He takes in the situation quickly and then tosses a sliceof cheese far down the alley—one of the pieces he cuts as samples at his stall—and the dog yips around the ball in his mouth and jumps up to chase the snack, snatching it while managing to keep one ball in his mouth. Then he disappears from sight.
I grab the other two balls, relieved to at least get those.
“Teresa!” That’s Lorraine in her most domineering voice. “Teresa! Where are you, girl?” She appears at the opening of the alley and sees me and Mason. Her annoyed expression darkens. “What are you doing back here, pestering Mason?”
“I was getting the balls.”
“You better have retrieved them all. They’re worth far too much for you to handle so thoughtlessly. Did you get them away from that disgusting mongrel?”
I glance toward Mason, who covertly raises one finger to his lips in the universal gesture for quiet and then covers it by coughing into his hand.
Keeping my eyes downcast as I turn toward Lorraine, I say, “I found them all, yes. Mason helped me.”
“You should never have bothered him with such a task. Your duties are your duties. Not anyone else’s.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I learned early on that that response alone can shorten the duration of Lorraine’s lectures.
“What a scene you’ve made in front of the whole village. No wonder no one wants to marry you. Get this junk over to Aria and then go home. The floors need scrubbing before we’re done for the day. You know me andAria work so hard we can’t do those kinds of chores ourselves.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
For some reason, knowing that Mason was hearing this conversation makes it a hundred times worse. I’ve been dealing with this treatment for years, but it grates on me and mortifies me more because he’s standing right there, staring with his normal serious expression.
Glad for an escape, I slip out of the alley, hearing Lorraine say, “I’m so sorry you had to deal with her. My late husband’s daughter. Not very bright and often lazy, but I take care of her anyway. The things we do because they’re our duty.”
A couple of hours later, I’m on my hands and knees, scrubbing the floor.
I snicker as I remember Mason’s secret sign to keep quiet about the dog absconding with one of the balls instead of fessing up to Lorraine.
He tossed some of his valuable cheese to the poor animal. He must have some sort of kindness lurking beneath his stoic detachment. And he obviously recognized that Lorraine would react negatively to my losing one of the balls.
Why he wants to marry Aria and get stuck with Lorraine as a mother-in-law is beyond me, but Aria isbeautiful and healthy. Men often care more about that than behavior.
It’s not my problem, and Mason isn’t my concern.
I hope the dog is all right.
At least he got a piece of cheese and kept one of the balls.
2
Every Fridaysince I was twelve, I’ve done laundry for the entire household.
For the first part of my life, all household chores had to be done by hand. When the asteroid hit Europe in the event we now call the Fall, the entire planet was thrown into chaos and all order and infrastructure everywhere collapsed. Life in this region was as rustic and uncivilized as the rest of the world until President Patterson took control, stabilizing and securing first the Capitol, then all the towns and villages surrounding it, and then all the nearby larger cities. He formed the Central Cities and created the only safe place in the world.
But life was difficult. My childhood years were defined primarily by hard work. I only had a couple of years of school before my mother pulled me out to handle most of the domestic chores, including laundry, so she could workwith the village seamstress to earn us more credits. I wouldn’t even know how to read and write if Father hadn’t taught me himself.
A few years ago, when the technological conveniences from the newly developed solar battery finally trickled out to the villages closest to the Capitol, my domestic work should have become much easier. We got an efficient laundry machine that washes and dries our clothes, in addition to an oven, dishwasher, refrigerator, and vacuum cleaner.
But Lorraine still insists that her and Aria’s dresses need to be hand-washed. They’re too valuable to risk damaging in a machine.
So Friday laundry remains an all-day affair.
I begin early the next morning, collecting the week’s clothing from where it’s scattered all over their rooms.
There’s a ridiculous amount. They each wear at least two outfits a day, plus extra they try on and discard as they dress in the mornings without hanging the clothes back up. I try not to stew in resentment as I add their huge piles to my small one.
I gave up on indulging resentment a long time ago—in the same way I gave up on anger and hope.
