“I am Edwards,” he announces, looking with distaste at us. “You must be the cleaning staff we booked. Come in.”
Our manager, Rebecca, leads the way after Edwards. We struggle to get through the door with our buckets and mops, but it’s doable. We’re all seasoned professionals, and we’re used to juggling a million things at once.
Edwards hands Rebecca a stack of papers and then disappears down a hallway to the right. I guess we’re on our own. Rebecca looks at the papers, her brow crinkling. She’s a middle-aged woman with a tight brown perm and a permanently sour expression.
“Ladies, this house is so big that we have maps for you to use. Don’t get lost,” she warns, passing them around. “Olly, you’ll be in the den and the dining room.”
Olly nods, checks the map, and heads to her assignment while giving me a wave. I wave back and then Rebecca turns to me.
“Kaylee, you’ll be in the upstairs bathroom and the office.”
Damn. I was hoping to be closer to Olly, but we’re on totally different floors. It’s fine. We’ll see each other later.
Rebecca hands out the rest of the assignments, and it doesn’t seem like anyone else will be working close to me. My shoulders slumping, I trudge up the stairs to the bathroom. I hate cleaning bathrooms because it’s gross to think about what goes on in them sometimes. But at least I’m getting paid a fair wage. I enter the bathroom and set my mop and bucket down. It appears the bathroom hasn’t been cleaned in a while, judging from the soap scum and light coat of grime. It’s not the worst I’ve seen, but it’s not great, either.
Grimly, I snap on a pair of rubber gloves and immediately get to work pouring a cleaning solution into the toilet to soak and then scrubbing the shower until it’s bright white.
Cleaning is mindless work. My thoughts wander as I run my sponge over a particularly difficult tile. I really should start on that English paper Olly was talking about. I have other homework I need to do, but between my cleaning jobs and going to class, I don’t have a lot of time to get schoolwork done.
That’s probably why my grades are so low.
I continue to scrub and soon, I’m a mess. The work is vigorous and I’m sweating like a pig. I sit back on my knees for a moment to take a deep breath. My hair is sticking to my forehead, and I push the clammy strands away from my face as best I can. I’m only eighteen. I should be hanging out with friends and gossiping about boys, not cleaning a stranger’s bathroom.
This is the life I lead, though, and I just hope I can escape someday.
2
Kaylee
My knees are killing me.
You’d think after doing this job for two years, I’d be used to kneeling on the floor, but I’m not. If anything, it hurts more now than it did when I started at sixteen. A couple more years of this, and I might need knee replacements.
Not that I can afford them. Health insurance isn’t exactly a priority in my household. We’re still focused on putting a roof over our heads and food on the table.
I lean back and blow my hair out of my face. The office is cool, but I’m still sweating, which is what happens when you have to scrub hard on the hardwood floor.
When was the last time the homeowner had his place cleaned? This floor is awful. I’ve been going over the same spot for a while, and it just doesn’t want to get clean.
I adjust myself so that I’m sitting cross-legged on the floor. My manager, Rebecca, allows us to take breaks periodically. She’s not the worst boss in the world, I don’t think. At least, that’s what my coworkers tell me. Rebecca is the only boss I’ve had, so I wouldn’t know.
I look around the office. It’s three times the size of my entire trailer. I could easily live in this room alone.
Sometimes I think about that. Houses like this, with a ridiculous number of rooms, would be so easy to occupy without the owners even knowing. I guarantee there are rooms in this house the Millbrook family has never seen. All I have to do is find one of them and make it my own. They would never even know that I’m here.
I chuckle to myself. It’s a ridiculous thought. Almost as ridiculous as the idea of me going to college one day.
This office isn’t one of the unused rooms in the house, though. Despite the dust on the floor, it’s clearly occupied. There are papers scattered across the huge, wooden desk. I wonder if I’m supposed to tidy them up or clean around them? I’ll have to leave the desk for last and check in with Rebecca because often, clients don’t like it when we shuffle their papers around without permission.