The Games that Play Us Pt. 01

I figured I'd test the atmosphere and see how arrogant my niece truly was. I offered a sarcastic curtsey in her direction, then with a patronising smile, I said, "Is there anything I can do for you right now, while you play your game, your majesty?"

Natalya looked at me through the corner of her eye; eyebrow raised above it. She then paused the game and turned towards me, looking me up and down, seemingly confused and unsure how to respond. I had to try not to smirk, as clearly my sarcasm had gotten to her. I'd read about reverse psychology working wonders when it came to disciplining brats, and the evidence was now laying before me. Natalya was a confrontational monster that seemed to rebel against authority, but now I'd thrown it back in her face and teased that I was willing to do what she wanted, she was suddenly paralysed and lost for words. I already felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders, as this was the first interaction we'd had where I felt like I was actually the one in control of the narrative.

She continued to stare at me with curiosity, and a number of times her lips quivered as if she was about to say something. She cocked her head and eyed me suspiciously, but then, she glanced towards the table at the empty plate and glass. "You can clean that up and bring me one of those bottles of juice, since you're offering." Her eyes then returned to me and waited for a response.

Unfortunately, I hadn't expected such a response from her, and I had no clue how to retort. What was I supposed to say? Get it your damn self? I'd just sarcastically offered to do anything for her, hoping she'd realise how entitled and arrogant she was being. Instead, she'd simply taken me up on the offer and now I was left looking like a foolish idiot. I looked at the table and grimaced at the dirty dish and glass. It was annoying me enough having been there all day; the pulp from the orange juice had dried and stuck to the glass. My cheeks were reddening from losing control of the narrative to Natalya once again, and I let out a frustrated deep breath, then marched over and scooped up the dirty items. Before I'd even left the room towards the kitchen, I heard the video game resume behind me, then a kind of amused snort from her before she said, "Thanks."

I washed the items, then was about to march upstairs and change out of my work clothes. However, I caught sight of the fridge and remembered that Natalya had asked for some juice. Who the hell did she think she was? Sitting around in my house all day and playing her stupid games, and now she was expecting me to clean up after her and bring her something to drink. Though, could I even accuse her of expecting it? After all, she hadn't mentioned me doing such a thing until I sarcastically offered it. I'd put that idea in her head, and therefore, I could hardly pass judgement on her, could I?

I crept towards the doorway and peeked around the corner, catching sight of the back of her head while she was busy concentrating on her game. I looked around my living room and noticed the state it was in. There were empty snack wrappers all over the couch, where Natalya had discarded them as if my home was her trash can. My television had been hooked up to her game console for days to the point that I'd resorted to watching things on my phone in my room. She'd completely taken the television for herself and I was never given an opportunity to seize back control of it.

While I stared at her, seemingly happy while playing her game, I thought back over the daily arguments we'd been having. The confrontations and the toxic environment we'd both been living under. Apparently, Natalya was used to it with her mother, because none of our clashes seemed to phase her. Meanwhile, I'd been laying awake at night, thinking over the exchanges and wondering if I could have done things differently. I'd daydream in work, dreading returning home because I now had a lodger with me who wasn't paying rent; a responsibility I'd taken on that I'd expected to be a walk in the park, but in actuality had been anything but.

Ordering underlings around all day in work was exhausting. Managing the workload and designating tasks to others was extra stress. The responsibility was a huge weight. I revelled in it, of course, and was immensely proud at the successful business I had built. However, that's exactly what it was: a business. The stresses of such responsibilities were supposed to diminish once I walked through my front door. This was to be a safe space of relaxation and unwinding. A place where I wasn't expected to make the decisions and boss people around. This was a place where I quietly read a book or watched television while relaxing with my feet up. That place no longer existed, however. I hadn't watched a television show on my own TV in days, and I could hardly get through a page of a novel while the sound of Natalya's video game was blasting.

