“It better not,” Carol snarled. “Buck your ideas up, girl, and put some graft in.”
The more she snapped criticism at my free labour, the more I dropped my head and stewed in this rare feeling of humiliation. I was so good at my job, that I hardly ever made mistakes, so being talked down to or made to feel embarrassed was something completely unfamiliar these days. Even when clients complained, especially ones of Carol’s ilk, I’d deal with their problems with patience because I was still in control. Even when they became rude, and had to go out of my way to maintain face, I’d brush it off, because I was being paid. This was different, however. It reminded me of being youthful again, and how I’d feel whenever a boy would catch me looking their way, or if one told me they liked me. My usually tanned skin would immediately take on a crimson flush; I’d shake in a mixture of fear and exhilaration while my tummy would twist and turn. My teeth would chatter and I’d get pins and needles in my fingers and toes. It was both mortifying and yet a sensory overload at the same time; my body seeming to take on a will of its own at the stimulation from an outside force of which I couldn’t control. I’d look about in a panic, convinced that others could see the way I was bashfully responding, and that in turn would only compound the experience further. Despite being shy, I lived for those moments back in school as they were almost a reminder that I was alive, and now, bizarrely, I was feeling similar sensations whenever Carol lambasted me, or I sneaked glimpses at her completely at ease while she put me to work. It made no sense, but I couldn’t deny the response of my own body to her goading and demands.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said a final time, and I finished raking up the grass and moved onto the pond area. There was plenty of leaves that needed fishing out, as well as algae that had collected near the sides and required scraping off.
Carol continued to enjoy her book for the next half or so, before she abruptly stood and headed into the house without a word. Immediately, I breathed a sigh of relief, and it was almost as if the haze I’d been existing in dissipated now she was out of view. No longer was I taunted by her enjoying her book while I worked, and it was almost as if the incentive had been taken away and a clearer mind returned to me.
I screwed up my forehead in confusion. Jodie, what the hell are you doing? I thought. I glanced around the garden and took in how good it looked. I’d been hard at work for hours by this point, and I’d pretty much delivered her a free landscaping. If I’d put as much effort into my own yard then it would have looked immaculate and homely. Instead, I’d wasted an entire afternoon on Carol. This was Carol, for God’s sake, that annoying Karen-like bane of my life, and I’d been working for her benefit? All because she had stuck her beak into my private party on my property.
I shivered and stood from my crouched position near the pond, almost feeling disgusted with myself. I’d done more than enough to make up for that stupid fine she’d issued me, and she was taking me for a fool. I was about to down tools and leave, when a throat being cleared from above startled me. I looked up and saw that Carol was now wearing a silk robe, while looking over the balcony. She had an annoying straw hat on above her sunglasses. Typical Carol, I thought. Who doesn’t wear a hat in the sun, but then dons one once inside?
“How’s the garden coming along, girl?” she asked while stepping up near the rail and leaning on her elbows. She looked down at me while sipping a steaming cup of tea, her eyes moving around the garden while she nodded her head.
Simply being called ‘girl’ by her was enough to bring back those strange feelings, and my response was shaped as a result. “Very well, ma’am. Almost finished.”
“I can see everything from much better up here.” She chuckled to herself. “It’s like a landowner checking the workers aren’t sitting down on the job at a vineyard.” She then made eye contact with me before shrugging. “You know what you migrants are like. You need constant observation.”
I blinked, barely able to comprehend the casual racism that was being thrown my way. Was she implying I was lazy and an illegal because my skin was slightly tanned? I mean, my grandfather was originally from Botswana, but I was as much a native of our country as she was. She was so blunt that I figured I must have misheard her. “What do you mean–”
She’d already waved her hand to silence me while taking another sip of her tea. She then narrowed her eyes in disapproval, before pointing her foot out between the bars of the balcony fence and turning her ankle to point at various spots of her yard. “Make sure everything is the same length. Rake and bag it all up afterwards, then you get can started on trimming the bits along the edges that meet the flower patches.”
“I’m finished?” I said in surprise. I was truly staggered that she was unhappy with what I’d done. I’d spent all bloody morning working my fingers to the bone. “You’re not happy with it?”
