SHORT STORY: Maiden Maid

Aaron Wu (ISB 12)

A closeted aspiring writer, Aaron Wu can be found in the gym or at the pool, where he dons his persona as the well loved Aquatic Raptor.

In his Buddy! debut, Aaron showcases his surprising literary talent. His romantic short story “Maiden Maid” is sure to charm all audiences.

The hours seemed to drag on like a clock with broken hands, I was only 35, but the job had taken its toll in making me look like a withering redwood tree. It was the annual dinner party at Mark & Co's headquarters, and as the CEO and founder, it was only right if I displayed my pleasantries to all our clients and staff. At last, the hour had finally come to show the guests out, I was exhausted. As I stood by the door, shaking hands and extending my gratitude for their presence, I could feel the stiff americano's effects slowly wearing off into thin air. 

"Have a goodnight Ms. Chen!" I waved politely as I shut the bronze door to the entrance of our building.

"It truly has been a long day for you, hasn't its Mr. Mark?" a soft voice said from behind me. 

I swiveled around on my heels to notice the most beautiful young women I had ever set eyes upon standing there in front of me. She looked as if she was in her mid 20's, her dark brown eyes twinkled as she brushed a perfectly flowing strand of hair behind her ear. Her index finger held a small silver ring, but the rest of her hand was spotless. From her outfit, I could tell that she worked as a maid in our company as the white apron strung around the tightly fit black dress gave it away. Her name tag read Charlotte Teresina; what a unique name it was. Regardless, I was mesmerized by her. When she smiled me, it was as if heaven's gates had burst open for just a fraction of a second to let her out into the world. It could have been a good minute before I was able to form an answer. 

"Indeed, it has been, thank you so much for staying late and helping with the dinner," I replied, smiling. She gave a small bow and retreated back to the kitchens. 

That night I couldn't sleep. The thought of her kept popping back into my head as if taunting me in my dreams. Who is she? What is her name? How could someone with her beauty possibly be working as a maid? Is she in a relationship? The questions dragged my mind around the room as I pondered through the night. 

The next day was as uneventful as most office days. I consulted with clients, answered phone calls, attended meetings, the same dull routine of any CEO. As I headed to my blacked-out Rolls Royce waiting to take me home, I saw her. She was sitting at the bus stop holding her tattered knock off designer handbag as she looked on to the oncoming traffic. I instructed my chauffeur to drive over to check on her. As I pulled up beside her and stepped out of the car, she looked surprised, perplexed, and mostly shocked.

"Would you like a ride? I insist." I said with a tone that may almost come out as commanding.

Bystanders stared some in curiosity some in jealousy. Who was this laborer who was so special that a man of many figures would consult to her? She looked at me with a hint of confusion, almost as if searching for hidden clues on what I could possibly want from her. 

"No, Mr. Mark, but thank you so much for your benevolent gesture," she eventually replied. She gave me a meager smile almost as if trying to magnify the locked library of my emotions.

Her answer hit me like a punch to the gut. It truly bewildered me to face rejection. Usually, when women knew of my economic stature, they would throw themselves at me, yet here I was faced with an ordinary lady who showed no sign or interest whatsoever to my advances. 

I forced a smile and said, "Mark, just call me Mark." I sauntered back to my car still in utter shock of what had just happened.

The next day she didn't show for work, and the following day the situation repeated itself. I began casually asking around the office of here whereabouts, attempting to conceal my desperate inquisition and hoping to find anyone or anything that would tell me where she was. Had she quit? I began to ask myself. 

A week had passed, and there were still no signs of Charlotte. I was getting increasingly worried. Had it been something I had said? Did I intimidate her that day when we had the encounter at the bus stop?

Knock knock knock.

I had been so submerged with my thoughts that I had not noticed a young intern standing at my door waiting for me to acknowledge him. 

"Sir," he said quietly, "I know you have been searching for Charlotte. Why is that, may I ask?" 

I looked at him carefully, I could sense no anger, fear, or concern, just pure curiosity. I told him that I was looking for her as she had left some of her equipment in my office room; it was a very futile attempt at covering up a lie. 

