A Servant's Meeting

Stood under the door’s threshold, head leaned just within the room, was a young woman with a furrowed brow and a tidy maid’s uniform. She was young, short and stout, with hands that were weathered beyond her years. Those doe-like eyes, brown as mahogany, sparkled among the debris of dust motes and haze. Her skin glowed as beautifully as polished oak under the warm sunlight. Their cracks and callouses creased in valleys as her fingers continuously wrung a washcloth.

“Ah,” she breathed, her anxious eyes softening. Just a touch of a smile pulled at the corners of her lips, anxious though it was. The washcloth hung from one hand as the other rested on her chest, as if relieved. “There you are! I hadn’t seen you yet today. How are you faring so far? Are you feeling well?”

Cecilia blinked, her own shoulders squared and eyes as wide as a deer in headlights. “Um,” she said, drawing out her words. “Yes, I am…” She paused.

A beat of silence passed between them.

Cecilia’s mind was tripping over itself as she thought as fast as she could. This felt like an important interaction, like her next words would mean the difference between a conversation and an altercation. Think, think, think, think, think—Cecilia racked her brain for the best, most appropriate thing to say, and eventually spat out—

“Good.”

Great. Excellent. Nailed it.

Cecilia possessed an enigmatic air of mystery and intrigue even in her confusion, craving for information.

Cecilia’s hair stood on end at DMV’s sudden reappearance—or as much of a reappearance as you can have when you do not actually have an appearance. Her eyes flickered, in response, between the empty ceiling above before returning to the girl waiting at the door. “Did you…” Cecilia paused, pondering her next words. “Hear something?”

The maid tilted her head, eyebrows bunched together. “Nothing in particular,” she answered placatingly. “But the house does make strange sounds from time to time, so please try not to alarm yourself. You will get used to its noise in time, I assure you!”

It seemed DMV really was her “story’s” narrator, and it also seemed that she was the only one who could hear him twist her reactions into a more “fitting” tone for the narrative.

She did not know if that was better or worse.

Fortunately, the other woman did not seem to have any suspicions or concerns about her curt answer or paranoid question. If anything, her expressions softened further. It may have been sympathy, maybe even some sort of understanding. Regardless, it was undoubtedly kind, just as much as her voice.

“It is never easy, beginning a new job, living in an unfamiliar place.” Her smile turned a tinge guilty, glancing down toward the floor. “I’m sure being accosted by a stranger first thing in the morning does not help either.” She shook her head, coiled hair bouncing as she took on a cheerier tone once again. “Truthfully, I was a little worried that very anxiety had already affected you. I was hoping you had just overslept. And it’s a little funny that it seems you have!”

Cecilia’s eyes furrowed slightly, confused. “What were you worried could have happened?”

“Oh, nothing really!” she assured, waving her hands. The washcloth swayed frantically in time with the movement. “It’s just…Some of the others who have been here have gotten overwhelmed sooner or later, and in turn, they had gotten…” She seemed to have been thinking about the right word to use as much as Cecilia had been.

Had her own silence felt so awkward and worrying?

“Well,” the girl finally said, “They had just gotten flighty, I suppose, deciding they would pursue something else. Suddenly. In the night. Without anyone knowing of their intentions or whereabouts.”

Okay, forget about the interaction being awkward; the worrying part was a lot more accurate now.

She tried to jump in with reassurance again. “But, really, I don’t mean to alarm or frighten you! It really is of no major concern! Or, really, of any concern, I’m sure—”

“Okay, I get it,” Cecilia cut her off, something done for both their sakes. She bit her lip, scratching the back of her head as she continued. “Well, uh…” Another pause. God, her mind felt so scrambled. “I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

She hoped they had not met before, that it would not be taken as an insult or social slight that she did not know it yet.

“Yes, my apologies! My name is Coriander.” Coriander gave a polite curtsy, the movement feeling more like habit than anything else. “I have been one of the maids here at the Sisyphus Manor for a number of years now. It is a pleasure to meet you, Cecilia.”

“Coriander,” Cecilia repeated. “It’s nice to meet you. My name is—”

She paused. Coriander had just said her name; she already knew it.

This was a book, apparently, and she was the unwitting protagonist. Despite the unsettling implications, and the consequential questions of what other information would be known by who knew who else.

Cecilia decided to not question it; just move past it, not question it.

“Well, anyway, I guess we need to get started? On the day, I mean.”

“Of course, you are absolutely right!” Coriander said, hands clasping together, squeezing the washcloth between. “We do need to get started. There is much to do, and there is only so much time we have in a day.” “I’m afraid not,” the other said, holding out her hand as though they were equals rather than strangers in livery. “No need to ‘miss’ me—we are sisters in the same work now.”

Cecilia’s shoulders eased a little at that.

“Come,” Coriander said, guiding her toward the changing room. “You will feel better once you’ve gotten into a clean uniform. More than just clothes, it helps you step into the rhythm of the house, keeps your mind narrowed and your focus on your tasks. Once you hear the bells and know where to be, it will all make sense. Try not to fret over any little mistakes; we all stumble at first.”

Cecilia glanced down, her nerves settling just a touch now that she knew a specific direction to move in. “Thank you,” she breathed. “This morning has been…overwhelming.”

Coriander laughed softly. “Oh, we have all had our first days, and we have all felt that same way. But the trick is to keep moving, keep smiling, and that remember you are not alone here. I’ll show you the ropes today. Dusting, polishing, keeping the hearth bright—nothing you cannot manage with a pair of steady hands!”

She opened the door to the small room, light spilling across rows of neatly hung aprons and caps. “Come on, love. Let’s get you dressed. By tonight, you will feel you’ve always belonged here.”

Cecilia followed, her step lighter now, buoyed by the gentle certainty in Coriander’s voice.

Ever so mannerly, she gave a quick nod, almost a bow of her head, as she said, “I will leave you to get dressed, and afterward, I will give you a short tour of the manor so that you may find your footing. And, please—” Her brown eyes shone warmly, her entire presence radiating an empathetic patience. “—Know that you can come to me with both your questions and worries. We are now sisters joined in shared labors, so please lean on me when you are in need.”

With that, Coriander finally turned on her heel and disappeared around the corner of the doorway. Before completely disappearing from sight, she offered one more look over her shoulder, holding an unreadable expression that Cecilia only caught for a second before she was gone entirely, the soft clack clack clacks of her heeled soles fading quickly down the hall.