Hollow Valley

After church, I return and change into my uniform. I wear clothes that look like a boy's school uniform, grey polyester trousers and a white short sleeve shirt and tie. I tuck the tie in between the buttons when I clean. The house is always a mess on a Sunday morning. I've got to clean up quietly; because they sleep all day and you never know whom you will find lying around in a puddle of puke or piss. These people don't have any dignity. They never go to church. I begin by clearing away empty bottles and emptying ashtrays. I don't know what to do with the cocaine still lined up on the tea tray. I carefully clean around it and straighten out the line of powder with a letter opener. That is the best I can do.

I make up the tea caddy with coffee and cake. Like children in a hotel, they like it brought to them. I push the door open. Boss is lying naked in the center of the bed. His tanned skin punctuated by tufts of blonde fuzz. I look at him closely. I like to look when he is unaware. Next to him, wrapped up in a sheet is his wife, Anya. She is naked and looks used up in the early morning. On the other side is that bleached blonde woman, Natalie. She is wearing his shirt, under which I see a black haired muff. I avert my eyes.

Natalie wakes up and holds a finger to her lips in order to indicate for me to be quiet. I look at my shoes while she pulls on her skirt and leaves the room. I take this opportunity to gather up the dirty clothes on the floor so that I can start the wash. They haven't bought a washing machine; I suppose because they have me. I wash everything by hand with a washing board in the sink and wring it out tightly so that it dries quickly on the line. Next, also by hand, I wash all the dishes. At last I am done and can do what has been on my mind. I find his sketchpad and carefully rip out a piece of paper remembering to remove all evidence at the spine of the missing sheet of paper. This is what I do when they are sleeping and after the house is sorted – I draw.

I draw him as I saw him that morning, legs spread, and chin tilted upward, mouth slightly open, his penis draped over his leg. I blow off the excess bits of charcoal and hold it up. Such a picture must be a sin to draw; yet I can't help myself. I look around, afraid someone may have walked in behind me. No one is there, but my instincts are right. Someone is coming. I slide the paper under a placemat. Boss enters the kitchen, holding an empty coffee cup. His bathrobe is untied. I see his sculpted abdomen that is made somehow more perfect by a slight bulge of flesh above the hips. I don't look directly at him when he is awake. He pours himself a fresh cup of coffee.

'I told you...' he says to his wife who is following him into the kitchen, '...it was your idea.'

'I would never suggest it. Why would I? I hate her, and I wouldn't get anything out of it.'

'Oh, you did. You were high out of your mind. You don't remember.' Boss looks at me, 'Hello Langton. How are you today?'

I pretend that I had some work to do and excuse myself out of the kitchen. 'Don't ignore me,' she says. 'You can't escape this. I know that she wants you all to herself. But, I swear she will get you over my dead body. She just can't come in here and fuck you in front of me and get away with it - that manipulative skank. What kills me is that you want her.' I hear this from the hall. I suspect that Madam is right. I've seen the way Boss is with that Natalie woman. He wants her like freshly baked muffins coming out of the oven.

'Don't talk about her that way. She's nice. Anyway, we are artists. When have we ever cared about who we fuck? You are being ridiculous.'

She yells, 'This isn't in my head! I can feel it. She is a threat.' Madam rushes by me down the hall where I pretend to be dusting the picture frames. She yells again, 'You owe it to me to call it off with her, Theo.'

He follows her. 'Come on, Nata... Anya.'

'Did you just call me her name? Jesus Christ. I've got to get out of here. Langton, where are my riding boots?' I get them for her. She stuffs in her feet. 'I'm going out,' she says to me, 'I won't need lunch.' Then, she heads off in the directions of the stables. Boss doesn't want food, but he snuffs up the line of cocaine, saying that it will cure his hangover. Then, he goes up to his studio. Before long, I hear him talking excitedly on the phone.