The bleat of the phone jarred Sugar into dropping the silver polishing gear she had just gathered to attack the “company utensils,” the formal silverware they used only to impress guests. She stripped off her rubber gloves and straightened her clothing. She smoothed back her hair and raised her chin.
Oscar growled at her from the other end, “You don’t make callers wait, you dumb git. Everyone knows that. Except you. And you wonder why you haven’t earned the right to go out on your own. You’re nowhere near ready.”
“I had some housework I couldn’t put down.”
“There’s no such thing. You have no idea what it is to do real work so you’re starting to get uppity, thinking all that crap you do is of equal importance to everyone else.”
“Well, the house would be a mess without it.”
“No. You see, you can be replaced. For everything you do, there’s someone who will do it for money and, considering all the trouble you cause me and the constant expense of your upkeep, it would be cheaper that way. In fact, I’m sitting here wondering why I don’t cut you loose and do just that. At least I’d finally get some quality homemaking.”
Sugar closed her eyes and imagined the way it would be if she lost her place. She saw the old woman with the shopping cart down by the park, the one the two cops arrested for vagrancy. She remembered their hard words and the way her tears made the lady cop holler. “You should’ve thought of that when you decided to become homeless, you worthless old hag!” It was raining and the old woman didn’t even have an umbrella. Sugar shivered.
“You listening?” Oscar demanded. “I called to tell you I’ll be late getting home. The boss has us doing special inventory. We each have to take our own sections and go over them with a checklist. That’s some serious work, chickie. Our store meets all the electronics needs for the greater bay area. It’s a huge responsibility. And guess what? I’ll be in charge of this whole thing as senior day manager.”
“Sounds big.”
“Outta sight big. So, I’ll be late and not sure when I’ll get home. Wait for me to have dinner and make sure the whole thing doesn’t get burnt.”
“Yes of course.”
“Of course…You say that like you never ruined my dinner before. Just remember, I can do away with you any time.” The call ended right then.
Sugar hung up and considered the kitchen. She saw a spot on the wall, small and blended into the wallpaper. She wetted a sponge and scrubbed at it. Looking up, she saw a water spot on the handle of the oven. “He’s right,” she muttered. “This place is barely acceptable.”
She stowed the sponge and dug out the bottle of all-purpose cleaner.
