Lost

I do my best to stop my tears as I move to my new bed and start to put on my new uniform. I haven’t checked to see if the door is locked, but the hallway outside is so narrow, footsteps echo down it, as I have learned when Elvira left, so I know that I should have fair warning if anyone is coming in.

As I pull on the short black dress, I look around the room. It doesn’t take long, the space is so small. But it’s better than the room I’ve left behind. Certainly, the bed, where the mattress is fairly soft and the bedding is high quality, is nicer than my old, smelly mattress on the floor in my parents’ apartment. This place would do well enough. If… if my parents were here.

Putting on the apron, I think about the trip here, how long it took, the roads we took to get from the city to the palace. I imagine it would be possible for Ruby to run the entire distance home in a few hours. I know that I can’t do that. Putting my parents’ agreement with Mr. Kurts into jeopardy is not in anyone’s best interest. Still, imagining that I could do it is something that might help me pass the time while I’m here.

Once I am dressed in the outfit, tugging at the hem to make sure my bottom is covered, which it is but only by a few inches, I cross to the mirror. I will need to put my hair up in some fashion similar to Elvira’s and then put on the little white hat. Luckily, there are bobby pins, ponytail holders, and a brush on the counter. The brush has a few blonde hairs in it. I pull them out and toss them in a trash can next to the dresser and then manage to get my hair into a high ponytail and pin it up similarly to the way that Elvira wore hers. I think about the blonde hairs and assume they belong to my roommate. What was her name? It was something odd, and it hasn’t stuck in my brain. I suppose I will find out soon enough.

Satisfied that I look as respectable as possible, I pull my own hair out of the brush, hoping my new roommate is nice and doesn’t mind that I haven’t brought one of my own, and tuck my clothing into an empty drawer. Then, I am drawn back to the mirror.

My eyes are a little puffy from crying, but not too bad. I consider touching up my makeup before I go. I have only a little bit of eyeshadow, some concealer, and a tube of lipstick in my backpack. It’s not a good shade on me, but it was on sale, so I bought it instead of a color I’d like better. Deciding there’s no one here to try and impress, I give up on making myself look any better and head out the door.

I have no idea where Elvira said I was supposed to go, just a vague notion of returning to the kitchen and attempting to figure it out from there. Remembering that we went up three flights of stairs, I head down, knowing that the kitchen is on the ground level of the home.

Eventually, I hear the clinking of dishes and know that I am almost to the kitchen. The scent of baking bread hits my lungs, and my stomach growls. I haven’t eaten anything but the eggs a few hours ago, and I am starving. But I can’t think about that right now. I need to find the library.

The kitchen staff is bustling around as I step through the door from the backstair case. I smile, not because I am happy but because I want to be friendly. I want to be liked. No one will look at me. They speak only to each other in quiet, hushed towns, and even more than before, I get the impression that the kitchen staff, mostly older women, do not like the maids.

Sensing I won’t get a response if I ask where to go, I study the options before me. Besides the exterior doors that we used to enter the house, there are three more doors in various places throughout the room. I seem to recall Elvira telling me to take the middle door. Was that what she said? Deciding it is as good a guess as any, I wait for my path to the center door to clear of kitchen workers and head across the room, my new black soled shoes making very little noise on the tile. I am careful not to leave scuff marks behind. I don’t know if maids clean the kitchen or if the kitchen staff tidies up after themselves, but I don’t want to be the girl who makes a mess.

I go through the center door and find myself in a hallway--facing more hallways. “This house is like a maze,” I mutter. It’s so large and so full of rooms, I feel like I will always be lost.

I can’t remember what Elvira told me to do, so I make a guess and choose to go down the closest hallway to me. I quickly learn that the library is not located here. This hall leads to a large room full of war artifacts--battle flags, suits of armor, that sort of thing. It’s fascinating, and I could spend a lot of time standing here looking at all of it, but this is not where I’m meant to be.

I return to the place that I left and choose a different hallway, still not locating the library. I am growing frustrated on my third try, and I imagine my roommate is beginning to wonder if I am ever going to show up. I choose another hallway, walking quickly but taking a moment to peer in the open doors as I pass. Some of them are closed, and there’d be no way for me to know whether or not they are the library. I consider knocking, or pushing them open but don’t. I am considering going back to the kitchen to ask for directions. The staff there might not like me, but at least they are people and can tell me where to go. So far, my wanderings have met with no living, breathing people, only statues, artwork, and the mentioned knights in armor, whose helmets, I assume, are empty.

