The Sperm Donor Pt. 02

Suddenly a young woman's face appeared on the screen above the remote camera that hung on the gate. "Yes?" she asked.

"I'm Richard Hatfield," Dickey answered. "Estelle...I mean, Ms. Rubinstein is expecting me."

"Come around the back and I'll let you in. The front entrance is reserved only for guests, not servants."

It was the first time in his life that he had been referred to as a servant--and by a servant herself no less. The idea of being regarded in such a lowly fashion made him cringe. Maybe Estelle was right. Maybe he wouldn't last a week.

He made his way down a long winding cement path to the rear of the house and found the door open with the same young woman waiting for him.

"Come in," she said as he entered. "You can put your coat and things in the mud room over there." She indicated a small windowless room adjacent to the room in which they were standing, which itself was nothing more than a small antechamber filled with boxes and other sundry items. He deposited his coat and hat on the table and walked out into the room to find her poking inside a closet.

"My name is Rosy," she said, her backside facing him. "I'm one of the maids here."

"I assumed as much from your uniform," he replied genially.

"Black and white isn't my thing," she said. "But the mistress insists on it. She's quite the traditionalist."

"Is that right?"

"Oh, you can bet on it. Everything has to be done by the book. And God forbid you're tardy! She hates that more than anything. But you seem like a responsible kind of guy. You did arrive here early and that's good."

Rosy took a few steps back and he saw that she was holding a mop and bucket in her hand. She handed him the mop and stepped back to look at him. "You are very handsome. Ms. Rubinstein was right about that."

"She told you I was handsome?"

"Well, she didn't tell me exactly. I heard her talking on the phone the other day with one of her friends and she mentioned your name. Actually, she said you were incredibly handsome."

"I find that hard to believe."

"What? That you're handsome?"

"No; that she would say that about me."

"Why?"

"Let's just say that we're in a kind of adversarial relationship. I'm only here because I'll lose my job if I don't cater to her whims."

"Oh, I see. Well, I hope you don't mind catering because she has lots of whims. But don't worry. As long as you obey her, you'll have nothing to worry about."

She was an enchanting little creature he thought. She couldn't have been more than five feet tall but she had a very pretty face with long brown hair and expressive brown eyes that made him feel at ease. She took a few minutes to explain the layout of the house and what his duties were, handing him a piece of paper with his chores listed in the order in which they were to be performed on a daily basis.

"Your duties may change once in a while but the mistress will always let you know beforehand."

"You call her 'mistress'?" he asked, surprised.

"All the servants call her mistress, or Ms. Rubinstein."

"Yes, I found that out the other day."

"That's good. You must never call her by her first name. That would show lack of respect; a big no-no in this house."

"Do we lowly servants get lunch breaks?"

"Of course! We all do. See? It's written down at the bottom of your work schedule. One to two p.m. every day. Same as me."

"Oh, great! So, we can have lunch together!"

"We sure can!"

"And where do we take our lunch?"

"Right here in this room. On that little table over there. I hope you brought your lunch with you."

"No. I thought I'd go out and grab something."

"There aren't any food stores around here. This is the Back Bay. Rich people don't grab lunch like normal people do. But maybe I can share some of my lunch with you. Do you like meat loaf?"

"Yes, I do."

"Great! I'll be happy to share some with you."

"You're very kind."

She smiled at him and then led him through a maze of corridors until they arrived at a set of oak doors that opened up onto a magnificent ballroom with marble floors and rich crimson tapestry hanging from the walls.

"A ballroom?" he exclaimed. "It's beautiful! And so big!"

"The mistress entertains here quite a lot. She loves to dance."

He took a few steps onto the marble floor and performed an impromptu and ungainly pirouette, using the mop as his pretend dancing partner. "I'd dance a lot too if I had a floor like this to dance on."

"I'm glad you like it because your first chore is to wet mop the entire floor. It will probably take you several hours. You can get water and bleach in the supply closet outside the door."

"Very well. I guess I should get to work."

"I'll see you at one," she said, walking out the door. "If you need anything just call me on the house phone. Every room has one. Just dial 117."

"Okay, I will!" he replied as he watched her tiny body disappear down the hall.

