Generation 02, Chapter 08: Try Again

It's morning and I'm standing in the kitchen.  No one is up and I can hear the sounds of birds chirping outside.  It's surreal.  Never did I imagine myself in such calmness.

I get tea ready for the Dhavals and walk upstairs with a tray.  I knock on their door and hear a rustling.  I knock again.  Why can't they hear me?

Finally, Mrtle's voice filters through the door.  "Come in."

I open the door and see Myrtle on the bed.  The sheets are messy and Myrtle looks disheveled like she hasn't combed her hair in a long time.  She's in a thin and revealing nightgown.  Were they just doing what I think they were doing?

My face is red and I turn to leave.  Mr. Dhaval comes out of hte master bathroom wearing nothing except very tight underwear.  I am extremely embarrassed.  "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were...," I stutter, not wanting to say it.

"It's alright, Calla.  Please, come in."

I awkwardly walk over to her and nearly trip over some of their clothes that are scattered carelessly on the floor.  As a way to make conversation, Myrtle asks me if I'll be doing the laundry and could I please change the sheets while I'm at it.

"Er, yes, of course.  I'll get right on that," I respond, as I set the tray on on nightstand.

"See you at breakfast," Mrs. Dhaval says as I turn to leave.

It took many attempts to cut the grapefruits that Dhavals wanted for breakfast and now I'm attempting to clean the clothes.  The washing machine is very high-tech looking and I click random buttons until it starts up.  I breathe a sigh of relief until the machine starts creaking and spluttering soap all over the place.

"Oh shit!  Dammit, stop you stupid thing!"  I panic and kick the machine.  It magically stops but now I have a broken washing machine and a wet and soapy floor.

I quickly wipe up the water as best I can and call a mechanic to come over.  He only works from 9-4 and it's only 8.  I desperately want him to come now before the Dhavals come downstairs and realize it's broken.  He agrees, but I have to pay him double his normal amount.  Fortunately, he comes and leaves without the Dhavals noticing.  With laundry off of my list, I skip ironing and go onto scrubbing the kitchen up.

While wiping off the counters, Myrtle comes into the room.  "Calla, Mr. Dhaval and I will be going out.  As always, if you need something, Champagne can help you."  Champagne walks in and she turns the conversation towards him.  "Calla's such a nice young woman, isn't she, Champagne?"

"Of course," he answers.  Turning towards me he says, "Hello again."

"Hi," I say.  It feels weird seeing him especially after the events of last night.

"Well, I'll be off," Myrtle announces and she whisks around and walks out of the door to her husband.

"I told my mom about you last night.  She's agreed to help you cook and she's willing to teach you cleaning also."

"I don't need cleaning advice," I instantly retort.

"Okay, well then, you get onto it."

He doesn't leave.  To prove to him that I can clean, I take a spray bottle and start spraying the side of the trash compactor with it.  I casually peek at the bottle and see the words DO NOT USE ON STAINLESS STEEL OR WOOD in large bold letters.  Well damn.

"Okay, see ya," Champ says, grinning.

I quit my work in the kitchen and call a local girl who will come and iron Mr. Dhaval's shirts for §2 per shirt. I give her an extra §10 to sew one the buttons that are missing off of two of the shirts.  Then I get to making the beds.  Unfortunately, the stupid sheets won't cooperate with me and I spend nearly an hour making the Dhaval's bed. 

I check the clothes in the dryer and in horror, I see that all of the clothes have been ruined.  So I spend nearly §1000 on replacements that will be shipped tomorrow.  I cross my fingers that the Dhavals will not notice the sudden change in their clothes.

After giving up on dusting and vacuuming, I work on the last thing on my list of things to do it: scrub the shower.  The tile is very stained and I have no idea what to use to get it off.  I fill a bucket with water and dump some dish soap into it.  Then I start scrubbing.  After an hour I'm sore and tired from not eating lunch and from scrubbing this stupid piece of filthy crap. 

I cry in frustration and accidentally whack the shower handle.  Water pours all over .

"SHIT!"  I yell.

Champ appears at the doorway.  "Have you tried using vinegar, baking soda, and ammonia?"

"Right, I knew that."

"No, you didn't."

"You're right," I sigh.  "I didn't.

There's silence until Champ speaks again.  "My mom could still give you cooking and cleaning help if you're willing to do that.  I think you would really benefit from that.  No offense," he adds as he starts to mop up the water.

I've never needed help in my life, but I really need help with this.  I genuinely need help.

"That'd be really nice," I finally say.

"Okay, great.  I'll let her know.  Again, she really enjoys a challenge.  And she can help you with any other household chores you might need to do."

I grow red.  It's embarrassing for me to need assistance.  But I do need it.  For this job.  And so that I don't go broke in the next two weeks.

"Have you had lunch yet?"  Champ asks, interrupting my thoughts.

"No, I've spent too much time doing this," I frown, wincing as my stomach growls.

"You should stop.  You've been working all day. There are some leftovers in the fridge so come eat.  You look famished."

Today was hard and busy.  I've never done that much physical work in my life.

...And I thought being a lawyer was difficult.