It happened unexpectedly, a sudden shift that altered everything at once. Emotions of sadness and grief overwhelmed me—an unusual sensation given that no one had passed away, but it felt like that. My upbringing unfolded in Astoria, Oregon, within the confines of a small baby blue house enveloped by Western Hemlock trees and small sidewalks that were badly cracked but never fixed. The branches of trees seemed burdened during the rainy season. My room faced south, and as the sun set, it bathed the space in a warm orange effervescence. This room carried my childhood into my teen years. The little holes in the wall, testament to the posters I had religiously hung up and taken down, the phone jack where conversations with friends stretched until 1 am—the very walls bore witness to my sleepovers and tears.
I could empathize with my mother's desire for a better life for us, but was it really so bad here? I had just completed my junior year, with an amazing group of friends, working tirelessly throughout the summer to save up for a car, and even contributing to cover some of our bills. Mom constantly reassured me, insisting we were fine and that I didn't need to worry. However, my perception shifted when I noticed bills stacking up, some little with red stamps declaring notices. I wasn't oblivious, but I genuinely believed we were managing just fine.
After my father passed away, we had enough money to get by. While not a substantial amount, it sustained us for years before running out. My mom took on odd jobs here and there, but the truth was it wasn't enough and she was too ashamed to admit it. To shield me from the harsh reality, she would sometimes lie, trying to make me feel secure. Deep down, I knew it was only a matter of time before we had to downsize. I thought perhaps moving to an apartment or staying with Aunt Lori could be a solution, however, that would not happen.
I came home from school one day, and the living room was filled with boxes. The books that were on the shelf were gone, the walls were bare, and the curtains were off the rods—it looked like I had stepped into the wrong house. My mom leaned against a box in the kitchen, her hair in a messy bun with a red face and beads of sweat on her forehead.
"Mom?" I asked, standing there, confused. I hadn't even taken off my backpack. She looked up with a warm smile and started to walk over, welcoming me in for an unexpected hug.
"I have amazing news!" she said as she wrapped her arms around me. I didn't hug back; my stomach sank as I didn't know what was happening.
"I got an incredible job offer! This is going to change everything!" she exclaimed, gripping my shoulders tightly.
"Where?" I asked, my voice flat, my heart sinking as I braced for her answer. With a solemn expression, she guided me to the worn couch, a remnant of my childhood.
"The job is in Norway. I'll be working as a household assistant for a businessman," she explained, her gaze filled with apprehension as she took in my reaction. I felt frozen.
"A maid? We're moving across the country for you to be a maid!?"
My reaction was immediate, a surge of heat flooding my face as I shot back. She tried to soothe me, unraveling the tangled web of emotions knotted inside me. I knew she had been hunting for a new job, but why did it have to be in another country? Typical of her to find an opportunity in the most unexpected place. The job she described sounded too perfect. I voiced my concerns, warning her of the all-too-familiar pitfalls of online scams. Yet, she countered with assurances of legitimacy, citing a reputable platform and a thorough interview process with her prospective employer. She remained positive that this was the opportunity we needed. I found myself teetering on the edge of acceptance, reluctantly embracing the allure. Questions soon flooded my mind—where would I go to school? What about college? I had plans to apply to university this year. Tears welled up in my eyes as she tried to comfort me, assuring me that this change was for the best. The reality was that my mother had just enough to cover this month's mortgage, and what came after was uncertain. She kept repeating that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. The concept seemed absurd to me. I couldn't help but wonder why she hadn't shared this with me earlier, only to discover that she intended it to be a surprise. However, the offer turned out to be as much of a surprise for her as it was for me. Her work history encompassed various roles, ranging from clerical positions to food delivery services and a few temporary stints as a personal assistant. Primarily, my mother worked as a maid or household assistant. It was practically the same thing, except for one thing . The ad emphasized the necessary experience of working with high end clients. It was something she did not possess. I questioned—why offer the position to someone with this experience? The ad further described working with high-profile individuals who valued privacy, and required a non disclosure agreement to be signed. This made me feel uneasy. Who was this man? And who did he think he was?
YOU ARE READING
The Charm Bracelet
Mystery / ThrillerAt just seventeen, Sara had faced more turmoil than most her age. Her father's death shattered their family, leaving her mother struggling to keep them afloat. Then, a lifeline emerged: a job offer in Norway. But the move wasn't just a change of sce...