Respecting Maryam Reaps the Rewards

"No, you've really disrespected me tonight, and I want to talk about it now."

I knew the drill by this point. I dropped to my knees and slumped to a heap at Maryam's feet. Before she could react, my lips were planted against her foot. She was being extra strict tonight, but I figured she was testing me. I knew what she wanted. It was humiliating, but it seemed to work and got me out of trouble every time. I didn't like or dislike doing it either way, her feet were usually clean. It was just sort of demeaning, but since it worked, I'd do it. As long as none of my friends found out. Anyway, I figured Maryam secretly enjoyed it when I kissed her feet, perhaps it was an empowerment thing.

"No," Maryam said from above my hunkering form. She kicked my face away "That's not going to cut it this time."

Drat. I was going to have to ride out the scolding head on. With my usual fail-safe, foot-kissing rejected, I was clueless when it came to appeasing her. My hazy, tipsy mind wasn't helping matters either. I couldn't think straight. Rather than trying to rectify the situation, I sprung to my feet and confronted her head on. "Who do you think you are talking to me like that?"

"Your landlady," she said, in a tone that highlighted my stupidity. "And you've let me down again with your behaviour. Look what happened with your house; you're on the same downward path again. You may be older, but you're not mature enough to manage your own money without blowing it all on frivolous things. Every month it's the same story. You need some order in your life."

"I'll spend my money however I like." I was feeling bold with the alcohol flowing through my veins.

"Not at the expense of my rent you won't. I'm actually amazed at how irresponsible you are. I want you out this weekend." For such a small, petite girl, her presence and forceful confidence was tough to keep up with.

It suddenly dawned on me that Maryam was being very serious. "No, please, Maryam. I don't want that. There must be a way we can fix this. I'm sorry. It's my fault I know. I'm just useless when it comes to money."

"I've heard all this before Katie. You've had enough chances."

"Please, anything. Tell me what it'll take for you to let me stay."

Maryam paused and was lost in thought for a second. "The only way I'll let you stay is if I have complete control over your finances, as you simply cannot be trusted to manage them yourself. I'm not having you thinking you can live here without paying your due and acting however you like."

"No way," I said. "I'm not letting you spend my money. It's mine."

"I never said anything about spending it," Maryam said. She gave me a look of contempt at the accusation. "I'll simply manage it for you as if you were one of my clients. Every month you can give me your pay check, I'll deduct your rent and the rest I'll lock away in my safe. You can keep a small amount for day to day things, but anytime you want more than an agreed amount; you'll have to discuss it with me first and I'll decide whether it's a legitimate expense."

"I'm not a child. Why should I let you tell me how I can spend my own money?" I was blown away by her arrogance.

"You're right, you're not a child. So, it's about time you stopped acting like one. You're a grown woman, and frankly your behaviour is embarrassing."

"If I agree to this, what's stopping you from just spending it yourself or keeping it?"

"Look, we'll sign a contract beforehand which states I am acting on your behalf as your financial adviser and I'll keep a record of everything. Every single penny will be recorded. I'll basically be giving you my professional services for free; if anything, you should be grateful for the offer. This is just what you need. At the end of the month, I'll invest whatever is left for you."

"I just don't know," I said. "I'm still not comfortable with the idea. Why would you do this? What's in it for you?"

"You're pitiful Katie, and I feel sorry for you. Annoyed that you're constantly letting me down and disrespecting me, yes, but I feel sorry for you too. I want to help before you throw your life away. This will actually be really good for you," Maryam said.

"How do you know what's good for me though?"

"Look at yourself. You're in your 30's and what do you have to show for it? Don't your parents care that you're wasting away your life? You'd never get away with this in Iran."

"Well, we're not in Iran." I spat back.

"No, but you're in my house, and while you're in my house you will obey my rules. Else, you can be on your way. So, it's just your choice Katie. Either you agree to my suggestion and together we can get rid of these detrimental vices, or you can find somewhere else to live."

It irked me to be spoken to in such a way by a younger girl, especially a Muslim immigrant that didn't shy away from sharing her dim, self-righteous critique of my lifestyle. What gave her the right to tell me how I should live my life? "This is asking too much, Maryam."

