhere. It felt like we were going on vacation to another country. She drove fast and confidently, like an experienced driver. She probably drove better than she walked. I already missed walking around the city streets. Sitting in the car for a long time wasn’t my thing.
As we approached the office, she searched for parking close to the building. I hoped she wouldn’t find a spot so we could walk a little. But she got lucky and found her spot, and that was fine. Whatever made her happy. I just didn’t want to hear her mumbling again.
“Hello Julia, I’m Lora and this is Alyssa.”
“Oh, hi. Please have a seat,” Julia said. “I’ll be with you in a minute. I just have to finish up this call.”
This is a really small room. Just one desk and these two chairs in front. I’m guessing from the look of her desk, she’s been working here for a long time. She has so many pictures in different kinds of frames. Her phone looks like it’s a hundred years old, it’s so bulky, with a rotary d
ial. Look at the mess on her desk. Newspapers, pads and pens everywhere. She looks like she should be retired. Maybe she likes to work. Or maybe she doesn’t like to be at home. She does have a pleasant look. She seems to be checking me out through those tiny round glasses.
“How can I help you?” she asked as she hung up the phone.
Lora briefly explained my situation as Julia listened and glanced my way now and then.
“Ok, we can find her a job. I have plenty of opportunities. Alyssa, Lora said you understand some English?”
“Yes, a little,” I said.
“Excellent. How old are you? How much education have you had?”
We mechanically went back and forth with simple questions and answers.
“Excellent. You do speak English rather well for a beginner,” she said with a smile.
Really? I speak English well? I’m shocked that my English is acceptable for a job that could easily be filled by an American.
“Ok, excellent,” Julia said.
Apparently everything is excellent.
“The only thing is your age.”
Well, almost everything.
“You’re young,” Julia said, “and sometimes families don’t like to hire someone your age. But we can work on that.”
Her facial expression looks just like one of my old teachers back in high school. That probing look, trying to read my mind for some hidden problem. She even sounds like a teacher. Caring but suspicious.
“Just a few things to remember,” she said. “When you go to the interview, don’t wear makeup or nail polish. And wear something simple.”
Really? I’m not supposed to look my best? I would think every family would want their kids to be around someone who looks good. I guess not. Why do I have to look plain? Even Lora looks surprised. But she’s not saying anything.
“Most of the time the wife does the interviewing,” Julia said, “and they won’t hire someone young and attractive around the house. They don’t want any competition for their husbands.”
EIGHT
Julia was good at her job. The interviews were scheduled right away for the coming weekend. I was so excited and confident that at least one family would hire me. All I needed was one offer from all these opportunities. Since I didn’t know how to get around, Lora and Viktor would have to drive me, which was great for me, but not so much for them.
The locations were far apart, so we were out all day, driving from one house to another. I went to a few interviews on Saturday, and the next day we did the same routine. I saw all kinds of diversity—big and small houses, some families with a bunch of kids and some with just two. No families had just one kid, which I was hoping for.
I had six interviews. All the people seemed nice during the interview. I thought I did well, and so did Lora. My confidence was high as we waited for responses. I tried everything to land a job. I even tried to expand my English, saying things like I love kids, so I had a better chance of getting hired. I agreed with anything they wanted me to do. I didn’t expect to cook or clean the house when the interviews started but I was saying yes to all of it. I knew how to say yes very well in English, and I used it a lot those days. Some people got so greedy. When they saw I was agreeing to everything they started taking advantage, asking me to do more and more.
Sometimes if I would get confused about how to answer a question, I would pause and look to Lora, who would jump right into the conversation to help me out. Lora and I became such a good team. Some of them made me play with their kids to see if there was a connection with them. The kids were OK, and the moms looked pleased while I was playing with them.
As Julia instructed, I made myself look ordinary. I dressed in jeans and a simple blouse I had brought with me that I never wore because I didn’t like it. It was white and in a boxy shape with no style. I also hated the jeans I was wearing, a gift from my aunt. They were a rough dark blue material, loose and high-rise. I remember my mother made me bring these jeans to make my aunt happy. I had argued about bringing them but good thing I gave in—it seemed like these jeans were popular in my interviews. Mothers do sometimes know best, somehow.
I didn’t wear any makeup. My face looked pale and washed out. I even put some light-colored powder on my face to cover up my features. I covered up my naturally red color lips, so they didn’t stand out, and put my hair up in a ponytail again. I scared myself when I looked in the mirror. It wasn’t me, but I didn’t care as long as I got a job.
“This is the way it works,” Lora told me while we were driving home on Sunday afternoon. “Usually people are in a rush and if they want to hire you, they do it right away. I have no doubt you’ll get some phone calls tonight, so you might want to prepare yourself. Get ready and pack your stuff so I can drive you tomorrow before I go to work” she said.