I reach the end of this hallway and am greeted with more choices in hallways to my left and right. I don’t think that Elvira said anything about going down a different hallway, so I decide to go back. Frustrated, I turn around quickly and slam right into what feels like a solid wall made of concrete or marble. “Oh, shit,” I mutter, my head beginning to sting.

But this wall smells like the woods and makes a low grunting noise when my head hits it.

I look up and know immediately it’s not a wall I’ve slammed into. It’s a person. A guy. A hot guy in nice clothes with green eyes that bore through mine into my soul.

“Are you okay?” the marble wall asks me as I take a step back, my hand rising to rub the sore spot on my forehead before I can comprehend what is happening.

It’s him! It’s the guy I saw outside on the sidewalk near my parents’ apartment on the last day of school! Of course it is…. I shouldn’t be surprised to see him here. He got into the car with Grip, after all. I hadn’t allowed myself to think about him much since that day, but now that I am staring into those penetrating green eyes, I can’t help but take him in fully.

He is by far the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. I noticed the first time I laid eyes on him that he was stunning. But now… this close to him, looking up into his face, I can’t help but notice his perfectly angled nose, the strongly set jaw, the way his dark hair has just the slightest wave to it. His lips are lush and soft, a faded pink. Those eyes, though. That’s what has me standing there with my mouth hanging open like an idiot. I seem to have forgotten how to speak at all.

“Is your head all right?” He tries again, an amused expression taking over his face. “I didn’t mean to… frighten you.”

I am many things at the moment--shocked, stunned, in awe, damp in certain unmentionable places. Frightened is not one of the emotions I am feeling. “I’m… fine,” I stammar, removing my hand from my head.

“Good.” He looks genuinely relieved. “Are you lost?”

I nod. Any words that attempt to fall from my mouth will be nonsensical. 

“What room are you looking for?” he asks me, a friendly tone to his voice that invites me to reply, even though my tongue is wedged against the top of my mouth.

“Library,” I manage to eke out.

He nods. “Ah, I see you’ve taken a wrong turn. It’s this way.” He offers me his arm, like I am some sort of a grand lady, and he’s escorting me to a ball.

I slip my arm through his the way I might have if this was my palace and he was a suitor. I hope no one else sees us because they might scold both of us for touching one another. But then… I haven’t seen another soul for days--well, a long time anyway.

He leads me back the way I came. “This is your first day, isn’t it?” he asks as we walk.

I nod my head, still not trusting my mouth.

“I can imagine it will take some getting used to,” he says, his tone sympathetic. I wonder if he knows what my situation was before, not when I lived in the shabby apartment, but before that. I say nothing. “I hope that you will like it here. It’s different for sure but, most everyone is nice enough. Mim, your roommate, she’s sweet. You’ll hear her singing as we get closer to the library, I have no doubt.” He chuckled. “She loves to sing.”

I look at him, not sure what to say even if I could find words. The fact that he speaks so highly of Mim makes me wonder if he likes her, which is ridiculous. I’m not sure who he is, but clearly, he is not staff. He is important. She is just a maid. Like me.

“Do you sing, Aria?” he asks me.

I shake my head no before I even stop to consider the question. The truth is, I do sing. But not in front of people.

“Really?” he asks, stopping a second to look at me before we continue. He leads me around a corner, and I am back in the first hall, outside of the kitchen. We go to our right, which would’ve been my left, coming out of the kitchen. I hadn’t made it this far yet. “I’m surprised. With a name like that, I would’ve assumed you’d love to sing.”

Aria--a piece of music for one, solo voice, usually in a longer work, like an opera. My mother loved to sing. She’d also thought my name was beautiful, light and floaty--like air. I have no answer for this kind gentleman, so I say nothing. Ahead of us, I hear an off-kilter tune spilling from an open door and realize we have found the library--and Mim.

“Here we are,” he says, and I instinctively pull my arm away. He doesn’t go into the room, just stops short of the door. “If you need anything… let us know.”

I don’t know who “us” entails or how I would let anyone know when there are more rooms than people here, but I nod. “Thank you,” I say, meaning for both the escort and his kindness.

“Of course,” he tells me. He takes a few steps backward, but his eyes are still locked on my face, and I wonder if there’s more I’m supposed to say. “I’m Sebastian, by the way,” he tells me.

“Sebastian?” I say his name, not because I didn’t hear him the first time but because I want to feel his name roll around in my mouth, feel it slide off of my tongue, hear my voice reverberate each phoneme. 

He smiles at me for a second and then turns around to leave, and I hear an excited voice chirping my name from inside the library and the spell is broken.