Maid - Stephanie Land Page 0,55

given to whom. In my time working as a maid, I’d seen various decluttering projects—garages parceled out in preparation for yard sales or downsizing. But this wasn’t the same kind of project. This was an afterlife project—Wendy had been putting things aside for relatives to have after her death.

I’m not sure if Wendy knew how much time she had left to live, but if she did, she never told me. The extra work she hired me for during the month of July is how Mia and I survived the unexpected expenses from moving and a $300 car repair that would otherwise have sent me spiraling. I picked her weeds, sorted piles, and deep cleaned areas of her house to save her family from having to do it all. Wendy was so matter-of-fact about asking me to fulfill these duties. I admired her, as weird as it seemed, hoping I’d feel the same peace at the end of my life, calmly sorting piles instead of scrambling to make amends or cross experiences off of a list.

I spent most of the Fourth of July weekend in her yard, working my way around the weeds in her flower beds and beneath her evergreen bushes. It had been a while since I’d done that work, and I forgot how enamored I’d been of working outside. Most of my days were spent working in stuffy houses, the heat turned down or the air-conditioning turned off, as they sat empty while their occupants were away.

At home, I battled a relentless black mold. Our sleeping area, with its walls made up of large windows, became a sauna in the evening sun. If it had rained recently, it was more like a greenhouse. Sleeping was nearly impossible for Mia, who’d always slept through anything—even fireworks. Travis stopped by to visit with Mia one evening and, after balking at how hot it was, left suddenly in his truck, returning a half an hour later with an air conditioner he installed in the window for me. He turned it up full blast. Mia and I stuck our faces in the cool air. It felt expensive, like a luxury. Maybe I’d only use it when we got home or right before bed to cool the room down a little, so our electric bill didn’t go up too much. It worried me that the air felt moist. Everything seemed to exacerbate the black mold growing on the windowsills that surrounded us while we slept.

Outside, I could breathe deep. When I worked, I listened to the noises of a neighborhood instead of music from my iPod. That Fourth of July weekend, many of Wendy’s neighbors were already lighting fireworks or cooking meat on the grill. Occasionally, I’d get a whiff of steak or hamburgers, and my mouth would water. I imagined crisp lettuce and thick slices of tomatoes, cheese, ketchup, and mayonnaise applied generously, all washed down with a bottle of beer. From beneath the evergreen tree, I imagined kids in yards up and down the neighborhood, running around with sparklers. That weekend, Mia was with Jamie, and I found myself hoping that she was at a barbeque with her dad, surrounded by kids her age. I hoped that she would get to see fireworks that night.

Wendy wrote me checks with a shaky hand, insisting that I be paid my regular rate even for my lunch break. “Your time is valuable,” she said, handing me the check with illustrated pink roses by her name and address.

After a couple of months, Wendy canceled her cleans. “I just can’t afford them anymore,” she told me over the phone, and I thought I heard regret even through her weakened voice.

I don’t know when she passed, but I wondered if it was soon after I stopped visiting. I thought often about our conversations over sandwiches and coffee, how the carrot sticks in front of her went untouched, and that perhaps her plate was mostly for show; that, even though she didn’t have the appetite to eat, we weren’t eating a meal alone. Memories of those afternoons with Wendy reminded me not only that my time was of value but that even though I was there to clean a toilet or pick candy wrappers out of her junipers, I had value, too.

Weekends without work or Mia blared with silence. With the Pell Grant only covering enough tuition for the regular school year, I couldn’t afford tuition for the summer semester due to rent, so I didn’t have homework