"Let's just try it and see how it goes," she said. "When's your next pay check?"

"Next week." I felt stupid with what I was about to say next as it confirmed everything she'd stated. "Umm, I'll need another week to pay your rent."

"See. I'm not even surprised. Then next week I want you to bring me your pay check and we'll start from there. We'll give it a month's trial, and if things don't go as I expect, then I'll admit I'm wrong and you can take your money and move out. But if I'm right, we'll look at making it a long-term arrangement."

The next week rolled around and Maryam was waiting in the living room when I came home from work. She was sitting up straight in the leather armchair with her feet firmly planted on the ground. She must have had the day off, as she was wearing a traditional Persian dress, sparkly and brightly coloured. Encompassing her head was her usual headscarf, this time with a striped pattern. Her sandaled feet peeked out from beneath the silver hem of the dress; toes unpolished as was the norm.

Her attire further hit home with what I was about to do, as if she'd deliberately dressed for the occasion. I was about to hand over control over my finances to my younger Muslim landlady; an Iranian immigrant. It was humiliating that it had come to this. What a kick in the teeth for my proud country, that one of its daughters needed a foreigner to manage her life. If my friends knew I'd never live it down.

"Do you have it?" Maryam asked.

I handed Maryam an envelope filled with my month's salary. It didn't even occur to me to remove some prior to handing it over. No doubt she would have counted it out and busted me anyway.

Maryam took the cash, then pushed her sandals out from beneath her dress. "Kiss them," she said.

"Why?" I asked. I was ready to hand over my pay check and sign her stupid contract, why did I need to humiliate myself too? I did it before because I had to and there was something in it for me. This was just her being spiteful.

"Because I want you to," Maryam said. Her toes drummed impatiently within her sandals. "I want you to show me you respect me and accept this is for your own good."

I sighed, sank to my knees and kissed each of her feet as she demanded. Being on my knees at Maryam's feet had become too much of a regularity. At times I felt like I was never anywhere else. To top it all off, she made me sign the contract on the floor right there between her sandaled feet.

And that was it. Control of my finances had been handed over to my younger, Persian landlady. That fact brought a smile to her face and a grimace to my own.

I quickly learned that Maryam was successful at her job because she was no fool. She tolerated little waste when it came to money. I'd figured that this whole contract deal would be a token gesture, and I'd be able to have access to my money as I pleased. Sure, Maryam would feel she was symbolically in control, but she couldn't stop me from taking what I wanted. It was my money after all.

The first time I approached Maryam for cash was a rude awakening. Two of my friends had organised a weekend girls' night to Blackpool and I'd been invited along. In total, it was a couple of hundred pounds plus spending money on top. I told Maryam with excitement about the trip and expected her to hand over the money and wish me a good time. Instead, her face soured at the request.

"I don't think that's a good idea at all," she said. "What a complete waste of money that will be."

"What?" I said in shock. "It'll be amazing. A weekend to remember."

"A weekend you'll forget with the amount of alcohol you'll be shoving down your throat. No, Katie, it's not happening."

I was lost in silence for a moment, shocked that she had the audacity to tell me what I could and could not do with my own money. Finally, the words came to me. "What makes you think you can stop me?"

"We had an agreement, remember? And I intend to stick to it, however much you don't like it."

"Give me the key to the safe." I reached out to Maryam and grabbed at her wrist.

"Lay one finger on me and you'll be out of this house before the day is over." Her words were confident, precisely chosen and carried weight.

I grunted in frustration and slammed the door on the way to my room. The rest of the night I spent alone, sulking and wondering what I'd gotten myself into.

That episode was repeated day after day over the next week. I'd ask Maryam for money so I could go and party or have fun and she'd flatly refuse. There was no give in her will at all and the more I seemed to rant and rave, the stronger her resolve would be.

Eventually, I tried a new tactic. I'd asked for some money one morning over breakfast. A few of my work colleagues were heading out before the weekend and had organised a bar crawl. I explained to Maryam that it was a social function and I deserved to have a little fun after working hard all week; she flatly refused as usual.

