Sequel: The Secret Weapon ›
Status: Complete!
The Sake of Hope
A Lesson On Laundry
Zuko’s POV:
I didn’t understand my uncle. Here he was laughing and joking with this peasant girl while we had no more honor than she. Running, hiding- we were reduced to nothing but pathetic beggars. Just like her… I think Sake was her name.
I looked up at her from my tea. She had a pretty voice at least. She was probably good at singing. She was probably the token country girl, still bubbly and perfect and hopeful even though she’s been through so much. I started to dislike her already. I had this feeling she was going to be annoying. But, I also couldn’t help but look at her more. Her hair was brown but had an Indian red tint to it like the girls back on Kyoshi. She looked so tired; like she’d been working hard all day. As far as I knew she was just the maid. But, her forehead glistened with sweat and small strands and bunches of her hair that had escaped from whatever was holding it back stuck to it. Her eyes were big, round, and emerald green. Actually… they were gorgeous… for a peasant.
Finally she left to go help her aunt prepare dinner in the kitchen. She was just good at everything wasn’t she…
“Well, Lee, aren’t you going to drink your tea?” Uncle asked, just after finishing off the rest of his own.
I decided it’d be best not to argue, seeing as he’d beat me again, and we were within earshot of the others. So, I drank my tea in one gulp, a very rude and careless gesture, and, I couldn’t deny, it was pretty good. The mint went through my nose and for a minute, it did calm my nerves, which wasn’t an easy thing to do nowadays. But it didn’t smell like what it tasted like. I had a hint of a… flowery scent to it. The only thing I could think of would be her. I wondered if that’s what she smelled like…
“Would you like to go into town with me before supper?” Uncle asked, smiling as if it was completely normal. How could he be so oblivious? So ignorant?
“No, Uncle. I think I’ll stay here… take a nap or something,” and I got up from the table and left the dining room. Ha. A nap. I could barely sleep at night- let alone during the day.
When I walked through the kitchen, I expected her to look at me. To brush the hair out of her face and smile, encouragingly- falsely. But when I walked through, she was at the counter, chopping vegetables. She wiped her hands on her worn apron, cleared her throat simply, and she didn’t look up.
***
Sake’s POV:
“Dinner smells amazing, if I do say so myself,” I said proudly to Aunt Jun as she sipped her water. She smiled.
“You do. And it does,” and she chuckled. See, there were times where I didn’t mind my Aunt’s presence. Sometimes, it was even enjoyable. That is, when there aren’t children around and she’s not running around franticly. I went back to washing the tea cups.
“I heard Mushi enjoyed your tea. He works in a tea shop, you know? He probably knows his stuff. I guess his nephew works with him or something…” she trailed off and took another swig of her glass of water.
I could tell she was fishing for what I thought of Lee. I could tell she was expecting me to fess up to some girly crush on a boy I just met with a gaping scar across his face. She was so naive sometimes…
“I imagine he does,” was all I said.
“Where’s he got to anyway?”
“I don’t know, Aunt Jun. It’s none of our business.” I knew I wasn’t going to win. Anything I said made me an open target for some “mother-daughter”- or in this case “aunt- niece”- bonding moment. I was susceptible for defeat.
“Well, still doesn’t it make you wonder? Did you ever start to think about why he’s so quiet and sheepish?” She’d dropped the line and she was waiting for me to nibble. I tried my best to think of anything to avoid the worm.
Truth be told, I didn’t find Mr. Lee all that sheepish at all. Sure, he was quiet, but that didn’t automatically make it a frightened quiet, or a sad quiet. I had a theory. I was pretty sure Lee was angry. I was half sure he was the devil; Satan himself waiting to pounce. It made me smile, which was really strange, because, if that were true, that wasn’t at all funny.
“No. I never did.”
My back was to her, but I could feel the quirk of her eyebrow.
“You haven’t thought about him? At all?”
“Well, sure, some, but only,” Oh no… I took the bait. I must be blind… “normal things.”
She sensed the pause in my words. My epiphany only made things worse.
“What kind of normal things?” she said, slowly.
She was really starting to agitate me. Next thing, she was going to start talking about our wedding… I didn’t want to think about that. It was all too like Aunt Jun.
“The kind of normal things a person thinks about when she meets someone for the first time. They enter your mind. Nothing more. Stop fishing, Aunt Jun,” I said, putting the last cup up and drying my hands on my apron.
She didn’t look taken aback at all. More like she had some dark secret she wasn’t willing to share unless I begged her- which was funny, because she knew as well as I that there was nothing to be known.
“Now,” I started, “I’m going to finish the week’s wash,” and I partially stocked off.
