Blood Brothers

I didn’t see her again for a few days, but the next time our paths crossed, she seemed much happier. Her steps were lighter and she had a real smile on her face. I gave a half-smile when I saw her, but her mind seemed to be elsewhere. I don’t even know if she saw me. It was a Saturday, and even though I had to be at work in about an hour, I felt I could at least find out what had changed to lighten her mood so much. I turned around and discreetly began following her. It was quickly becoming an art form.

I almost lost her in a large crowd of people heading the other direction, but I managed to weave my way around everyone easily enough. After a good fifteen minutes had passed, I took a chance to look at my surroundings and see where we had ended up. I had been so intent on keeping track of her that I didn’t notice we had crossed into the wealthier portion of the city, filled with houses and apartments whose prices easily outmatched my college tuition.

She didn’t appear intimidated by the scenery; in fact, her pace quickened considerably. I watched her turn the corner ahead and continue down the street, heading toward a large house at the end of the block. I knew what family owned it; everyone knew.

I paused at the edge of the corner of a busy street, now caught up in another crowd of well-dressed pedestrians. I felt self-conscious amongst such a group, but the minute I heard their whispered gossip, I immediately stopped wishing I were more like them.

“Who is that woman up ahead there?” asked a woman, pointing one elegant finger at a figure now on the other side of the street. I recognized her from the dark, dingy dress she always wore. It was Ms. Way, hauling along a bucket of cleaning supplies.

“I don’t know,” responded her friend, also looking the same direction. “She doesn’t belong here, though. Looks like she came straight from the poorhouse.” I frowned at their words. They had no idea what kind of situation she dealt with every day, or the kind of life she had suffered.

“You don’t think- she couldn’t possibly be…”

“The Iero family? No, they wouldn’t hire anyone like her, would they?”

“Of course not. They would never waste their money on her.”

I had heard just about enough. I started across the street once the light changed, taking off at a brisk pace to get away from them. I reached the pathway leading up to the Iero mansion and followed it up to the side of the house, careful to take long strides across the neatly trimmed grass. Luckily, no one seemed to notice, or at least no one said anything.

There was a large window set among the uniform, white-painted slats of wood on the side of the house. The lightweight curtains inside unfurled slowly in the gentle breeze floating through the partially open window. I stood closer to it, now hidden in the house’s shadow, and stayed silent so I could listen. I glanced inside, able to see straight through to the main doorway, and saw Ms. Way step through the gaping double doors and onto the reflective marble floor.

“This is a big house, Mrs. Iero,” she said, her light echoing throughout the hallways and reaching my ears a split second later.

“Call me Linda, please,” corrected Mrs. Iero. “And thank you, Mrs. Way, but I find it rather empty myself.” She walked outside and reentered seconds later, her arms loaded down with various shopping bags. As she set them down by the door, Ms. Way began unpacking her cleaning supplies. She didn’t seem shaken by the fact that Mrs. Iero had accidentally connected the title of a married woman to her name.

“My husband and I had planned to have many children running around, but we’ve had no luck,” continued Mrs. Iero. “And now that he’s gone on business, it’s even lonelier around here.” I shifted slightly to remain hidden, but caught a hint of a smile on Ms. Way’s face.

“You should consider yourself lucky. You can’t have kids, and I can’t stop having them!” she said with that smile still on her face. “I’ve got seven at home, and another on the way.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’m very lucky,” Mrs. Iero said sadly. “I’ve always wanted to be a mother. My husband says there’s no sense in adopting a child since it wouldn’t really be ours. He’s so stubborn sometimes.” She sighed as Ms. Way began dusting the various statues and antiques around the entry hall. I smiled sadly to myself. Most people would never accept a job like that, cleaning someone else’s house. But she was thankful for it, and that was more than I could say for any of those who had been insulting her.

I can’t say I wasn’t a little suspicious, because I was. The Ieros were notorious for being a frugal family, to say the least. They rarely spent money on anything but themselves, a word of gossip that I found proven true as Mrs. Iero pulled a brand new pair of shoes out of their box and held them up in one hand, admiring them. I rolled my eyes. I shuddered to think of what would happen if she ever did have a child. The poor thing would probably be treated worse than a dog. Thank goodness they didn’t own one of those, either.

Ms. Way froze suddenly as the dark-haired woman walked over to the nearest table and placed the shoes on top of its flawless wooden surface.

“What are you doing?” she asked incredulously.

“Well, I think they look much better in the light here-”

“That’s bad luck!” Ms. Way cried, racing over to the table. She swatted the shoes with one hand as if they were a bothersome fly, and they clumsily fell to the floor. Mrs. Iero looked at her crossly.

“What on earth are you talking about?!” she exclaimed. It was then that I realized how short Ms. Way really was- and how much Mrs. Iero towered over her. I felt intimidated enough just watching the scene. Mrs. Iero bent down to pick up the shoes, dusting them off needlessly. There was scarcely a speck of dust in the house from what I could see.

“It’s bad luck to put new shoes on a table,” Ms. Way explained in a softer tone, shrinking back from Mrs. Iero.

“That’s just a silly superstition,” she responded, rolling her eyes. Ms. Way seemed unconvinced. At that point I thought to check my watch, jumping a little in shock at what time it was. I took off back towards the sidewalk at a jog, doing a few mental calculations to decide how much time I had.

I knew I would be late.
-
“You’re late, Bryar,” said the sharp voice of my boss. I wanted to respond, but I was too busy gasping for air from having run so far. After a few deep breaths, I opened my mouth to speak.

“I was-”

“I don’t have time for your excuses,” he said crossly, pointing towards my desk. “Just get to work.” I gritted my teeth together to stop a biting response and walked over to my desk. There were three tall stacks of papers neatly arranged on one corner. And I knew I would have to carefully edit every single one of them if I planned on getting paid.

I worked for the local newspaper, editing various articles I didn’t care for. Most of them would never see the light of day again, anyway. Really I hoped to work at a publishing company one day – editing books – but I had to start somewhere. Besides, it helped pay for my college tuition, even if it was only a small amount. I kept changing my mind on the topic of becoming either a teacher or an editor, so I decided it would be a good idea to be prepared to do both.

Sighing, I pulled one piece of paper in front of me and planned to start looking over it, but before I could, I accidentally knocked half of another stack of papers fluttering to the floor. I blew a piece of hair out of my face in frustration. It was going to be a long day.