Torn Fragility

Other people's tears embarrass us, for they remind us of how few troubles we really have.

I saw a curtain shift in one of the windows and I clutched the suitcase’s leather handle tighter in my clammy hands. A breeze stirred up and for a few blissful seconds I caught the scent of roses in bloom. But just as quickly the moment passed and the door in front of me was ripped open.

“What?!” a dumpy middle aged woman spat down at me. Flabbergasted I took a step backwards and bit my lip, my cheeks flaming.

“Oh.” She seemed to deflate and a softness crept upon her features. A smile like the sun lit her face and she held a plump hand out towards me. I looked at it uncertainly and shook it, the corners of my mouth twitching ever so slightly upwards.

“Miss Walters, I take it. It’s a great pleasure to meet you. I’m Hannah, just Hannah. Sorry for the scare just now; there are some troublesome children in this neighbourhood who never stop plaguing me. We really must have a gate installed. Come on in, do you want some tea?”

I had a sudden immense liking for this woman and followed her over the threshold after formalities had been said and done.

“I wasn’t expecting you just yet,” Hannah said leading me into a comfortable farm kitchen with an old fashioned fire range and white washed walls. It smelt of fresh bread and coffee.

It must be the invalid, Mr Smith, who drinks the coffee. I wonder when I’ll get to meet him? I sat down on the proffered seat at the round table and placed my suitcase down next to my feet.

“You can have the day off for today,” Hannah told me as she put a delicate china cup down in front of me. “Rooibos or Rooibos?” She chuckled. “I’m sorry, that’s all I drink so I don’t have anything else.”

“No, that’s fine. Thank you,” I breathed out when I smelt the familiar honey smell. Hannah poured the steaming liquid from a flowered tea pot into my cup and I gingerly blew on it and took a sip after ladling in sugar.

“I’m afraid you won’t meet Mr Smith today,” Hannah said and she held her own cup up to her lips. “He slept badly the day before and doesn’t want to be bothered.”

I shook my head. “I don’t mind. I’m in his employment after all.”

“Actually...” Hannah put her cup down and turned serious blue eyes on me. “I’m the one who’s hiring you.”

“Sorry?” I nearly spluttered and looked at her closely. “Ma’am is the nurse right?”

“I am, but I’m being paid ridiculous amounts just to keep the house and make sure he drinks his pain pills. I’m not good company for him, he doesn’t like talking and I figured, well...” she gave a unsure half hearted chuckle. “I should hire someone his own age just to make him start showing some interest again, start talking again.” She suddenly bent her graying head and put it in her hands. “For a year he hasn’t spoken. I’ve had all kinds of specialists called in but no one can help him. I’m being paid through the trust his uncle put up for him...”

I leant forward and pushed her still full cup towards her. The warm porcelain nudged her elbow and looking down she gave a surprised smile.

“Tea first, I know,” she whispered and took the cup. “I’m sorry I’m like this; my sister died yesterday and I have to face the whole funeral fiasco tomorrow on top of that...That’s why I want to make sure first if you can handle being alone for four days without any help from my side...But I can stay an extra day to make certain you’re settled in first.”

Two huge shocks. Maybe I bit off more than I could chew when I accepted this job. I was terrible at comforting people so I just stayed quiet until I could see she had calmed down.

How could I help the invalid to talk again when I didn’t speak much either or at all? I had just thought I would have menial tasks such as cooking and cleaning and maybe shopping for groceries. Now I had to do those along with looking after Mr Smith. Would he even allow me to do so?

“I’ve already asked Mr Smith if I could take leave for the funeral and if I could take it unto myself to employ a temporary to take care of the house. He allowed me to do so but I haven’t told him of the true purpose of employing you. Like I said, he only needs to take his meds and have regular meals. Please say yes, Rose! He won’t cause any trouble and I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”

I stared down at my folded hands on my lap. The small scar on my left hand from a dog bite when I had been small, formed a pale half moon on my skin. I traced it with my fingertip and looked up at Hannah’s pleading face.

I’m weak for tea and tears.



The room I was led into was small but immaculately clean. It smelt of lavender and the plain white bed linen was fine, with laced edgings. My room was on the second story and looked out on the overgrown front lawn. There was a small desk in the corner with an antique lamp and the a cupboard of drawers for my clothes. The walls were a warm cream and made me feel drowsier than I was.

“The bathroom’s down the corridor,” Hannah told me before telling me when dinner time was. The door clicked softly behind her and I sank down on the bed, luxuriating in the feeling of being completely alone.

I unpacked my suitcase, leaned a few of my dog eared books against the lamp and placed my huge sketchbook on the desk along with my water colours and pencils. I put my cell phone in the charger and walked towards the mirror that hung against the wall next to my bed.

I tried fixing my hair but quickly gave up; too stressed out about tomorrow to care. Hannah would be leaving me alone with Mr Smith, it felt strange calling someone my own age that especially seeing as he wasn’t my employer. What would he be like? Would he be angry that a stranger had to look after him, if only for a few days? Hannah had been living with him for almost a year and he must’ve become used to her ways, her cooking, her constant chattering.

I had declined the offer of dinner from her and now regretted it. But it was already nine o’clock and I didn’t want to wander down to the kitchen in this large empty lonely house.

So I opted for a quick shower then an early bedtime. I gathered my pyjamas and toiletry bag into my arms and clumsily opened the door with my elbow. The corridor was pitch black but right at the end I could see light squeezing out from underneath a door that I assumed must be the bathroom.

I crept towards the door, knocked carefully and when no one answered I entered what was clearly a bathroom. I sighed in relief and closed the door behind me after entering.

After a hurried nervous shower I found myself standing in the corridor once more, wearing cotton pyjama pants and an overlarge T-shirt splattered with paint.

I started to pad softly towards my door but then stopped suddenly, realising that I didn’t know which of the dozens of doors down this corridor belonged to my room’s. This must have once been the servant’s quarters, I thought, trying to calm myself down with needless information.

I walked past so many doors that I despaired of ever finding mine.

I stopped dead in my tracks, my heart pattering in my chest. I had heard someone crying. I retraced my steps wondering if it was Hannah. Maybe I could offer her some tea? Would she mind being bothered during such a private moment?

I stopped at a door so much alike my own. Timidly I knocked on the wooden surface and the sobbing stopped abruptly. I bit my lip and decided against my comfort plan. I stepped away from the door, opening random doors until I opened one unto mine. My hands shook as I dumped my clothes into my empty suitcase before getting into the bed.

I had heard the rare sound of a young man crying. Sobbing his heart out.

I hate tears.