While Maryam ate her muesli, I slipped beneath the table and began delicately kissing her bare feet. I heard her sigh above, before continuing eating. She never told me to stop, so I took that as a good sign. I traced my lips all over her toes, applied mild suction to her heels, and pecked along her arches.

After a few minutes, I rose to my knees at Maryam's side and looked her in the eye. "With respect, Maryam, may I ask for a little money to enjoy myself tonight?"

Maryam huffed, rolled her eyes and dropped her spoon in her cereal bowl. My grovelling had worked but her response was to give me merely £20 of my money.

I pleaded with her, explaining that it would barely last me two hours, but she was unmoved, stating that it was more than enough to have a good time and I should be grateful for it. When I started to argue and demand more, Maryam simply reminded me of our agreement and informed me I was welcome to take more money, but I should pack my bags too. I left for work that morning with the single £20 note in my purse. It was better than nothing I supposed.

Unsurprisingly, I was home before 10pm that evening. My work colleagues thought I was a killjoy and carried on without me. I was borderline sober and bitter. Here I was at home on a Friday night and the party was carrying on without me.

Maryam was on the sofa with her legs curled beneath her when I walked in. She looked up from the book she was reading. "You're back early," she stated. I noted her mouth curled in the tiniest of smirks.

"Well, I ran out of money," I said while flopping down on the armchair opposite her. "I didn't have much of a choice. £20 isn't going to last long, is it?"

"That's too bad, but at least you haven't come home in a state." Maryam smiled, before returning her attention to her book.

I fidgeted awkwardly in the chair. Truth be told, the night had ended prematurely, thanks to Maryam putting a limit on my funds. I felt like a child with an allowance. "My friends are still out partying," I said. I avoided looking in Maryam's direction and focused my attention on the fireplace. "I was wondering if maybe I could have a bit more of my money and go out for a bit longer?"

"I don't think that's a good idea, Katie," Maryam said. Her attention never left her book.

I wasn't drunk, but I'd had a few drinks and my inhibitions had been lowered. I'd tried to be respectful with Maryam since our arrangement had begun, but my frustration had grown with her persistent strict control. "Why do you have to be such a bitch?" I said.

Maryam looked up curiously from her book and raised her eyebrow. She didn't seem to lose any composure at my outburst. "Do you think talking to me like that is how to get your way?"

"It's just, this isn't fair. It's my money and I should be able to spend it how I want." My voice was more like a whine than the authoritative tone I was going for.

"We've already established that you can't be trusted to do that, haven't we Katie?" Maryam always sounded so confident and assured. Despite being older than her, she always made me feel younger.

"Could you at least think about it before you say no?"

Maryam uncurled her legs from beneath her and stretched them out on the sofa. "Alright, that seems only fair. You can rub my feet while I think it over, then when I'm nice and relaxed you can politely ask me again and apologise for what you just called me. I'm not saying I'll say yes, but if you show me the proper respect, it might help your chances."

I'd already signed the paperwork, but I resented the control she had over me now my finances were in her hands. I believed her when she said she wouldn't steal from me, but I hadn't considered how she could control me by restricting my access to the bare minimum. I was a lot more pliable and obedient when desperate; perhaps that had been her motive all along.

I sighed and knelt at the end of the sofa. While Maryam continued to read her book, I diligently massaged the soles of her feet. She had me right where she wanted me. Instead of out partying, I was spending my Friday night as her personal foot masseuse.

After a half hour had passed of rubbing Maryam's feet. I figured enough time had passed to politely ask for what I wanted. I focused on her toes while I tentatively inquired. "I'm sorry for calling you a bitch, Maryam. Please may I have a bit more money and join my friends?"

Maryam settled back into the couch, and placed a cushion beneath her head. She turned the page of her book while simultaneously switching the foot in my hands. "I just don't know. I could let you go have your fun I suppose." She closed her eyes as I applied extra pressure with my thumbs to her sole after hearing those hopeful words. "But I want you to help me move the furniture around tomorrow morning, and I know there will be no chance of that if you're hungover."