This wasn't so bad, he thought. The work wasn't objectionable even if it was menial, and the girl was very sweet. And he had learned from her that tardiness, familiarity, and disobedience were on the verboten list. If he could manage to keep his attitude in check, he might just make it through the month without an infraction.

It took him almost four hours to complete his task. But when he was done the floor had taken on a luster that didn't exist before. He leaned against the mop, his face and upper body drenched in perspiration, feeling a sense of pride in his accomplishment.

"What are you doing?" a voice asked.

He turned around to find his arch nemesis standing directly behind him. She was dressed in a dark blue business suit and was wearing sunglasses. He thought she looked beautiful and was about to tell her so when she spoke again.

"Did you remember to polish the sconces?"

"I didn't know I was supposed to."

"Rosy must have forgotten to tell you."

"Well, I'm just about to take my lunch."

"That will have to wait. I have visitors here in an hour and that brass needs to be polished."

"But what about my lunch?"

"You can take it after you've finished polishing the sconces. It shouldn't take you more than an hour. You can find the polish and some cloths in the supply room. Now get to work."

And without another word to him she abruptly turned around and left the room.

What a bitch! he thought. And just when he was beginning to think things might not be all that bad. But he was proud of himself. He had managed to keep his cool even though he wanted to tell her to go to hell. He picked up the phone and called Rosy to tell her that he would have to work through lunch. But being the kind person she was, she told him that she would save some meat loaf for him. He thanked her and got to work.

He took his lunch alone in the supply room. It had taken him a little more than two hours to polish the sconces and it was now almost 4:00 p.m. Rosy only worked until 3:00 p.m., so he didn't even get a chance to see her before she left. It angered him to have his plans thwarted by Estelle in this way, but there was nothing he could do about it but stew in his own soup. He ate his lunch in silence, and when it was 5:00 p.m., he grabbed his coat and hat and left by the back door, feeling every bit as inconsequential as any slave at any time in history.

The next day was almost an exact repeat of the day before, but this time most of his efforts were concentrated on picking weeds in the garden behind the house. It was Rosy's day off, and he was pretty much left to fend for himself. But the highlight of the day was when he looked up to see Melody walking towards him carrying a little basket of fruit in her hand. She was dressed in jeans and a tee shirt, and she looked as if she had just stepped out of the beauty parlor.

"You look great!" he said to her as he took off his work gloves and invited her to sit down on a nearby bench. "What are you doing here?"

"Tuesdays and Fridays--remember?" she replied, putting the basket down on the bench. "Vivian wants me to check in on you--and her."

"Well, there's not much to report--at least not yet."

"No major run-ins with the wicked witch?"

"Nothing worth mentioning. So how are you?"

"I'm fine. Doug is fine. The kids are fine. I just wish you were back at the hospital. It's kind of lonely in the lab without you."

"Believe me, Melody, I wish I was back there too." He looked at the basket of fruit and removed an apple. "May I?"

"Go ahead. I know how much you love fruit."

"That was really very nice of you," he said, biting into the apple. "Your husband is lucky to have a woman like you."

"Oh, don't think for a moment that he doesn't know that. And if he gets forgetful, I make him remember--fast!"

He chuckled. "So how is everyone at the hospital? Anybody else miss me?"

"I know Vivian does. Sheila for sure. And Christiana has taken a liking to you too. And from what I've seen, she doesn't like many people."

"Why do you say that?"

"She just doesn't appear to be the trusting type. Can you blame her? Ever since she developed the EJAX drug she's had to defend herself in a hostile medical community run by men. I don't know about you, but that would have made me very cynical."

"I can understand that. She's a genius. And she's accomplished things that most scientists never will. That breeds envy and jealousy."

Melody suddenly turned her head to one side and caught a glimpse of someone approaching from the rear door of the house. "And speaking of envy and jealousy..."

It was Lily and Addison. They were both dressed in smart, casual designer wear and were laughing softly as they approached. In Lily's hands was an oversized pocketbook which she had flung over her shoulders. Both women looked as if they had imbibed a little too much liquor.

"Well, well, well," Lily said to Dickey. "Look at what we have here." She turned to Melody. "Hello, Melody."

"Hello Lily. Hello Addison," Melody replied. "It's nice to see you both again."

"Taking a break I see," Addison said to Dickey.

"I'm entitled," he replied without emotion.