The intern thought for a moment shrugged undoubtfully and said: "Well, if you are still wondering, I had checked the attendances and discovered that Charlotte has been sick with severe pneumonia and has been hospitalized. It seems that during the current winter, her house is too cold, and she can't afford to heat it; thus, she hasn't been feeling well". With that, he nodded his head and politely left the room. 

My hands quivered and cramped as my heart race beat faster and faster and faster. 

I called to my secretary, who scrambled to her feet like a royal British guard. When under pressure my tone could truly sound demonically loud. I demanded that she find out which hospital Charlotte resided at. 

30-minutes later.

My secretary handed me a hastily scribbled address. It read: 12-Roseblede Avenue National Hospital, New York City.It had been barely half an hour, yet the wait felt as if Eternity was exerting his energy at full power.

It was half-past midnight by the time I had summoned the courage to step out of my sanctuary of a house and into the car. The hot chocolate that I had made Charlotte sat cozily in the cupholder of my Porsche 911. The car was a flagrant flaunt of status, yet based on my limited encounters with Charlotte, I knew she wouldn’t care about my financial position. To be honest, I had absolutely no idea what she would appreciate, I just based my answers upon what I would desire when ill. Sitting shotgun to me was a small wool blanket wrapped around a big teddy bear. It truly was a sight to see. I felt as if had taken a trip down memory lane to when I was a young boy sitting cuddled up with a blanket and a stuffed toy.

With the address to the hospital locked into my phone, I began the tedious drive. I was worried that she would be mad at my appearance at her bedside or that I had overstepped the professional work environment. Yet it didn't matter, I was worried about her and nothing was going to stop me from seeing her. When I arrived at the infirmary, I could tell that it had not been well renovated in many years. The plaster was torn from the walls, and the paint had faded from the many years that were spent battling the elements. The windows were cracked in many corners and filled with grime and dirt. How could anyone possibly consider this a place of healing? I muttered echoingly to myself. 

I stumbled through the hospital doors and told the receptionist that I needed to visit the patient by the name Charlotte Teresina. 

“Visitation hours have long passed, if you want to see a patient come back tomorrow at 3pm!” He said with an edge of hatred in his voice.

He was about 6’2 and easily weighed 200lb. The growling expression that yelped from his eyes told me that I wouldn’t be able to say anything to persuade him. It was late and I had no intentions of leaving, so I reached into my back left pocket and pulled out a hundred dollar bill. 
“It’s yours if you take me to her”. I replied confidently.

He looked at the bill and looked back at me. Eventually he caved, like they all do when working a minimum wage job in the middle of the night.

“Right this way sir!” He beamed to me as he snatched Ben Franklin from the palm of my grasp.
I walked up to her hospital door, hugging the teddy bear and blanket with one hand and balancing the hot chocolate with the other. I couldn't help imagining what people would think if they had seen me. Fortunately, it was the middle of the night, and all the other patients were asleep. 

Knock knock knock

The sound erupted through the hallway, scaring the daylights out of a stray kitty that managed to sneak in. 

The door opened, and there she stood wearing a thick robe and small wool mittens. Her nose was bright red, and her lips were chapped. She looked exhausted, lonely, and yet still just as beautiful as I remembered. When she saw me standing there, I could see the fear spread through her face. 

"I'm truly sorry, Mr. Mark, I have – have been sick the past few days--- so I couldn't come into work," she stuttered in quickly broken phrases. 

I suppose that in her mind, I had come to relieve her of her job. Then she registered the circumstance. It was well past midnight, and her boss was at the hospital visiting her holding a blanket, a large cup of hot chocolate, and a teddy bear that had the words "Warmy Fuzzy"stitched onto its chest. 

She looked lost at first, but a small inch of smile gradually crawled across her face. "Is this all for me...?" She blushed and asked curiously. 

" I heard that you were sick and thought that you would need something to help you feel better," I muttered nervously, "sorry for bothering you." 

I hastily set the things down just inside her room, hoping not to overstay my welcome, and said silently: "If you ever need anything, just let me know." I noticed that embarrassment had taken control of my face. Never once in any meeting or encounter had I been self-conscious of my appearance. Yet in this moment, I was a perfect concoction of an anti-social being thrown onto a stage.

As I turned to leave, cussing myself mentally of how foolish I was to think that this was a good idea, she rushed out of the room and grabbed my arm. 

She looked down at her feet and said gently: “Please stay with me."