My Kind of Perfect

16th ツ

16th ツ

“We’re home!” announced Dorothy.

“I’m exhausted. I’ll just go up and take some rest,” said John, sliding the backpack he was carrying off his shoulders and letting it slid to the floor.

“Can I die now?” I muttered to myself.

“Not yet, dear. We still have loads of work to do. Go put your things down, and change your clothes. We’ll start your other lectures today.” Dorothy, despite her given age, still had sharp ears.

“Can’t I have a day-off today? We just got home!” I protested.

John, on the other hand, only yawned, stretched his shoulders and headed upstairs—leaving me to the care of his ‘deadly’ grandmother. How heartless could one person become? It was as if he had already attained the last step towards the highest degree of being indifferent.

“What about him?” I asked, pointing to John and feeling a sense of injustice rumbling inside my head. If I had to do this, so did he.

“It’s not stated in the contract that he has to learn household chores, too,” answered Dorothy. “He’s the husband in the story.”

“Our world now practices equality for men and women.”

“Uh-huh. But this is hardly about equality.”

“And why do I even have to learn all this? It’s not like I’ll be staying here or anything after the contract. This will all end up in vain, I tell you.”

“We’re doing this to let time pass by wisely,” answered Dorothy. Then turning to Janette, she uttered, “Get the kitchen ready. I’m going to teach Kayla how to prepare meals.”

“Let’s just have some takeout.” I was certain that they could afford it. And they had a freaking hotel whose food was not below the exquisite standard. They could have one of their men-in-black deliver it here. Or we could all eat at the hotel. They got a car. And really, the only meal I knew how to prepare was sandwich, with all the ingredients bought from the supermarket.

“That is very unhealthy,” she said back.

The hotel, I wanted to say. Aside from ordering takeout, there was still the hotel. Surely, they must be maintaining the quality of food being served there.

But the sharp look in Dorothy’s eyes told me that our discussion was over. Walking to the kitchen’s direction, giving her bag to Nate, and talking some more to Janette, it all had been said and implied clearly. And so, having no other choice, I followed her to the kitchen. There was no given hint that I was going to be let off for the day. And it was such a beautiful day outside to make use of my life productively.

Clearly, it wouldn’t happen here.

“Wash your hands first,” Dorothy said as soon as I entered her comfy kitchen. The first thing I noticed was that it was spacious—big enough to handle a party inside. I did see her kitchen before. I just never noticed anything back then.

I spotted the sink at my right and went to it. I did what was told, still couldn’t believe that I was even doing this. My mom, for the last twenty-eight years, hadn’t succeeded in making me her apprentice. And here was Dorothy, with just a single word out of her mouth, made me do as told.

“Here,” said Janette, handing me a red apron.

“Oh, okay. An apron.”

Dorothy, I noticed when I looked at her direction, already got one wrapped around her. She was preparing something on the smaller island with gray granite countertop. Janette then went back to where she was, and helped her with what she was doing. In another minute, they transferred everything to where I was.