The moment that I met Chris in the kitchen that night, I already knew that he was born to annoy me.
Everytime I worked in the kitchen at night alone, he would suddenly just pop up beside the kitchen island with his chin resting in his hand, telling me about nonsense stuff and ask me stupid questions like:
"Do you like pineapples on pizza or not?"
I looked at him. Of all questions, of course he chose that particular one to ask me. Why? to irritate me. To piss the hell out me. To simply just slow me down with my work.
"Can't you see I'm working?" I asked. "Why don't you get out of here and ask your fellow bodyguards instead?"
"But its you I wanna ask," he said, an annoying smirk plastered on his face.
I sighed and rolled my eyes. When was he going to leave me alone?
The next morning, It was time for me to clean the library again. I had come to a conclusion that the boss was a sedate, serious man when he was alone, a much different personality from the one that he displays when he was out with other people. As I was standing outside the door of the library, I was practicing what to say in case he was in there again.
I practiced a smile and said in a low voice, "Hello Mr. Jackson! Good morning! How are you?"
Oh wait.
I shook my head. No---that was too enthusiastic. How about a simple "Good morning, Mr. Jackson."
I said it again one more time before I nodded. That's it.
I was holding the basket of cleaning materials on my right hand and a broom on the left. I was standing outside the library's door for about five minutes now but I still didn't go in. I was breathing deeply, nervous as ever. "I can do this," I whispered to myself.
"Relax Jane," I said again. I inhaled and exhaled to calm myself. "Relax."
I gripped the door handle and after counting one to three, I decided to finally open the door.
The hinges creaked as the door of the library opened widely. My eyes immediately looked around and then there he was. Just like what I had expected. The boss was sitting on his favorite chair. His face was covered by a big book that he was reading.
I gulped and collected myself. I took a deep breath before I finally said what I've been practicing to say outside. "G-good morning, Mr. Jackson." I bowed.
I saw him peaked through the book and looked at me for a second. His eyes met mine then he nodded.
No words, not even a smile. Just a nod.
I closed the door of the library. I cleaned this very library yesterday but now, oh gosh. It was messier than it was before. The books were, again, scattered on the floor. Ripped magazine pages were everywhere and the rest of the books were removed from the shelf.
How did this become so messy when I just cleaned this yesterday?
"Sorry for the mess," he said while still reading.
How could he manage to make the library this messy just by himself? I couldn't understand how he did it. Was he partying and moonwalking here all night or what?
I smiled. "It's okay, Sir."
l didn't have the right to complain and he didn't need to apologize for the mess that he did in this room. This was his library, and he could do whatever he want. He could turn the entire place upside down and I'd still clean it because I was a maid and that was what I was paid for.
I tied my hair up in a bun and I took a deep breath. Time to clean.
I picked up the books that were scattered on the floor and wiped them one by one with a soft cloth. I would read their titles, though. History. Philosophy of the Human Person. Even Human Anatomy. Interesting. I piled them up on a table and put them carefully in their respective shelves. I noticed that the shelves are a bit dusty so I grabbed the feather duster and cleaned them.
As I was doing my job, I was sensing his presence. I was cautious while cleaning, and conscious at the same time. I felt uncomfortable because I could sometimes see from my peripheral vision that he was looking at me.
Why was he looking at me?
Silence was common whenever you're in a library. The library that I used to go to in high school had a peaceful ambience and the silence in there was calming, that's why it had become my favorite place in school except for a fact that I was in love with books. I loved silence. But I had to admit that in this very moment, I didn't. The silence inside this particluar library was so ironically deafening, and I was itching to break it.
I wanted to talk but I knew I shouldn't. If a conversation between us was to start, the boss should be the one to initiate it. It was one of the rules.
My steps were silent as I was carrying a big black dusty book when it accidentally slid off my hand. It fell but I managed to grab it by the cover and I wished I hadn't because it ripped and literally seperated from the rest of the book.
The now coverless book fell to the floor in a thud. I was still holding the ripped cover, my eyes widened. The boss jerked his head to my direction upon hearing the soft thud when the book fell.
And my eyes widened even more.
He shot me a what-did-you-do look. He stared at the book on the floor then at its ripped cover in my hands.
"I-I'm sorry, Mr. Jackson," I immediately said. "It was an accident, I didn't---"
I picked up the book on the floor, put it on a table then I placed back its ripped cover. How the hell am I going to fix it? with a tape? a glue? a freaking stapler?
"That's my favorite book."
I stopped. Oh right. This particular book---the big black book that I just accidentally ripped the cover off---was his favorite.
I think I was just about to lose my job.
I didn't know what to do. My hands started shaking and I looked at him with an I-didn't-mean-it-please-don't-fire-me look on my face.
"You're Jane, right?"
I nodded, beads of sweat started forming on my forehead.
"Right," he said, sighing. "You're fired."
Everything around me seemed to stop. I tried to process what I just heard then I blinked. Twice. Thrice.
I swallowed. No.
No way.
"Pack your things," he said. "You're leaving tomorrow."
I stood there for a moment, unable to move and even to breathe. I was looking at his dead serious face.
No. I couldn't be fired. I need this job!
I felt my eyes started burning and I knew any moment I could cry but my tears retreated when the expression of his face changed and he suddenly started to laugh.
Yes, he laughed.
I almost dropped on my knees just to beg him to let me stay and not fire me and yet there he was, laughing.
I've been in this house for three weeks now but this was the first time, the very first time that I heard his laugh. He threw his head backwards and laughed his heart out with his eyes closed. Michael Jackson's laugh was sweet and genuine. My eyes were fixed on his face. I didn't know why but everything seemed to happen in slow motion.
Wait, why was he laughing?
"I'm just kidding, Jane," he said, still laughing. Some of his curly hair was now covering his face.
I didn't know if should laugh or what. I just stood there, looking at him, confused.
Uh, what's happening?
"A-am I really fired?" I finally asked, clarifying everything.
"Why would I fire you?"
"Because I ripped the cover of your favorite book?"
He laughed again.
Sweet laughs. So good to hear.
"I'm not going to fire you just for that," he said in the middle of laughing. "It's okay. It's old, anyway."
"Y-you're not mad at me, Sir?"
He shook his head, smiling.
Really?
"Your reaction was epic!" he said, grinning. "You should have seen your face!"
He flashed a sweet smile at me and for the first time, for the first damn time, my nerves calmed and I suddenly felt relived and comfortable in his presence. He laughed again. I laughed along. We laughed together for a moment as the nervousness that I felt vanished, as if his smile took it away.
I left the library with a smile on my face that day. I was happy to see the boss' fun and friendly side. Michael Jackson wasn't that serious at all, and most definitely, he wasn't a snob. Also, I discovered one thing: he's a prankster.