“OK,” I said.
I feel great. I’m so excited to make a new start. It feels like I’m about to go on vacation. It doesn’t matter who hires me. I just want someone to call and say I’m hired. I did like one family though. Somehow, I felt comfortable in their house. I met both parents. They were a young, pleasant couple, and the kids were adorable. They were year-old twins. It was good that I didn’t need to speak much with them. I hope they hire me.
I undressed as soon as I got home. I was so tired of being in the baggy outfit. I took a shower, rinsed off my babysitter look and turned into the original me. The phone started ringing around seven o’clock, one family after another. Lora was answering most of the calls. Sometimes Viktor would pick it up from the kitchen and he’d tell Lora to pick up the phone. That’s how I knew the calls were for me. I finished packing and sat down with a cup of tea as I tried to study my English.
What if I get a few offers? I wonder which family I’ll choose. Some of them had a nice house, some had fewer kids, and some of the mothers were easygoing. It’s hard to choose, but what a great problem to have! That family I liked the most had such a tiny place, which I didn’t mind until I saw the big houses. It would be nice to live in one of those, even if I was working. That lady Julia. She’s such a nice lady. I have to make sure to thank her for the good interview tips. She would’ve been so proud of me if she had seen my wardrobe and my look. I did everything she told me, and I tried so hard. I hope I’ll be rewarded for all of this.
I was confident and happy when Lora came downstairs. The smile on her face made me even happier and impatient to hear what she had to say. She went straight to the kitchen, grabbed a glass of water and drank it without breathing—she seemed thirsty. She looked at me smiling; I smiled back at her.
“Alyssa, you were rejected by all of them,” she said.
My heart started beating faster as I became even more excited.
Did I get rejected from all of them? Wow, I did even better than I thought!
I sat up straight, opened my shoulders, I put my head up and looked at her proudly. My happy face confused her, which made me confused.
“Alyssa,” she said, “you were rejected. Understand? Rejected.”
Why does she keep repeating the same word? Doesn’t she know I got it? Wait … wait a minute. Did I get this right?
I quickly grabbed my dictionary to double check the meaning of rejected. And what I saw made me feel sick. I couldn’t move or say anything.
Her smile. It’s a nervous one, not a happy one. Or maybe she’s happy that I wasn’t going anywhere because she had some other plan, with her guns? My imagination is killing me.
“No one wanted to hire you because you’re too young,” Lora said.
Julia was right, once again.
“I’ll call Julia tomorrow and we’ll see what else she can do for you,” Lora said, and disappeared, as usual.
I feel so down. Maybe I should call my family with that phone card I bought. No, I better not. Better to call them when I’m upbeat. I am so disappointed. I was so sure someone would hire me. And now I’m stuck in this house, with no end in sight. I just want to speak with Julia. She’s my
only hope.
The days started to fall into a dull routine, with no prospects. A whole week went by with no news about job opportunities. The couple seemed very robotic. They would get up, go to work, come home, have some dinner and go to bed. I had no idea what they were doing in the bedroom but sometimes I’d hear the TV. Sometimes it was complete silence. But the bedroom door was always open. That was for sure.
Daytime was easier for me since I was by myself. But in the evening when they were home? It was uncomfortable. They wouldn’t say much to me. I didn’t know if they were OK with me staying with them this long, or if they were frustrated. I’d get nervous when I remembered the shoeboxes. I never went back to their bedroom after discovering the guns. I was afraid of finding something else, which would terrify me even more, with nowhere to go.
Maybe I should look for my passport, figure out this address, and call Zachary and ask him to get me out of here. Something is a little off in this house. Aside from the guns, I never see any visitors come here. This seems rather strange to me. That’s why the front door looks new, all bright white, with a nice shiny gold door-handle. The door is rarely used. Back home our house door is old and faded, with a discolored door-handle. That door is used all the time, opening and closing all day long. Sometimes we’d slam it so hard my mother would yell, “Don’t you know how to close the door properly?”
We had so many rules to learn when we were growing up, but who would ever think there would be one about how to treat the door? All my friends and I would laugh and make jokes about it. “Excuse me, door. I’m so sorry I didn’t treat you appropriately.” I guess some doors are busier than others. This couple’s front door is so inactive it’s almost useless. Lora and Viktor always come into the house through the garage. I never saw a garage attached to the house, but it’s kind of cool. I can’t wait to mention that to my family. I think I’m going crazy, making up stories about doors.
More than three weeks went by without any job news. I called home once, just to let them know I was fine. I wasn’t honest with my stories and situation. I told them I was waiting for a job, which was supposed to happen soon. There was no point in telling them about all my worries and boredom. It would only make them worry, and it wouldn’t do anything to help me. Finally, Julia called early one morning and said there was a family that had an emergency and needed help for a few days, maybe a week.
