Mae

──────⊹⊱Spring, 1944⊰⊹──────

“Mae, you have to listen to what young master Lynn tells you.” My mother scolded. She had her hands on her hips, apron tight around her waist, full of sewing equipment stuffed into those pockets.

I had a feeling that if I kept on refusing, she would eventually tie me up with those threads like a puppet, so that she could finally control me.

But I understood her reasoning. Before us, my grandparents were the head servants of the household, and before them, their own grandparents had taken on the job. I’d seen my family carry on the legacy, continuously keeping their connections with Westley and Modiano for years.

It wasn’t what I’d wanted.

I just wanted friends. I wanted someone to play with, not someone who would boss me around.

Crossing my arms defiantly at her, I shook my head and replied, “No, no, no, no, no—!” With a stomp of my foot, I kept my eyes to the ground, tracing the patterns of the stone, trying not to cry. I didn’t want to look at her.

She must have sensed my growing anger, because she bent low to make eye contact with me. Although she was always certain to win an argument, I was much feistier than anyone she ever had to deal with, and I knew that more than anybody.

Sighing, she grabbed onto my shoulders, to make sure I was listening. “My love, you have to obey the wishes of our employer. He is second in line to the title, so we must have you training as his assistant already—”

“I don’t want to be an assistant.” I grumbled, still not looking at her. “I want to go to a real school. I don’t want to work for the people in this house. I want to . . .”

I just want a friend . . . 

It was so hard to tell her this for some reason. Probably because I felt so weak towards the adults who argued with me, and solely because they were older than me.

My words felt like they never had any impact.

This was the hundredth argument I’d had with her about this subject. I was not like the kids who could go to public school, and I wasn’t like the kids who could plan their futures with no limitations. It was terrible.

More than anything, I wanted to just escape, to run away from the family who seemed to have a grasp on my own. I didn’t want to understand why our relationship to them was so important, when in reality all I cared about was what I wanted.

That was all that mattered.

I was the one that mattered.

Could she see that? In her eyes, she was doing this so that I could have a reliable future. My mother was only looking out for me, but how could I tell her that I didn’t need any of it?

I could not. “I can’t,” I fisted my hands. “Mom, I don’t want to listen to him.”

Shushing me, she tried to calm me down, “Love, please.” She pleaded. “It’s his first time coming to this house since his mother—” Her words suddenly stopped. She had almost said something that she would have regretted.

But I knew what she had been about to say. I’d heard other servants talking about the boy who would soon live in the house with Alexander and Christopher.

That boy’s mother had died only a week ago, though I had no idea how. Now, I had to be trained to obey his every command and grant his every wish.

I didn’t want him. I hated him.

“I hate him.” My eyes began to sting, and eventually a single tear rolled down my cheek. I couldn’t help it. I wasn’t getting what I wanted.

This was what I’d been born and raised to do. I had to become a servant to the family, and both of my parents were adamant about it.

“Let’s go write a letter to your dad, love.” She took my wrist, but I snatched it back.

When I looked to see her reaction, my face twisted into anger at her expression of disbelief. Why was she so surprised that I didn’t want to follow her? Why was it so shocking to them that I wanted a different life?

“Leave me alone.” I said, under my breath. I couldn’t help the new string of tears that cascaded down my face. No longer looking at her, I stomped my foot one last time in defiance and walked away into the garden, where the field of flowers were tall enough for me to hide and run away successfully from her.

I was sorry for myself, but I was mostly sorry towards her. I was sorry that she had a defiant son who didn’t listen. I was sorry that I had not been what she wanted.

Crumpling onto my knees, my face hit the grass when I walked a fair distance away from where we had been.

It was so unfair.

And why?

──────⊹⊱Summer, 1945⊰⊹──────

“Mae, is there something that you’d like to have?”

Christopher, the third Westley child, continued playing with his toy train as I waited by the door for my grandmother, who was running late. Mr. George Westley was returning from a trip abroad in Italy, where Mr. Yora Linda Modiano and Miss Alexandra Modiano lived.

The child in front of me had been left behind. It felt like he was constantly alone, ever since his own mother had disappeared five years ago, when France had been invaded.

“I will give you anything you want if you become friends with my big brother.” He gave me a cheerful grin as he showed me his collection of toys.

His room was spacious, and filled to the brim with lovely things. Though I noticed that the only thing he kept truly close to his heart was the blue ribbon that tied back his long golden hair.

I was not supposed to ask about that.

“I will not be friends with your brother because that is not allowed.” I said.

The young boy asked me curiously, “Why not?”

“It is not appropriate.” I held my hands behind my back, breathing out tiredly. I’d been told to look after the child for fifteen minutes. It was annoying.

Pursing his lips, he rose and walked to me so that he could show me his toy collection more easily. Dolls, trains, and anything his father could get a hold of, even during wartime.

Nothing could convince me to ask for anything that he was holding. I didn’t want any of it, but I doubted he understood that.

“And what if Lynn ordered you to be his friend?” Christopher said. It had sounded almost ominous.

I scowled at the boy, “That’s not nice.”

The young child hung his head low, blonde curls covering his face, but then bouncing away when he looked at me with those light blue eyes apologetically, “I know, Mae.” He reached out to me, asking to hold my hand silently. “I’m sorry.”

Knowing that his apology was sincere, I grasped onto his small hands and said, “It’s okay.”

Looking past him, I watched as the only opened window in the room spilled in a rush of cool air, allowing the white curtains to billow out.

It’d been a year since my training began, and I despised it.

But most of all . . . I was scared of it.

──────⊹⊱Fall, 1949⊰⊹──────

“Mae . . . !”

