Mr. Weston

127K 1.8K 1.3K
                                    

I fell in love with him when he was Jack. I don't even know if he ever really was Jack, or if "Jack" was just another one of them. The doctors say his condition is rare. Therapy might help, but there's no guarantee he would ever fully recover.

I only knew a few things to be absolutely true about Jack. He was the last living member of an old and incredibly wealthy family called "Weston," he lived all alone in a humongous mansion hidden in the forests of Canada, he had an incredibly rare mental illness that made him believe he was a different person nearly every day, and I was hopelessly in love with him.

I met him by accident. I was twenty-six, broke, and on the verge of being homeless. I wasn't close with my family but did keep close ties with one friend from my hometown: Sara. She was one of the few people I felt comfortable enough to confide in.

When I explained my problems she offered a solution. Her great uncle was retiring from his job as a caretaker soon. A lot of people had applied, but few made it past the first three days of the week-long training, and none past the sixth. Apparently, he was getting desperate and asked her to search around. Well, begged might have been a better word than asked.

I asked her what the job entailed. She said I would be required to live in a giant, luxurious mansion in the middle of 500 acres of Canadian wilderness, completely rent-free. I would be paid eight hundred dollars daily for my services, meals and other expenses related to my work would be complimentary. My sole responsibility was to care for a mentally ill man. He was neither dangerous nor abusive, but his changing moods and various demands were something many people had trouble adapting to.

I'd always been an adaptable person. I asked her how to contact her uncle. My initial interview took place over the phone. General questions about my health, experience, etc. I was honest about having absolutely no experience in this area, it surprised me when he actually asked when I'd be willing to start.

By that next week, I was flown in a private jet to an out-of-the-way airport in a small Canadian city. Sara's uncle picked me up and drove me to what would potentially be my new home. In a limousine of all things. As we drove, the buildings and houses of the town slowly began to thin out. Before I knew it, there was nothing but the forest surrounding us. The trees blurred together into a wall of green as we drove past them. I was beginning to wonder if they would ever end. Suddenly, I saw a dark silhouette rising above the tree line. The mansion.

I stared in awe as we approached it. As we drew closer he stopped the car and got out to open the large front gate. The walls surrounding the place were huge and made of stone, the gate was a solid, but intricately decorated slab of iron. The gate was impressive, but it paled in comparison to what was on the other side. Acres of green grass spread in every direction. Shrubs, trees, and flower patches were dotted throughout. It was so large I couldn't even see the other walls that were supposed to surround the place. A breathtaking view, but I barely noticed it as the actual mansion came into view.

It was a beautiful old mansion styled in the Victorian fashion, but was so well cared for you would have thought it was brand new. More beautiful stonework made up the outer walls, large columns helped to support the sloping roof. I almost couldn't believe the size of them. Gothic windows dotted the outside, though most were covered by heavy curtains. A pair of heavy, wooden doors guarded the entrance of the home. It was like something out of a classic romance novel.

The interior was just as gorgeous, but I had little time to admire it. No sooner had we stepped inside than the caretaker turned to me. He looked serious.

"There are certain things you must know if you are to care for Mr. Weston," he started. "The first is that he has no family. He is the last of his bloodline and, therefore, you should immediately reject any 'family' that comes asking for financial help.

The Stranger In My BedWhere stories live. Discover now