"There are still some weeds that need to be picked," she noted, looking at some tall weeds on the outer edge of the garden.

"Thank you. I'll be getting to them shortly."

"You'd better do a good job. Your mistress will be greatly displeased if you leave even one tiny weed standing."

"She will?"

"Absolutely!" Lily said. "She loves this garden and she won't tolerate anything less than perfection."

"Then I shall endeavor to be perfect," he replied in a desultory tone.

Both girls giggled simultaneously.

"Have you two been drinking?" Melody asked them.

"Yes," Lily replied. "We've been drinking wine--all day."

"Cabernet Sauvignon, to be exact," Addison said, laughing gaily. "But don't tell Estelle. She thinks we're out here busting Dickey's ass."

"Is that what she told you to do?" Dickey asked them. "Bust my ass?"

"Do you expect anything less you poor slob? Of course, she wants to bust your ass. You deserve it!"

Once again, both women burst out laughing.

"And why are you here, Melody?" Lily asked.

"Weren't you two paying attention the other day? I'm here to make sure Dickey's not being treated in a cruel and unusual way inconsistent with Sisterhood regulations. And I'm also here to make sure that he's fulfilling his part of the bargain."

"Don't look at us," Lily said. "We haven't done anything to him."

"I thought you were going to bust his ass?"

"We're too drunk to bust anybody's ass," Addison replied.

"I'm glad to hear it."

Lily giggled softly and put her hand on Dickey's shoulder. "We're not going to bust your ass you handsome mother fucker. But don't say anything to Estelle."

"I won't," he replied, trying hard not to laugh.

"She would never forgive us if we didn't bust your ass just a little bit."

"Don't worry. I promise I'll keep my mouth shut."

"Good. What the bitch doesn't know won't hurt her." She turned around and faced Addison. "I think I'm going to be sick!"

With that the two women made a headlong dash for the house, tripping and falling over themselves every bit of the way. The sight of the two drunken women making utter fools of themselves made Dickey and Melody laugh out loud.

"What a fucking pair they make!" Dickey exclaimed. "Bust my ass! Ha!"

Melody pursed her lips in imitation of Addison. "Cabernet Sauvignon, to be exact!" she said, laughing heartily.

It was a precious moment that added some lightheartedness to an otherwise gloomy sentence. Satisfied that nothing was amiss, Melody hugged her friend and kissed him goodbye.

"I'll see you again on Friday...same time," she told him as she turned to leave.

"Thanks, Melody," he replied. "You're a true friend."

As he watched her walk away, his thoughts turned to the two drunken women. It seemed to him that maybe not everyone was happy with Estelle. The fact that Lily referred to her as a "bitch" told him a lot about the woman's loyalty to her superior. He returned to his work, making sure to pick the tall weeds on the periphery of the garden as Addison had so emphatically pointed out.

The rest of the week flew by. On Friday, he finally had a chance to sit down to lunch with Rosy. He came to find out that she was a trusted confidante of his mistress and that she was held in high esteem by all the staff, most of whom he never saw. When he asked her about why the house seemed so vacant, she laughed and told him that it wasn't always that way.

"We once had over two dozen servants working here at any time," she began. "But that all changed when the economy tanked. People think rich people aren't affected by the downturn, but they are. Ms. Rubinstein had to let go of eighteen people. That means that there are only six of us--including you--in charge of taking care of this house. I'm the one she's put in charge of keeping it all together."

"That's a big responsibility," he said, between mouthfuls. "This house is immense."

"Tell me about it. Sometimes I think I'm just going to keel over and die. It's just so much work now. Before it was much easier. You had all those people working together. Now you've got to break your back or risk losing your job."

"It's that way everywhere. You work more hours for less pay and there's absolutely no loyalty to be found anywhere. You can get thrown out on your ass at any time and for any reason. It's no wonder people today are paranoid. There's no way to know what's coming down the road."

She took a bite of her sandwich and nodded. "Nope. No way to know. For sure."

"And as bad as it is, most people say 'what the hell! It's better than being broke and unemployed!'"

"I've been there so I know what you're talking about."

"If you don't mind me asking. Does she pay you well?"

"I get the customary rate for a domestic servant. And there are a few perks."

"Like what?"

