Costly Touch | ONC 2020 Longlist (✔)

Chapter 1

The house is bustling with activity as Ma directs everyone on what to do before our guests arrive. I imagine we look a lot like a tornado does - bits and pieces flying every which way. Nothing is done to Ma's satisfaction, but we must do our best with what we have. Time is up.

A man knocks on the door in three sharp taps and then announces his presence, as is customary in this part of town.

"It is Mr. Evert Compati here with misters James and Sortin."

"Good luck, dear," I kiss my youngest sister on the head before heading to the kitchen with Ma, "I know you will do wonderfully!"

I don't know that, actually. She is usually the worst of us at following the rules. Jem says it's because we are all terrible examples. I am fairly certain she is right.

Nevertheless, Dad needs to keep his job so I must be a delightful young thing this evening as we entertain our guests.

"The glasses, dear," is all my mother says to me as I enter the kitchen. A normal family would exchange pleasantries. But we are not a normal family. And there is no one here to see us for another two minutes, so we can afford to be curt.

I get right to work polishing the glasses on the tray as Ma fills the pitcher with a perfectly mixed refreshment. I was extremely thankful she hadn't made me attempt to make the drink. To say I am not skilled in the culinary arts is perhaps more obvious than to say that my hair is blonde.

Ma pins a stray piece of my hair into the knot at the base of my neck as we hear the door opening.

"Misters Compati, James, and Sortin. It is a pleasure to have you here," my dad's voice rings with confidence, as is befitting a man in his position. I can tell by the shuffle afterwards that he had ushered them into our foyer.

A small, meek voice came drifting through the house next as my sister clearly did a wonderful job, "Please, may I offer to take your coats, sirs?"

I had never heard her put it on this well in her entire life. I am so proud of my sister in that moment. Part of me wishes she were always that quiet and demure, but then she wouldn't be my sister, so it wouldn't be right.

The footfalls approach the dining room as my father makes quiet conversation with his colleagues.

"It's time, dear," my mother whispers almost imperceptibly into my ear, "I'll hold the door for you."

I nod and pick up the tray, silently willing myself to remember the proper etiquette for this situation. Words, glass, pitcher. No, that's not quite right. Words, tray, glass, pitcher, tray. Yes, that's it. I silently repeat the mantra to myself as Ma opens the door and allows me to enter the room before her.

Words. "May I offer you all a beverage?" I almost forget to listen for the answers, but they make it easy on me by all accepting. Are they being kind to me or trying to test me? I continue regardless of their intentions.

I put the tray down on the buffet and pick up a spotless glass. I turn over the rest in turn as I pour them. When I am finished, I walk each glass over to the men in order of their rank before finally handing one to my father, the host. He smiles at me, as I have finally remembered his rank is always last in his own home.

Tray. I return the pitcher to the tray and remove it from the dining room. Only once I'm back in the kitchen do I finally allow myself to breathe. Ma is only two steps behind me telling me how well I did and kissing my cheek.

"I always forget to put the pitcher back on the tray before I deliver the drinks," I put my head in my hands, "how will I ever pass my exams with skills like this? I just want to be done with this stuff!"

Though I speak quietly, Ma shushes me to remind me of the dangers of being heard by the men in the next room.

I hug her quickly and make sure my tears have not stained my face. I don't need to make a second mistake tonight. At least not this quickly.

Ma smiles and reminds me what is next on the list, "Now we wait ten minutes before we take in the first course. You will then allow me to serve dinner as you collect your siblings and usher them into the kitchen."

She is taking the more difficult task, assuming my siblings behave. I try to remember the order of import for my siblings. I know we will eat in the kitchen, rather than with Dad's associates, but I think the women are first. Or is it oldest to youngest? Why are there so many rules?

Ma must sense my frustration, because she whispers the answer into my ear, "Unmarried then married, girls then boys, youngest to oldest. In that order."

I start ordering all of my siblings in my head. Before I can ask her, she adds, "Jem's husband goes behind her, you are last."

Jem probably knows this, but I really don't want to admit to her that I don't, so I'm getting it all straight now.

I barely have the order sorted when Ma grabs my hand and ushers me towards the kitchen table where the food is laid out. We take the first course to the buffet so she can serve it to the gathered guests.

As I curtsy and leave the room, I hear one of the men say something I cannot quite make out. I am almost certain I've done something wrong, and I'm sure I'll hear about it later. All I can do now is make sure my conduct from here on out follows protocol.

I silently fly up the stairs to gather my siblings. I don't know why I'm surprised to find them all standing in order when I arrive - Jem is there, after all.

We walk silently down the stairs; I lead the way, Jem and her husband are at the back. It is only at the last minute that I remember I am supposed to be last.

I send Elisa through to the kitchen and watch the whole line pass me until I may follow them in. I try to look composed as I walk through the dining room, but inside I am unsure if I'm supposed to help Ma clear the trays or not.

I look to my right as I walk through the dining room and instantly know I have made the wrong call. Eyes forward, Maria. Just hope nobody saw.