Pam bowed and headed upstairs.
Sylvia simply sat at her empty table, feeling adrift.
What was happening?
Her life had purpose and direction a week ago.
She had had a goal and was striving toward it with strength and determination.
Now, having achieved the wealth and success she had craved for so long, she felt lost.
Untethered.
She was completely free to live the life of her dreams, and she felt only a yawning emptiness.
She walked to the glass back door and looked out across her spacious new backyard.
She saw the weed-dotted patch where she planned to start her garden.
It seemed like such a reasonable, even relaxed goal just yesterday.
Now, it just looked like a lot of effort for no real reward.
She walked upstairs, suddenly wondering why on earth she had willingly moved into a two-story house.
She intended to head into her music room but found herself drawn back to her bedroom instead.
She jumped a little when Pam emerged from her room, her arms full of her wet bedding.
“All sorted, Mistress! Enjoy!” she said, taking the big wad of wet sheets downstairs.
Sylvia walked in to find that her sheets and blankets had already been replaced.
She couldn’t recall whether she had spare bedding in the house or not,
but clearly, she must have.
Her bed looked good as new.
She sniffed around but discovered only a light, minty scent remained.
She sat down on the inviting bed and turned on the TV.
Pam clearly knew her way around cleaning.
The local news came on, and Sylvia sat and watched, not really paying attention.
Her mind just refused to focus.
At some point, Pam came in with the bed tray, and she ate her lunch while watching TV.
Pam gave her another foot massage as she sat and stared at the screen.
Eventually, she found that at some point the news show had ended, and a cartoon had come on.
She glanced at the clock.
It was four in the afternoon.
She slapped herself on the cheek.
She felt awful.
How many hours had she just spent staring at the TV in a trance?
She found that she couldn’t definitely recall anything that had passed before her on the screen.
Not one news story, not one world event, not even the plot of the simplistic cartoon she had just spent who-knows-how-long watching.
She couldn’t even recall what she had eaten for lunch.
It had all gone past in a blur.
The day had been utterly wasted.
She felt so ashamed of herself.
Determined not to waste the dregs of her day, she got up and headed into her music room.
There was her expensive violin, waiting on its stand next to her sheet music.
She had thought about hiring a professional tutor,
However, she wanted to see how far she could get on online tutorials and YouTube videos alone.
She sat down on the elegant padded stool,
gently tucked the instrument against her neck,
rested the bow against the string,
and began to practice.
An hour later, she was ready to throw the wretched instrument against the wall.
Every motion seemed to produce nothing but squeals,
shrieks, and scratches.
She couldn’t remember feeling so frustrated.
When Pam knocked gently at the door, she was more than a little relieved.
“Dinner is ready, Mistress.
Would like it served in here,
the bedroom,
or the dining room?”
Sylvia sighed.
Maybe this was her problem.
Pam was making her life too easy, removing all consequences of her laziness.
“Thank you, Pam.
I’ll be down to the dining room soon.”
“Very good, Mistress.
Would you like me to clean up in here?” she asked.
Sylvia glanced around, a little confused.
The music room was practically unused.
There wasn’t a thing out of place.
Oh…
With dawning horror, Sylvia realized that her pants were wet.
The padded stool she sat on was soaked, and a small puddle had formed on the floor around it.
How on earth had she done this and not even noticed?
She felt her cheeks swell as the embarrassment washed over her.
She stared at Pam.
If she was the least bit surprised or concerned, she showed no sign of it.
She simply stood in the doorway, waiting for an answer to her question.
“I…oh gawd!
Uh, ye…yes, please!” Sylvia stammered.
She followed Pam to the kitchen, where the maid laid down a towel on her chair.
Sylvia sat down, still absolutely stunned with embarrassment.
Sylvia was so mortified by her accident, she didn’t even notice what her maid had prepared for dinner until she set the platter down in front of her.
She stared at it, her humiliation rapidly turning into anger.
“What is the meaning of this?
What are you playing at, Pam!”
She had meant to speak in an angry shout,
but in her own ears, it sounded more like a whine.
“Is there a problem, Mistress?” asked Pam, a quizzical expression on her face.
“This! Is this what you call a dinner!” demanded Pam.
Her voice still sounded whiny.
On the platter in front of her was a pile of homemade glazed doughnuts with pink icing.
There were at least a dozen on the plate.
Nothing else. That was her dinner.
“I’m terribly sorry, Mistress!
Do you not like doughnuts?” asked the maid, fear evident in her voice.
“What is going on!
What are you doing to me!
Who are you!” screamed Sylvia,
pushing back from the table and standing up.
“I’m Pamela Winters, Mistress. I told you.
If you don’t want the doughnuts, I can prepare something else.” stammered the maid.
She looked down as she spoke.
She seemed deeply hurt by her Mistress’s rejection of her meal.
“Don’t give me that crap!
You’re up to something here!
All of this is wrong!
I knew something was up the moment I saw you!
Why are you really here?
What are trying to do?”
Pam only stared at her feet.
“I…I don’t know what to say!”
She sounded like she was on the edge of tears.
For a moment, Sylvia doubted herself.
Pam looked so frightened and remorseful.
She didn’t have any idea what she even suspected about the maid.
It was just that she was strange, and whatever was happened had started when she had walked through the door.
Sylvia hardened her heart against the younger woman’s distress.
“Leave my home! Right now! Get out!” shouted Sylvia.
Pam seemed to shrink where she stood.
“Please, Mistress…I don’t understand!” said Pam.
She was really crying now.
“I said get out!
Are you deaf?
Get out!” Sylvia advanced on the crying woman and grabbed her by the arm.
She tugged with all her strength, but she couldn’t move the petite maid an inch.
Sylvia had such an advantage in size that it ought to have been easy, but it was like trying to move a bronze statue.
Pam pressed a hand against her Mistress’s chest, and with no visible effort, sent her tumbling onto the floor.