She grimaced; a bitter distaste evident on her curled lips. “You think that’s a good job?” She pointed with her toes towards a particular bush near the far fence. “I can see from here it’s completely uneven.”
I looked over at said bush and had no idea what she was talking about. It was a bush, after all. “What’s wrong with it?” I asked.
“I don’t like it. Isn’t that enough?” She raised her eyebrow. “Do you have a problem with that? Because you’re lucky I don’t have you clean inside too.” She gave a final grimace around the yard. “I’d hardly say this pitiful work makes up for your fine.”
I swallowed, then sheepishly looked away beneath her authoritative stare. Already my skin was tingling even more from the odd sensation of unjust humiliation that she seemed to bring out in me. Immediately, all reservations and defiance abandoned me, and I longed to squirm beneath Carol’s expectant demands once more; it was deliciously fulfilling to stew beneath her scornful stare, despite me utterly loathing her. It was like I was trapped in a purgatory, but one that I found immensely satisfying? The work was more than good enough, but Carol still wasn’t happy, she never seemed to be happy and nothing I did was good enough for her. I almost felt like I was inconveniencing her by insisting the work was up to standard, and a dire need to bow to her petulant nit-picking arose once more. It was wrong, and not how a Karen should be treated, but I was lured to acquiesce to her unreasonable viewpoint. “No, ma’am. I’ll get it done,” I said, my breath becoming hot as I shivered with unfathomable excitement. “I’ll do it until you’re happy with it.” I almost fainted at the thought of having to do this sort of work forever because Carol could never be satisfied. What the hell was going on in my mind?
“Good, because I want my yard looking spick and span. Not like that deplorable excuse for a garden of yours. If you don’t get that into shape, then I’ll be re-imposing your fine and I’m not afraid to drag you through the courts to get it settled.” I caught a smirk before her lips disappeared behind the tea cup. “We both know what that means, don’t we? Since you can’t afford to pay your penalties.” She nodded inside her bedroom. “I have plenty of other chores in here for you to make up what you owe.”
“That won’t be necessary, ma’am,” I said while swallowing nervously. “I’ll get the garden finished.”
“We’ll see,” she said, before turning and going back into her bedroom.
I spent the remainder of the afternoon groaning and griping as I raked around the garden, levelling all of the grass and neatly trimming the edges so that the entire yard looked pristine. Occasionally, Carol would stroll out onto the balcony and watch me work, making sure to point and chastise me for any area I apparently missed. Each time my body would react in a bizarre way as I clutched the rake, my head dipping as I heeded her criticism and responded accordingly. Even when I knew that she was wrong in her assessment, and I repeatedly had to go over the same patch of grass, I did so, because Carol was up above me and arrogantly instructing me to. It was unfair how she always seemed to get her way, with everyone fearful in the community, but for that reason, a part of me was allowing her to continue to do so at my own expense. It was just so tempting, like looking at something you knew you shouldn’t, or putting your finger into a hole where you knew it may get stuck. I knew in my heart that Carol didn’t deserve to have me slaving for her, especially with her atrocious behaviour, but I couldn’t resist the draw to do so and the odd feelings it brought to the fore. It was like a cut in the mouth that I couldn’t stop from tonguing; the worse it got, the more I wanted to do it.
Once finished, I leant up against the tree in the corner of her yard and grimaced, completely exhausted. The garden looked fabulous, and I was strangely proud of my work, yet humiliated that it had all been for Carol’s benefit. My garden was already overgrowing since I hadn’t had the chance to buy a lawnmower yet, and here I was, slaving under the demanding authority of a woman I truly loathed and who had ruined my experience of my first home. I’d spent all afternoon blushing while I worked so publicly for her, convinced that the other neighbours were watching from behind their curtains and disgusted with what a pushover I was.
“You better be finished.” I heard from the balcony while catching my breath. Carol had re-emerged, in all of her annoying majesty. The robe had been abandoned, and she was now wearing some matching sports tracksuit, the kind she always donned whenever she was power-walking around the facility and looking for something to pedantically jobsworth over. It was like her specialised uniform, and she had on that dweeby visor tucked into her hair. “Because I won’t tolerate you standing around on the job if there’s still work to do.”
Will there a part 2?