There was no reprieve from the responsibility. I returned from work, not to relax, but instead to the same responsibility; not finding a client a job, but rather, my own niece. The difference was she wasn't enthusiastic like the clients I worked with. Natalya didn't want a job, she'd rather sit around doing nothing, and attempting to get her out of this mindset was ridiculously tiring. I was exhausted, and I just wanted her to say yes to something and get this all over with. I noticed the print-out near my coat on the sofa, and I realised that once again, Natalya had distorted the narrative so much that I hadn't even mentioned it to her.

I was about to go over and grab it, no doubt braced for another confrontation, when I heard her amused little snort and her word of gratitude in my head again. Thanks, she'd said with a giggle, after ordering me to clean up and fetch her a drink. Despite treating me like a servant in my own home, that was the only instance of pleasant exchange we'd had in the days since she'd come to stay. Everything else had been battles of her refusing any attempt I'd made to change her way of thinking. She'd insulted me, she'd swore at me, all because I was trying to get her to do something she clearly didn't want to. On the one occasion I'd offered to clean up for her, she'd not only not abused me in return, she'd been grateful.

I looked back towards the fridge; was bringing her a juice really that big of a deal if it meant her attitude improved? I shrugged my shoulders and felt I could give it a try. Perhaps I'd been going about this all wrong, and I'd been too full-on in my attempts, relying on blunt force. Maybe the way to getting Natalya on board with improving her future was gentle nurturing. I grabbed a juice from the fridge and brought it over to her. "Here you go, dear," I said in a patient and pleasant tone. "Have a drink while you enjoy your game."

Natalya turned and smiled at me, then she nodded towards the table and I put the drink down. "Thanks, Aunt Heather," she said, before immediately returning her attention to the TV.

Despite acting like some sort of servant in my own home, I was actually enjoying the polite and pleasant exchange, almost feeling like I'd made a breakthrough. I could have left at that point, returned upstairs with a smile on my face, knowing that though Natalya was still glued to the television, there was no hostility in my home. The stress of my day wasn't being compounded by the usual extra stress of dealing with Natalya's attitude. It was honestly exhausting going up against her and this was the most relaxed I'd felt in days.

We'd made progress, while I eyed the job print-out, I settled on prolonging the civil atmosphere as a means of bringing it up. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" I asked, while waiting as she tapped away on the controller.

Natalya glanced sideways at me, then she narrowed her eyes as if irritated. She ignored me for a few seconds while she focused on completing a particularly difficult aspect of the game she was playing, attempting to make the character jump and grab onto some ledge. Once she succeeded, she paused the game and turned to me. "What were you going on about?"

I cleared my throat and asked again, "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Natalya was silent, and she turned in the recliner to fully look at me. Again, she looked me up and down, then she kind of sank back into the recliner and gazed at me with fascination; the eyeliner was almost punctuating the intensity of her stare as she considered me. During the silence, I could tell there were all sorts of questions rolling around her head, and I too was experiencing the same thing. Why was I offering to do something else for her? I'd already cleared up her mess and brought her what she wanted, and her polite reception had been welcomed, yet that wasn't enough to fulfil me apparently? Oh, the print-out, I wanted to talk about the print.

I looked over it, and thought about say something, but I couldn't find the words. It was right there, a piece of paper on the sofa. All I had to do was pick it up and give it to her, but instead, I'd offered to do something else for her. It was almost like pleasing Natalya, keeping her happy and avoiding her temper and hostility was in some way rewarding for me and I was longing for more.

It was an odd sensation, but one I was seemingly revelling in. I was used to my employees and subordinates striving to please me, so it felt strange being on the other side of it, almost like I was stepping out of my comfort zone. The job didn't matter right now, just seeing Natalya smile rather than sneer was what mattered to me.

Natalya stroked her chin, then she cocked her head, before smirking slightly and turned back to her game. "I'm fine for now, but I'll let you know if I need anything."

I was about to turn and accept I wasn't needed, that was until my eyes caught sight of those dirty socks she was wearing once again. I looked over at her filthy soles, her heels sunken into the leather of the recliner's foot rest. Just seeing them splayed out all over my expensive furniture was making me feel queasy. "Are you ever going to wash those?"