I went down to the lower level that had all of the kids’ rooms. Aunt Jun separated them from the rest of the house for a reason… But as for now, I was down there to sort their laundry. I filled the basket with their shirts and carried it back upstairs, resting it on my knee as I walked. To my surprise, Aunt Jun was no longer at the table, but someone else was: Lee. I looked out the kitchen window and, sure enough, Aunt Jun was in her garden, pulling weeds. She probably left as soon as he came in…
I saw him look at me, and our eyes met for barely an excuse for a second. I think I saw him smirk, which drove me insane. Not because it was rude, but because, I smirked at the same time he did…
Instead of stopping to talk to someone I already knew had no interest in talking, I walked by and went straight to the laundry room. I shut the door so I could be in peace as I scrubbed.
I left multiple times to get the children’s pants, skirts, undershirts, and robes. By the time I was on my second batch of robes, the laundry room was so hot and sticky that I had to open the door. I knew by doing that, it might leave us susceptible to conversation, but it wasn’t that I was worried about. It was the awkwardness from lack of conversation (for I knew there wouldn’t be any talking at all.)
Every time I came back up the stairs he was different. The first two times he was drinking tea- my tea no less- and staring. Then he shut his eyes after his tea was gone. The last two times his head was down and I started to think he’d fallen asleep. And that alone was shocking because every minute the duck cooked in the oven the entire house was encrusted with a thick layer of its aroma. I couldn’t imagine how anyway could sleep through my aunt’s cooking.
This time when I walked past I almost dropped the basket. All of a sudden he sat up, and- God forbid- began to speak. I can’t explain why I was so excited to hear his voice. It was either because I liked the sound of it, or something hidden, deep inside me…
“Do you ever do anything but laundry?”
I stopped and looked at him. His gold eyes locked in what seemed like a fierce never-ending battle with my green ones. He seemed angry. Maybe annoyed. This boy was so weird…
“Do you ever do anything?” Maybe I was a bit harsh… but he was being rude, so I didn’t hold back.
It seemed to quiet him for a minute, but he wasn’t backing down, so he shook it off like he didn’t even hear it.
“I’ve been sitting here for at least an hour watching you come back and forth with a different basket of laundry every time. Do you have enough to clothe an army or something?”
“Actually,” I pointed out, “you couldn’t have watched me the whole time- your head was down some of the time.” I smiled when he didn’t reply, to let him know I was kidding. He sat back down.
“Well,” I started again, “There are nine kids running around this place. They… wear a lot of clothes I guess. Well… usually,” and I smiled again. This time, to my surprise, a hint of a smile shown back at me.
“How does it all fit in there?” he questioned.
“Have you never done laundry?”
“Only in a creek or something. Other wise the ma-” and he stopped and I could feel he was uncomfortable. I couldn’t imagine why, but since this was the first time he actually seemed to be alive I let it go and continued.
“Here,” and I set the basket on the table and opened the door as wide as it could go, implying that he followed.
Inside the laundry room there were six large basins full of water. Two were on stands that hung over flame burners. These were the ones that the washing was done in.
“See,” I pointed to one that was lit. “I light these one at a time so when one gets heated, I can heat the other while I wash something in the one with the heated water. Then, I can dump the one, and go to a fresh one that’s already been heated. In the mean time I heat the other and the process starts over again.” He seemed to understand, and even looked mildly interested.
“Why do you dump them in between loads?”
I tried not to grin back like he was stupid. In all honesty, it was a stupid question, but, then again, I’d been doing laundry since I was 6.
“So if the water is dirty, it won’t get something else even dirtier than it already was. That, and some colors fade water, which, in turn, fades whatever I put in next. That’s the same reason I have the other four basins here,” and I led him over to the other basins, full of water and clothes.
“Once they’re all soapy, I squeeze them out as best I can and then put them into fresh, unsoapy, water, so they can rinse more. They sit for a bit and then I rinse them again, and go hang them,” I smiled up at him, as if I was encouraging him to learn his laundry lesson. In all actuality, explaining to a refugee how to do laundry that he’s not going to do anyway really wasn’t how I expected to spend my Sunday. This was a little weird.
“Where do you hang them?” he asked, still sounding interested. I couldn’t help but believe he really did find this interesting, because he didn’t seem like the type of person who would lie to make me feel better- which would be pointless anyway, because I cared less than him.
“There’s a window in the linen closet upstairs that has a line stretching across to a tree that I put it on.”
“Oh.”
I went ahead and rung a batch out so I could have an empty basin. My fingers, wrinkled and raw again, squeezed and pinched the rough, wet fabric, draining every last drop of water that could be managed, from the threads. It took me a minute to realize that he was still standing there, watching me.
