He was sitting quietly, clutching a teddy bear in his two grubby hands. Somewhere in the house another child was crying. A frazzled woman walked into the room.
I immediately noticed a knit in her brow. It was a tight little anger mark but it seemed to scream a word I’m not allowed to repeat.
“So,” she begins, sitting down and pulling the little boy into her lap. “First I need the kitchen cleaned up. Raising two is a difficult process and the dishes have really gotten away on me.”
“And the living room needs to be done next. My husband will be home in a few hours.”
There. I see it now. The knit tightened at ‘husband.’ It’s another one of those families.
“I’ll get to work right away, miss.”
I worked for them for a few months after that first meeting. The children were sweet. The wife was distant and quiet. I never saw the husband, thank god.
The way she talked about her husband was controlled, too controlled for a loving couple.
I was a maid for fifteen years and I assure you, women talking about their husbands in a controlled manner gave away the only control they had in their relationships.