Yes, Master

Chapter Eleven: A Letter

  After I tell him the story, Curtis picks something up off the table. He hands it to me. It's a thick, white envelope. On the front, my name is scrawled in messy cursive. I rip it open savagely, curious to see what's inside. It's written on thick, white, creamy paper, like the type of paper that I once saw Alexander's mother use for invitations. Alexander. I consider, for a moment, tearing it up, thinking it's a letter from Alexander. I unfold the letter, reading it. Turns out, the letter isn't from Alexander. It's from Alexander's father. It reads:

Dear Rosalie,

      I am Alexander's father. I know I'm usually not around when you are working, since I myself am usually working at that time. I recently heard of your mother's untimely passing and was devastated. I shared a quite close relationship with your mother, after your father's death. We were close in more than a few ways. Allow me to explain. Your mother was my.....mistress. We had sessions once a week where she would...meet with me. In exchange for these sessions and your mother's silence, I gave your mother money and gave you a job. I felt that after your mother's death, you, the lady of the house, deserved to know this. I'll continue giving you money in exchange for your silence. Don't tell my wife. Don't tell Alexander. Please.

      Thank You,

      Elijah Nottingham

   I throw down the letter, my mouth open in shock. Luckily, Curtis is working on a patient so he doesn't ask me what's wrong. Instead, he asks me to make a lotion for this patient's rash.

  As I pass him the thick lotion, I whisper to him, "I need to talk to you." He nods.

  After the patient leaves with instructions from Curtis's father, I turn to Curtis and hand him the letter. He reads it, his shock beginning to register across his face.

  "Like father, like son," he murmurs. "So he's paying you off?" he asks, as if looking for confirmation of the fact that Alexander's father is a total ass.

  I nod.

  "I think he's just starting to feel the guilt, because after her death, some secrets might be dug up. He probably thought he might as well confess now. I can't blame your mother. People do crazy things for their children," he says.  When he says this, I begin to cry again. Thinking of the struggle my mother went through to take care of us. She had to do unprintable stuff with this man, who sounds very cold and unfeeling. It must have been so hard.

  Curtis just lets me cry it out, sitting next to me. "I'm sorry, Rosalie. I really am. Your mother was a very brave woman. And she left behind an amazing daughter. An amazing, beautiful, wonderful, funny daughter. Who can handle this. Because she's strong and great."

  I look up tearfully. "Shut up, Curtis. Flattery won't get you anywhere." I hate Curtis and his little underhanded ways. If you're going to be sweet, be sweet all the time. Don't insult my taste in men one day and the next day, say all these good things. Pick a side.