Natalya let out an annoyed sigh then made a show of impatiently pressing the pause button on her controller once again. "For God's sake," she said. "What? What are you going on about now?"

My mouth was dry in response to her tone; all that pleasantness had instantly disappeared and I wanted it back. I rephrased the question in the hopes of simmering down her mood. "Your socks, do you want me to wash them for you?"

In my peripheral vision, I noted her head turn as she looked towards her socks. She wiggled her toes beneath the weathered cotton, then separated her feet and placed them flat against the leather, those sopping, sweaty soles rubbing their filth right into my furniture. "Why are you bothered so much by my socks?" she asked, while grinding them into the footrest. "You liked the smell or something and now you want some alone time with them?"

I felt my cheeks flush over, but I avoided her eyes and looked towards her socks. I immediately felt a tingle in my nose as I recalled their stinky smell and the intoxicating effect it had on me. I was almost calm as she had used me as her footrest and it was as if the pungent odour had taken over my mind to the point that nothing else mattered, I couldn't fathom a thought, even through the pain in my kidney. All of my responsibilities and stresses had seemed to dissipate amongst the strength of her powerful foot stink. It was only my pride that forced me to scramble away from that stinky sock, wasn't it? As I stared at her toes wiggling beneath the material, I couldn't recall whether the smell had been horrible or wonderful, all I could remember was that it had shocked my senses. Maybe if she allowed me to wash them, I could take a quick sniff to remind myself.

"You okay?" she asked, which startled me out of my thoughts.

"Ummm, I'm, I'm just putting the laundry on," I said. "Thought you might want them clean is all."

She made a show of rubbing them into the leather a few more times, occasionally gripping at the material with her socked toes. "No, I'm fine just as I am, but"--she raised her eyebrows and a subtle grin settled on her lips--"I'll let you know when I need you to clean them for me, since apparently you want to do so." The sound of the video game returned and I'd soon lost her attention.

I hovered near the foot of the stairs for a moment, unsure whether to try and prolong the conversation or get the hell out of there. The job printout was right there and I knew I should bring it to her, but after her final retort about me wanting to wash her socks, I didn't have it in me. I was perplexed by my own response to Natalya's words; there was a stewing in my tummy from hearing her say she'll let me know when she needs me to clean her socks. Was she that entitled that she actually believed cleaning her socks was a service I should provide her? Well, why wouldn't she now, I had just offered it after all. I shook my head and wondered what the hell had gotten into me before I headed off upstairs.

A couple of hours later, after having showered and relaxed for a while, I made my way downstairs around dinner time. I grimaced as I saw the empty juice bottle still on the table. Even though I'd been nice and accommodating, she still hadn't bothered to simply get up and toss the bottle in the trash. I'd enjoyed how calm and polite she'd been when I helped her out, and I'd expected she'd return the favour in some way; perhaps by keeping my home clean. I walked over and snatched it from the table, making a demonstration of just how frustrated I was with her attitude.

"Thanks, Aunt Heather," she said without looking from the television. She twisted in the recliner while her hands gripped the controller, seemingly fully engrossed in her game. She turned her head slightly towards my direction, but kept her eyes glued to the screen. "Would you fetch me another? I'm about to get a new high score and can't get up."

My head wanted to say no, but something inside me led me silently to the kitchen. I chucked the empty bottle in the trash, only pausing to notice the job printout already in there, torn in two. That sneaky brat, I thought. I knew I should say something, yet, seconds later I was returning with a fresh juice for my lazy niece. I just knew that if I mentioned my discovery in the trash; it would lead to an argument. It was already late, and I just didn't have the energy by this point.

Before I headed back upstairs to sleep, I caught sight of those socked feet crossed on the flip-out footrest. She yawned and re-crossed her ankles, and I felt a tingle inside me as I sized her up, the picture of relaxation. Not only was she playing her games as much as she wanted, she didn't even need to get up for snacks anymore; why would she when she had me? I wondered if this was what she was used to with my sister. I headed to bed a confused and baffled mess.