I didn’t understand my uncle. Here he was laughing and joking with this peasant girl while we had no more honor than she. Running, hiding- we were reduced to nothing but pathetic beggars. Just like her… I think Sake was her name.
I looked up at her from my tea. She had a pretty voice at least. She was probably good at singing. She was probably the token country girl, still bubbly and perfect and hopeful even though she’s been through so much. I started to dislike her already. I had this feeling she was going to be annoying. But, I also couldn’t help but look at her more. Her hair was brown but had an Indian red tint to it like the girls back on Kyoshi. She looked so tired; like she’d been working hard all day. As far as I knew she was just the maid. But, her forehead glistened with sweat and small strands and bunches of her hair that had escaped from whatever was holding it back stuck to it. Her eyes were big, round, and emerald green. Actually… they were gorgeous… for a peasant.
Finally she left to go help her aunt prepare dinner in the kitchen. She was just good at everything wasn’t she…
“Well, Lee, aren’t you going to drink your tea?” Uncle asked, just after finishing off the rest of his own.
I decided it’d be best not to argue, seeing as he’d beat me again, and we were within earshot of the others. So, I drank my tea in one gulp, a very rude and careless gesture, and, I couldn’t deny, it was pretty good. The mint went through my nose and for a minute, it did calm my nerves, which wasn’t an easy thing to do nowadays. But it didn’t smell like what it tasted like. I had a hint of a… flowery scent to it. The only thing I could think of would be her. I wondered if that’s what she smelled like…
“Would you like to go into town with me before supper?” Uncle asked, smiling as if it was completely normal. How could he be so oblivious? So ignorant?
“No, Uncle. I think I’ll stay here… take a nap or something,” and I got up from the table and left the dining room. Ha. A nap. I could barely sleep at night- let alone during the day.
When I walked through the kitchen, I expected her to look at me. To brush the hair out of her face and smile, encouragingly- falsely. But when I walked through, she was at the counter, chopping vegetables. She wiped her hands on her worn apron, cleared her throat simply, and she didn’t look up.
***
Sake’s POV:
“Dinner smells amazing, if I do say so myself,” I said proudly to Aunt Jun as she sipped her water. She smiled.
“You do. And it does,” and she chuckled. See, there were times where I didn’t mind my Aunt’s presence. Sometimes, it was even enjoyable. That is, when there aren’t children around and she’s not running around franticly. I went back to washing the tea cups.
“I heard Mushi enjoyed your tea. He works in a tea shop, you know? He probably knows his stuff. I guess his nephew works with him or something…” she trailed off and took another swig of her glass of water.
I could tell she was fishing for what I thought of Lee. I could tell she was expecting me to fess up to some girly crush on a boy I just met with a gaping scar across his face. She was so naive sometimes…
“I imagine he does,” was all I said.
“Where’s he got to anyway?”
“I don’t know, Aunt Jun. It’s none of our business.” I knew I wasn’t going to win. Anything I said made me an open target for some “mother-daughter”- or in this case “aunt- niece”- bonding moment. I was susceptible for defeat.
“Well, still doesn’t it make you wonder? Did you ever start to think about why he’s so quiet and sheepish?” She’d dropped the line and she was waiting for me to nibble. I tried my best to think of anything to avoid the worm.
Truth be told, I didn’t find Mr. Lee all that sheepish at all. Sure, he was quiet, but that didn’t automatically make it a frightened quiet, or a sad quiet. I had a theory. I was pretty sure Lee was angry. I was half sure he was the devil; Satan himself waiting to pounce. It made me smile, which was really strange, because, if that were true, that wasn’t at all funny.
“No. I never did.”
My back was to her, but I could feel the quirk of her eyebrow.
“You haven’t thought about him? At all?”
“Well, sure, some, but only,” Oh no… I took the bait. I must be blind… “normal things.”
She sensed the pause in my words. My epiphany only made things worse.
“What kind of normal things?” she said, slowly.
She was really starting to agitate me. Next thing, she was going to start talking about our wedding… I didn’t want to think about that. It was all too like Aunt Jun.
“The kind of normal things a person thinks about when she meets someone for the first time. They enter your mind. Nothing more. Stop fishing, Aunt Jun,” I said, putting the last cup up and drying my hands on my apron.
She didn’t look taken aback at all. More like she had some dark secret she wasn’t willing to share unless I begged her- which was funny, because she knew as well as I that there was nothing to be known.
“Now,” I started, “I’m going to finish the week’s wash,” and I partially stocked off.