"Please, ma'am," I said while caressing the bottom of her foot. I figured she'd be happy if I addressed her in a more respectful manner. I leant forward and placed a kiss upon her sole, hoping that may help since she seemed to enjoy it. "I promise I won't stay out too late or get really drunk."

"Well," Maryam said as I kissed her foot again. "You are being quite respectful right now."

I perked up at her praise.

Maryam smiled. I suspected she liked seeing me suck up to her. It was probably quite a kick for her to have a local English girl at her feet. "Just keep rubbing while I think about it," she said. She shifted on the couch and rested her other foot on my shoulder. "You need to start trusting that I know what's best for you."

I continued to rub Maryam's feet in earnest, while occasionally offering a sporadic kiss, hoping to satisfy her and get what I wanted. It was taking a lot longer than I expected though, and with one eye on the clock above the fireplace, I noted the minutes were ticking away. Maryam appeared entirely engrossed in her book, barely offering me any acknowledgment as I slaved away at her feet. Before long an hour had passed and closing time at the bar was nearing.

"So, can I get a bit more money then? The bar will be closed soon," I asked. My hands were still wrapped around Maryam's tiny foot. My fingers had long ago begun to ache, but I had fought through it.

Maryam looked up from her book and glanced at the clock. "Sorry, that felt so good I completely lost track of the time." She threw her book down on the table and stretched out. "It's probably too late for you to be going out now, isn't it?"

I wanted to throw her stupid book at her. She'd wasted almost two hours of my night mulling over whether I was going to get any more money. She could have just outright said no in the first place, not dangled a carrot in front of me so I'd rub her feet in hope.

Maryam sat up and swung her legs around, so I was knelt between them. "What's wrong?" She asked. She looked down at me and raised her eyebrows at my silence.

I was within my rights to voice my discontent, but I knew that would only result in me getting less money next time, if anything at all. It was quite a pickle I found myself in, but at least it would be over after the month's trial.

"Nothing, Maryam," I said. I was weak, so weak. I felt like such a putz. I couldn't hold her gaze as her eyes screamed victory.

"Good." She patted me on the head. "You've been a really good girl tonight. I'm proud of you. Get yourself to sleep and we can get started on the furniture nice and early tomorrow."

The rest of the month went the same way. By the fourth weekend, I didn't even bother to ask Maryam for money to go out drinking. She'd been very strict with my allowance. Other than for essentials such as food and transport, most of my requests were turned down on the grounds that they were spurious wants. I was allowed some money for entertainment, but it was restricted so that I wouldn't overindulge and step out of line. I was growing tired of having to ask Maryam for permission all of the time, just for simple things such as money to meet up with my friends.

When my second pay check came through, I was reluctant to hand it over to Maryam. I wanted the trial to be over as it had been an abject failure in my eyes. Surprisingly, she understood my opposition and was willing to talk it over.

"I promised you a month's trial and I'm going to honour my word. I can tell you're not happy and you've found the last month tough, but I want you to think about what it was like for you before. You lost everything because of your irresponsibility. Do you want to go back to that?"

"No, but I don't want to have no life either."

"You have a life. You've just been living within your means and in moderation this month. Of course, there will be a sticking period because you're so used to getting your own way and living recklessly."

"But what's the point if I'm miserable all the time?"

"Look at this," Maryam said. She removed an envelope from her purse and placed it on the table between us. "This should cheer you up."

"What's that?" I asked. My tone was impatient and unimpressed.

Maryam smiled and fished a wad of £20 notes from the envelope. She counted them out into a pile one by one. "You have almost £400 left this month. Does that surprise you?"

"Really?" I was actually in shock. Perhaps having Maryam in charge of my finances wasn't such a bad thing after all. I never saved money, ever. I spent every pay check partying it up on the weekends.

"Yes, really. I'm proud of you, Katie. You've done really well and this was only the first month where you were going through an adjustment period. Imagine how much you'll save when you're all settled and more willing to follow my advice. I'm putting most of that into an investment for you. Over time I'll build up a portfolio in your name. And, since you've been so good, you can have a little bit to enjoy yourself tonight."