I ignored the voice coming from below me. I’d hidden up in a tree for a reason, and that reason was to get away from anything and anybody. That was why cats did it. I knew that because I’d grown up with a cat who escaped to the trees in the afternoon, to leave behind the pestering humans below.

There was one pesky human underneath me, far and away on the grassy ground. We were the only ones out there in the garden. The other children were on holiday, while Alexander was on another business trip with his father. That meant only the annoying human on the ground, and I, were the only children wandering the gardens of the grand estate.

I didn’t want to have anything to do with my employer, much less during the holiday season. I’d thought it was cold enough to shake him off outside, so that I could find some peace in between my shifts as his assistant.

My plan had proved to be a failure, since he was grasping onto the tree and shaking it, in an attempt to get me to come down.

Taking a short look at the boy below, I took in the fact that his nose was beginning to grow red from the cold, and his usually tidy dark blonde hair was windswept and peeking from beneath a knitted beanie. He’d taken his gloves off to grasp onto the tree more firmly, which was stupid because even his fingers were becoming red as well.

When our eyes locked, I glared at the deep blue color in his irises. I’d concluded that they were the color of the deep ocean. The same ocean I’d seen during my solo trips to the beach in the summer.

Unfortunately, he always seemed to have time to follow me all the way to the seaside too.

“Sir, you are making a fool of yourself out here.” I pointed out. “Can you not see that you are second in line to the Westley family fortune? Are you not embarrassed to be chasing after a servant to play?”

He looked up at me with big innocent eyes and rosy cheeks. As always, I’d expected him to say something considerate, but I held in a burst of laughter when he simply yelled out, “What?”

“The buffoon can’t hear me.” I muttered, returning back to my opened book.

“Yes I can!” He quipped with a warm laugh.

Surprised, I closed the book with a snap, though I’d lost my grip and it fell down to the ground, but not before my employer, Lynn, caught it instantly.

He raised it up triumphantly, exclaiming, “I’ve got your book!”

“I can see that.” I said, more to myself. I was irritated beyond belief.

“So please come down now! I won’t give it back until we play a few games!” He dared to say.

This was Lynn Faraway Westley. He was a tall boy, now taller than Alexander, with a bright disposition and a knack for trying to make everything positive. He was too extroverted for me to handle, especially when I tried to conduct proper tutoring sessions with him.

I couldn’t get past our math reviews without him constantly asking me how I was or how my days have been.

He wanted to be my friend. I was aware of that. Though, it was impossible.

The adults would punish us for having a deeper relationship than what we currently had.

“There’s nothing you can do to convince me of anything, Lynn Faraway.” I exclaimed, raising my chin up at him.

I could imagine his deviously warm smile aimed directly at me for that comment.

“Okay,” He said, raising his hands up in the air. “I guess I’ve got to tell my dad that you’re my new friend now. He would love that—”

“Lynn Faraway!” I growled, but that had been my first mistake.

Without a moment to spare, my balance on the branch disappeared, and I found myself plummeting to the earth within seconds.

I had been a fool to listen to him. The faster I grew up, the faster I would be able to leave his side.

I wasn’t going to stay in Westley manor forever. I wasn’t going to be by his side forever. I was going to . . .

Expecting to feel pain, I instead felt less of that and more of something warm and soft underneath me.

When I opened my tightly shut eyes, I saw that the foolish boy had broken my fall by diving to the ground before I could. Only my chest had landed on his, whereas my legs had fallen on the lumps of cold wet grass that’d collected along the roots of the tree.

My book was still in his left hand, his nails digging into the cover. He must’ve been in a lot of pain, because his eyes were closed, teeth gritted as he said, “ . . . ouch.”

I took him by his shoulders and moved to hover above him, “Lynn, you idiot!” I shook him enough that he finally looked back at me. I could see his reddened nose even closer, and realized that it was too cold outside for him to be messing around. I couldn’t let him get sick. “Why are you doing this—!”

He hooked his fingers into the belt loop of my jeans and rolled me over so that he could tower over me instead. His triumph was short-lived, because I continued to shake him by his jacket now as he tried to speak, “Mae . . . I—I get it, I’m sorry~!”

“Not sorry enough!” I tossed him back to his original place, though not before he successfully pinned me to the ground again.

We were muddy, cold, and our faces were red from the intense Fall breeze . . .

. . . but he was still smiling.

I let my head fall back into the grass, to stare at the grey sky.

Lynn brought his face closer to mine as my eyes widened at our close proximity. We’d only ever been this close when I tutored him. “Hey.” He said. I could see his breath puff out as he spoke.

Without my intention, my cold fingers had somehow gotten to the base of his neck where his shoulders met. He hadn’t brought a scarf, thus his warm skin was a relief to the lack of feeling I had in my hands.

“Hey.” I replied, not knowing what else to say.

This was the first and only time a stranger had come this close to me. I could feel his pulse beating along his neck under my fingers. I could see his blue eyes more clearly than ever. And I could make out the features in his face that I always tried to ignore when I saw him.

I didn’t want to look at him anymore.

I didn’t want to accept that he was kind.

I had to get out of there. I had to escape.

Hurriedly, I tried to look away, but he made sure we kept our eyes on one another. “You okay?” He asked.

I blinked, and turned my head to break our gaze. “You’re going to catch a cold.”

It was all I could say to him.

He did nothing but tilt his head so that we could be face to face. Once more, I averted my attention elsewhere.

Lynn Faraway was restless. I was, too.

I just had to give him a chance, and then all of my walls would come crumbling down.

I could have a friend, if I really wanted to.