I went down to the lower level that had all of the kids’ rooms. Aunt Jun separated them from the rest of the house for a reason… But as for now, I was down there to sort their laundry. I filled the basket with their shirts and carried it back upstairs, resting it on my knee as I walked. To my surprise, Aunt Jun was no longer at the table, but someone else was: Lee. I looked out the kitchen window and, sure enough, Aunt Jun was in her garden, pulling weeds. She probably left as soon as he came in…
I saw him look at me, and our eyes met for barely an excuse for a second. I think I saw him smirk, which drove me insane. Not because it was rude, but because, I smirked at the same time he did…
Instead of stopping to talk to someone I already knew had no interest in talking, I walked by and went straight to the laundry room. I shut the door so I could be in peace as I scrubbed.
I left multiple times to get the children’s pants, skirts, undershirts, and robes. By the time I was on my second batch of robes, the laundry room was so hot and sticky that I had to open the door. I knew by doing that, it might leave us susceptible to conversation, but it wasn’t that I was worried about. It was the awkwardness from lack of conversation (for I knew there wouldn’t be any talking at all.)
Every time I came back up the stairs he was different. The first two times he was drinking tea- my tea no less- and staring. Then he shut his eyes after his tea was gone. The last two times his head was down and I started to think he’d fallen asleep. And that alone was shocking because every minute the duck cooked in the oven the entire house was encrusted with a thick layer of its aroma. I couldn’t imagine how anyway could sleep through my aunt’s cooking.
This time when I walked past I almost dropped the basket. All of a sudden he sat up, and- God forbid- began to speak. I can’t explain why I was so excited to hear his voice. It was either because I liked the sound of it, or something hidden, deep inside me…
“Do you ever do anything but laundry?”
I stopped and looked at him. His gold eyes locked in what seemed like a fierce never-ending battle with my green ones. He seemed angry. Maybe annoyed. This boy was so weird…
“Do you ever do anything?” Maybe I was a bit harsh… but he was being rude, so I didn’t hold back.
It seemed to quiet him for a minute, but he wasn’t backing down, so he shook it off like he didn’t even hear it.
“I’ve been sitting here for at least an hour watching you come back and forth with a different basket of laundry every time. Do you have enough to clothe an army or something?”
“Actually,” I pointed out, “you couldn’t have watched me the whole time- your head was down some of the time.” I smiled when he didn’t reply, to let him know I was kidding. He sat back down.
“Well,” I started again, “There are nine kids running around this place. They… wear a lot of clothes I guess. Well… usually,” and I smiled again. This time, to my surprise, a hint of a smile shown back at me.
“How does it all fit in there?” he questioned.
“Have you never done laundry?”
“Only in a creek or something. Other wise the ma-” and he stopped and I could feel he was uncomfortable. I couldn’t imagine why, but since this was the first time he actually seemed to be alive I let it go and continued.
“Here,” and I set the basket on the table and opened the door as wide as it could go, implying that he followed.
Inside the laundry room there were six large basins full of water. Two were on stands that hung over flame burners. These were the ones that the washing was done in.
“See,” I pointed to one that was lit. “I light these one at a time so when one gets heated, I can heat the other while I wash something in the one with the heated water. Then, I can dump the one, and go to a fresh one that’s already been heated. In the mean time I heat the other and the process starts over again.” He seemed to understand, and even looked mildly interested.
“Why do you dump them in between loads?”
I tried not to grin back like he was stupid. In all honesty, it was a stupid question, but, then again, I’d been doing laundry since I was 6.
“So if the water is dirty, it won’t get something else even dirtier than it already was. That, and some colors fade water, which, in turn, fades whatever I put in next. That’s the same reason I have the other four basins here,” and I led him over to the other basins, full of water and clothes.
“Once they’re all soapy, I squeeze them out as best I can and then put them into fresh, unsoapy, water, so they can rinse more. They sit for a bit and then I rinse them again, and go hang them,” I smiled up at him, as if I was encouraging him to learn his laundry lesson. In all actuality, explaining to a refugee how to do laundry that he’s not going to do anyway really wasn’t how I expected to spend my Sunday. This was a little weird.
“Where do you hang them?” he asked, still sounding interested. I couldn’t help but believe he really did find this interesting, because he didn’t seem like the type of person who would lie to make me feel better- which would be pointless anyway, because I cared less than him.
“There’s a window in the linen closet upstairs that has a line stretching across to a tree that I put it on.”
“Oh.”
I went ahead and rung a batch out so I could have an empty basin. My fingers, wrinkled and raw again, squeezed and pinched the rough, wet fabric, draining every last drop of water that could be managed, from the threads. It took me a minute to realize that he was still standing there, watching me.