new maid

What had happened was this. The lady that had worked at their house for well over twelve years, almost the age of the boy, that lady had become pregnant, and six months in, she could work no longer. So she went home, and they were in desperate need of a new maid.

It had been towards the end of the monsoon season, barsaat, when rains fell every day, the air was wet, the mud was soft, the smell of banyan trees and green and mud and earth was everywhere. Where would they find someone. The parents had panicked. They could not upset their schedules. Who would drop their child to school, pick him up, make his school snacks for him so early. They panicked. They called everyone they knew. But no one could recommend anyone.

The very next day after their maid had left, a woman had shown up at the door. Poor, scarf covering her head. She stood trembling under the rain, they could see from the camera at the door. They let her in. She told a harrowing tale. Her husband did not work. All day, he would sit at home and watch tv and drink soda and eat everything placed in front of him and generally be in a bad mood. She worked, but the child at the place she worked at, hit her, and he was growing up and she was becoming more and more afraid of him.

She stood by the heater, not daring to move her hands, but the warmth spreading through her body as the parents listened on a sofa in front of her. The boy was around the corner of the living room, and he could hear every word as well. Outside, rain dripped loudly down from the heavens. The smell of earth and earthy things was pervasive enough that it found its way inside the house as well. It tasted natural. Nice.

She had a child to feed, and they realized she was the same age as their own, if a little bit younger. She could barely feed her child. She did not have enough for herself. And her husband would hit her if she could not feed him. She was rail thin, dark circles around her eyes. Her hair had lost its luster. Her eyes were dimming.

They gave her a job. More than they had paid the other maid. And let her into their house. A week later, the sun was bright and nice. The boy had gone out to play soccer with his friends for the first game since the monsoons. The first one without the worry of rain falling, at least. It was a beautiful Sunday. The parents had slept in, then they rung the maid inside, and told her to make them breakfast. The sunlight glistened as it entered their room, it was a beautiful day. They had just found out they were expecting another baby. And no one knew yet.

She brought in the food.

The mother ate slowly. The father was a fast eater. Around the same time, they felt drowsy, put the trays aside, and fell asleep.

The maid collected the laptop, the jewelry in the closets, tore some off the mother, took the father’s wallet, and left.

They would both wake up in the hospital. The father would take a while longer than the mother. What they would not realize for a while, and what would bring the mother to wails, and the father to a stoic, painful silence, was that they had lost the child they were expecting.