Story: New Employee. Chapter 41.

 by BigBird74

Just how vulnerable was I? It appeared extremely. I could try to get to my father. I could run from the whole ghastly situation. Anything would be better than simply waiting and sinking further into this new life! But I sat still. For the moment it felt that my options had run out and I was safest staying just where I was. As an undocumented worker, I had no money, nowhere to go. I did not even have an official identity. All my life I had received the very best money could buy. Everything had been so simple and natural, one easy, obvious option after the other. I was totally unprepared for anything involving such a wrenching dilemma like this. I felt dizzy, disoriented and very afraid.

I obsessively scanned the same pages in the newspaper several times, hoping to gleam something new, a ray of hope, perhaps, something I had misread earlier. But, of course, nothing changed and the situation remained bleak. As much as I focused on my father’s fate, I also needed to find out what had happened to my sister. Had she been caught up in the same imbroglio? There was nothing mentioned in the paper. If she had any part in the scandal, it was not immediately obvious. The fear or flight battle taking part inside of me then flared back into life: I could go and find her! At least to see where she might be? It had been months of zero contact and I needed to know what had happened. The impulsive side to my character, the one that had led me to this point, again took hold of the reins. I knew that on a normal day Katherine’s assistant would return after several hours. That gave me more than enough time to work my way to my sister’s apartments, several blocks away. I grabbed a light coat from my former wardrobe and tried to cover my ill-fitting, drab uniform as best I could and headed out of the building to see.

I had made this journey so many times in my limousine, though this felt so different trudging down the road in my current guise. Though I worked hard with my cleaning duties, I was not terribly mobile and I was feeling a touch breathless as soon as I cleared the first block. I reckon I was carrying almost a third more bodyweight than before. My thickening thighs forced me to adopt a slight waddle when bustling down the road quickly. Like any supplicant in life, my eyes were cast downwards. I wanted to avoid the judgmental stares of the strangers now passing me. Each time I did, I met someone’s eye, I saw a look of reproach barely concealed in a brief smirk or outright stare.

A few streets from my sister’s apartment, I saw a group of policemen busily dealing with some disturbance. Whereas I used to feel a degree of comfort from seeing authority clearly displayed, now I ducked away from the scene, crossing the street to avoid potential trouble. I had become a near outcast. My madness had pushed me to a place from which I could never return, unless I accepted a huge dose of public humiliation, perhaps even being put into care? I shuddered, for that was the reality I might face if not careful.

When I reached my sister’s building, I stared upwards and saw a mist had descended around the top floors. I had an idea on how to get inside, I just needed to summon all my courage and make sure I kept my head down and avoided looking too suspicious. The key card I had for my building, might, just might work in this one. We had a number of staff that worked in multiple properties and the pass I had looked very similar. With a growing sense of trepidation, I approached the service doors at the rear of the building. The key card panel looked different to the one back at Katherine’s building. My sinking feeling only grew as the lighting on the panel lit up red, denying me access. I felt an acute sense of hopelessness at that moment, shut out of nearly every part of my former life. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I tried the card again and again, to no avail.

Then something of a small miracle occurred. The door opened and a doorman strode into the alleyway for a cigarette. He saw me standing there with the card aloft, and smiled, pushing it farther ajar for me. Still shaking a little from all the pent-up adrenalin of the moment, I thanked him in my now-thick Spanish accent and hurried through the gap and moved directly to the service elevator.

By itself that stroke of good fortune would not be enough to get me to the penthouse, surely? As the lift rose higher and higher, stopping a few times to pick up and drop off some other staff, my inner doubts reached fever point. The lift deposited me on the very top floor, about 10 metres from the door to my sister’s penthouse. I suddenly felt very afraid. I had no idea what I may find inside of there. It had been such a long while since I had laid eyes on her or even spoken to her. And besides, what would she make of me? Like a shrinking violet, I stood there shaking, not knowing what to do, then I heard footsteps!

Someone was approaching the door! In what seemed like a slow-motion moment, the door opened and within a few lingering seconds I was standing face-to-face with my sister. As had happened a few times already over the past months, I now faced a choice that I had not prepared for. Do I speak as Katherine or as Marta? The adrenalin coursing through my veins had driven to this point with very little time for reflection. I felt totally adrift and unable to think my way out of this.

“Well?” My sister snapped back.

Then for those that do not believe in miracles, a second one struck. “Who is it?” A familiar voice reached out from behind the door.

“Just some cleaner”, my sister shot back.

The door was pushed open to reveal Katherine’s assistant standing there. “Oh!” she exclaimed, looking a little taken aback. “I know this one. This is Marta Fernandez, she is one of our leading staff. Your sister had taken a keen interest in her before ……” Her voice trailed off, knowing that this was not a subject to raise right now.

My sister’s sudden faraway look told me that she had been hurt by the events. Then, as if to confirm how much I had changed physically, she muttered angrily: “Don’t talk to me about that stupid bitch! It is her fault Daddy is in such trouble.”

I looked down, the sickness in my belly seemed to grow worse and I was almost sick.

“What do you want?” She directed an angry question at me.

Katherine’s assistant intervened, “I think she is here to start her duties,” before turning back to my sister who was gazing up at her with a doe-eyed expression. “I believe we can trust this one.”

For a moment the assistant’s eyes met mine and the fear and sickness gave way to that warmth. “Oh god no!” I thought as she again stoked my depravity. “I cannot do this!”

“Marta go down to the lobby and help the cleaner there. I will come find you.” As if sensing I may be breaking at that very moment, she underlined her diktat: “Now!”

The door was closed in my face. I thought about hammering on it, but, as had been the case throughout this sorry affair, I soon felt myself shrinking back into the character I felt most at ease with: Marta. I turned and walked back to the elevator.

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