"She lets me use the pool. I can play tennis when the court's not in use. She even takes me for rides in her Lamborghini during the summer months. We went to the beach together last year and had lunch at Billy's Steak House in Martha's Vineyard."

Dickey shook his head in disbelief. "She did those things with you?"

"She's been doing things like that with me for years. She's not the monster you think she is."

"I never said she was a monster," he corrected her. "In fact, I never once told you what I thought of her."

"You didn't need to. I see it in the way you treat her. Like the other day you gave her the finger behind her back when you thought she wasn't looking. I was looking. I saw you do it. And I heard you say something vulgar to her too."

He reached for his glass of soda and took a sip. She was right of course. He had done all those things. Yet, for some strange reason, he had barely seen or interfaced with her for most of the week. For a woman who had promised to severely punish him for molesting her, she seemed strangely disinclined to carry out her threat.

"Look, Rosy," he said. "I don't know how much Ms. Rubinstein told you..."

"It's okay, Dickey. You don't have to explain. I know all about you."

"You do?"

"Yes."

"Well, if what you know about me is coming from our boss then..."

"It's not just her. I read about you on Brigham & Women's website. You're a good guy, Dickey. But you are conceited and a little arrogant too. But I think you know that already."

He laughed. "I hate to admit it but it's true."

"And you don't like to be pushed around."

"Right there too!"

"And having to demean yourself by working here for nothing, and for a woman you dislike, has got to be a terrible blow to your pride."

"You can't tell me that you wouldn't feel the same way if you were in my position."

"I don't know. I'm not you. Maybe I'd react differently. Maybe I'd admit that I was wrong to hurt those women and take my punishment without complaint. After all, Ms. Rubinstein could have said no to Dr. Swensen's offer."

"How do you know about that?"

"Ms. Rubinstein confides in me all the time. I think I'm the voice of her conscience to tell you the truth."

He stared at her for a moment and then realized something that had been eating away at him all the time he had worked there: Rosy was more than just a servant; she was Estelle's friend and confidante. It seemed improbable but true. And when he thought about Lily's faux pas earlier that day, it made sense that the rich heiress would find succor in the company of a woman who could never pose a threat to her; unlike the two drunk harpies whose true loyalties were vividly revealed to him.

"Tell me something," he said. "I've barely seen Ms. Rubinstein this whole week. Do you know why that is?"

"She's a very busy woman. Sometimes I don't see her for weeks at a time."

"But it doesn't make sense."

"I don't understand."

"Well, for a woman who swore she was going to punish me, she's got a strange way of showing it."

"And you're complaining about that?"

"No. I just think it's odd that's all."

Rosy chuckled softly. "I think you'll find that her bark is worse than her bite. Don't get me wrong. She can be a real bitch sometimes--but only if you cross her. Otherwise, she'll leave you alone."

He took another bite of his sandwich and then finished off the rest of his soda. "I actually bumped into the cook today. She seemed very nice."

"Nancy. She's great. And a great cook too."

"She told me that Ms. Rubinstein was planning a big party here in a few weeks. Do you know anything about it?"

Rosy shook her head. "All I know is that it's going to be a very big affair with lots of very important people. Why?"

"Well, you said that she confides in you."

"Yeah? So?"

"Did she mention any particulars? You know, like why she's throwing a party and for whom?"

"I remember her saying something about 'sisters'; that the party was being thrown for a bunch of women who belonged to some big organization. I don't think she mentioned the name."

"Sisterhood? Does that ring a bell?"

She thought for a moment and then her eyes lit up. "Yes! I think that's what she called it! How did you know?"

"Let's just say I entertained some of them at the hospital last week. I won't go into the details."

"Oh, okay," she replied. "If you'd rather not."

"I'm assuming she didn't tell you anything about it."

"No. She may confide in me but she doesn't tell me everything."

"Of course not."

He wondered just how much she really knew about the Sisterhood. He could not gauge from her reactions if she was lying or if she was telling the truth. It seemed to him highly probable that she knew more than she was letting on. But then again, Estelle may have purposely kept her in the dark about the clandestine organization. It was hard to tell.

But the more he considered the matter, the more it made sense that Estelle would keep the truth from her, if only to prevent her from revealing the truth to him. And that truth was simply that if indeed the party was being thrown for the Sisterhood, it was more than likely that he would figure prominently in the affair.