*****
Maggie made a face when Burt shoved a mug of
steaming hot coffee at her at 5 a.m.
“Tea drinker, Burt,” she managed to mumble.“Coffee’s the drink here, girl. Get used to it. It’ll jump start your day.”
Maggie and Burt traveled to the hotel together every morning.
After three weeks, she still wasn’t used to getting up at five.
They walked to the subway together in silence, Maggie not awake enough to talk
or listen.
The work at the hotel was hard. She lifted heavy
bundles and carted piles and piles of sheets and towels. And sometimes
disgusting, too. Shocked at what people did to hotel rooms or
what they left behind, she'd shake her head and mutter to herself. Emptying waste baskets with used condoms in them made
her sigh.
Her workday finished at three thirty. She’d return home and flop in bed for a nap. At five, Maggie was alone in
the house. Bored and broke, she'd cook. When her roommates returned at
six, they were grateful to have a hot meal waiting for them. And Maggie never
had to do the washing up afterward. She’d mastered the art of cleaning up while remaining invisible. One day, while she was returning with her load of dirty linens, she heard a baby crying. The door to the hotel room was cracked open.
Peeking inside, she saw a beautiful blonde woman, holding an infant and walking to and fro with him while he wailed.
Her eyes,
full with tears threatening to spill over, connected with Maggie’s. Crap! Am I
going to get in trouble for peeping?
A shiver of fear shot up her spine as
she returned to her cart. The door opened.
“Wait,” said a trembling, female voice. “Do you
know anything about children?” By now, a few tears had escaped and were running
down her cheeks.“Six younger brothers and sisters, so I guess you could say I do.”
“Please help me. I don’t know what he wants.”
Fearful she was overstepping her boundaries, Maggie crossed the threshold of the suite anyway. She reminded herself what her boss had said. The guest comes first. Whatever they want, we provide.
The woman handed the baby to Maggie. He had a bit of dark hair and beautiful blue eyes, bathed in tears. His little face was red from crying. She spoke to him in a soft voice and rubbed his back with one hand while she chested him with the other. The child gave forth with a loud burb, then quieted down.
“I’ll take him now. And thank you.” The woman pulled a twenty dollar bill from her pocket and pressed it into Maggie’s hand.
“No need…”
“Please. I insist.”
Maggie nodded, grateful for the extra cash.
“My name’s Anne Roberts,” she said, holding out her free hand.
“Maggie. How old is he?”
“About eight months. Thank you, again.” She smiled and closed the door.
Maggie stopped to lean against the wall and close her eyes. He’s about the age mine woulda been.
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