Yes, Master

Chapter Two: A Pit in My Stomach

  I go home that night with a pit in my stomach. I didn't see Alexander for the rest of the day after my outburst and I'm not sure I'll see him ever again. It's not exactly the best idea to yell like that at your employer's son if you would like to keep your job. I open the door, my feet aching from the long walk home. I scan the small, one room hut and burst out in to tears. I see my mother and my sister lying in bed together. My sister grazing my mother's cheek with the back of her hand, and my mother sleeping, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. I think about how I put their lives in jeopardy with my outburst today and my silent tears turn in to loud, choking sobs. I'm sobbing because if I lose my job, we won't have food and we'll starve. Sobbing because my sweet, sweet sister doesn't deserve to live such a hard life. Doesn't deserve to hardened. Sobbing because I just ruined what may have been my last chance at love with the boy I like. Sobbing because I may not have a job tomorrow and because I'm still so inexplicably curious about that proposition.

  My sister turns her head towards me. She hops out of the rickety bed and reaches up to hug me. I'm so touched by the simple beauty of the gesture that I cry more. She doesn't speak, but just grabs my arm and pulls me toward the bed. She sits me down on the edge of the bed, pulling herself up in to my lap. The bed squeaks, crying out underneath my weight. She wraps her arms around me, burying her head in my neck. We just sit like that, crying next to our sleeping mother.

  Eventually the tears stop and I fall asleep. The next morning, I wake up with a dry throat and empty stomach. I walk the distance to the brook and wash a little bit, coming back with a pail full of water and scratched feet from all the brambles and bushes. I find a small loaf of bread in our cupboard and take a tiny piece to eat. Then I trudge my way to my workplace, unsure if I will be working today.

 I walk in to the large mansion my employers call home. I breathe a sigh of relief when my mistress hands me a slip of paper that isn't a severance document. Instead, it's a large to-do list. Large but doable. I start in on the list when Alexander comes in. "Hello," he says pleasantly.

  "I'm surprised you didn't have me fired," I say timidly. "After all the awful things I said." 

  "I probably could have had you fired, but after that outburst, I really began to see things your way. I should thank you really, for putting things in to perspective for me," he says in a friendly manner.

  I nod. "You're welcome." 

  "By the way, the offer to be involved in my plan still stands," he says, holding out his hand as if he is holding out the plan on a silver platter.

  "Tell me about the plan," I say, my curiosity trumping my sense.