Dreamer, Marie Reza [android based ebook reader TXT] 📗

“Shoot.”
“Well, it’s about just a minute ago… I paused—I wanted to get my thoughts straight; I didn’t want to look like I was nosy. “You were talking to Mrs. Ellen on the phone; I didn’t mean to listen but you mentioned my name… I just want to know why…” My voice trailed off as I saw my mother’s panicked face—what had I said?
My mother composed her features before answering me. “You need to get dressed; you’ll be late to the estate.” The way she spoke was too distant…it took me a moment to realize that she was being reluctant.
“Mother, what is it that you are not telling me? I mean, I only want to know why you and Mrs. Ellen were talking about me. Is that too much to ask?”
My mother didn’t answer me. She just turned around and left.
Danielle waited for me this time. She noticed that my face was wary; she asked me why.
“Well, while I was in the shower, I heard my mother talking on the phone with Mrs. Ellen; they mentioned my name.”
“Well, did you ask your mother why she was talking about you?”
“Yeah, but she didn’t answer me. It was as if she wasn’t allowed to or something.”
Danielle thought about that for a second. “Hmm…. Why don’t you talk with Mrs. Ellen? I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding and you’re just being a paranoid.” She chuckled.
“You’re right.” I said. This all had to be a misunderstanding. But, then again, why didn’t my mother answer my harmless question? “Let’s go.”
We went to the estate together; she had to clean the mirrors, so we said goodbye.
I went to the kitchen to get Mr. Edwards’ breakfast. She was alone—perfect. I needed this conversation to be private. I hated it when people talked behind my back—I rather they face me and tell me what they had to say.
“Good morning, Mrs. Ellen.” I said cheerfully.
“Oh!” Mrs. Ellen gasped—I must have taken her by surprise; she must have been very distracted. “G-good morning to you too, Amber. How do you do?”
“I’m doing fine, just as always.” I chuckled. When are you not in a good mood? I thought.
“Well… there’s Mr. Edwards’ breakfast. Hurry on now, you don’t want to make him angry.”
“Alright, but before I go, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure. What do want to ask me?” she said, surprised.
“Well—first of all—are you busy? I don’t mean to disrupt your work.” If she were busy, I would talk to her later, I thought.
“No, not at all. I need someone to talk to me. It feels like everybody in this place only need me for my cooking. Let’s talk.” She grinned at me.
“Well, it’s just that I heard my mother talking on the phone this morning…with you. And I heard my mother mention my name. I just want to know why you two were talking about me,” I concluded.
Mrs. Ellen’s face went blank and pale white—just the same as it had done with my mother. “W-well, Amber, did you talk to your mother about this? You should ask Anna about this, not me.” She was suddenly so busy that she needed to look down to play with her fingers.
“Well, that’s sort of the problem. I already talked to my mother, but she wouldn’t tell me what you two were saying about me,” I explained. “C’mon, Mrs. Ellen. I need you to tell me.”
She started to push me away, as if she were in a hurry for me to leave.
“Wait,” I said angrily. She looked at me, shocked—I don’t think I had ever used that tone before; I was surprised at myself. “You still haven’t answered my question. You and my mother were talking about me, and I want to know why.” I was getting louder—I needed to control my voice if I wanted this conversation to continue to be private.
I tried to control my voice so that it could be soothing and pleasant. “I just want to know why.”
Mrs. Ellen sighed. I could see in her eyes that she was determined to keep her lips shut.
“Well, then,” I finally said. “I can see that you are not going to tell me anything. Thank you so much for your help.” My voice was full of sarcasm at the end.
I grabbed Mr. Edwards’ breakfast and stalked out of the kitchen.
“Amber, wait,” Mrs. Ellen was behind me. Had she changed her mind? It looked like it.
“…they are going to kill me because of this…” She murmured. I stared at her, my eyes full of patience. She looked at me then, that look of determination in her eyes again. “Talk to Mr. Edwards. He was going to tell you this yesterday—during your birthday party—but he couldn’t,” She sighed. “I hope I don’t commit something horrid,” She murmured to herself. She looked at me again. “Go,” was all she said, and then went back to the kitchen.
This was all very strange to me. In the estate nobody ever told any lies. There was no reason to lie. Unless…
What if people lied all the time—my mother, Mrs. Ellen, Mr. Edwards—but I just didn’t catch them in the lie? I didn’t know what to do if that were true. And what did Mr. Edwards want to tell me? I was very curious.
I started walking to Mr. Edwards’ room, when I saw Danielle; she was cleaning the windows that were just behind Mr. Edwards’ room. As soon as she saw me, she dropped her cleaning utensils and was practically sprinting towards me.
“What happened? Did you talk to Mrs. Ellen? What did she say?” She was already talking before I was close enough to hear her.
I grimaced. “She only told me to go talk to Mr. Edwards. She said that he was going to talk to me yesterday during the birthday party…but then he decided that he didn’t want to, or something like that. I didn’t really understand much.” I admitted.
Danielle seemed deep in thought. “Well, then. Why don’t you go now to Mr. Edwards and ask him about this?”
“Hmm… you’re right. I should go… I’ll see you later, Danni.”
I walked towards Mr. Edwards’ room. I didn’t really know why, but I was suddenly anxious and apprehensive about this conversation. But there was no need to be neither anxious nor apprehensive. I sighed, knowing that when I knocked on the door, enter, and then talk to Mr. Edwards, everything would be back to normal.
I tapped the door lightly three times.
Come on, come on, come on…
“Come in, Amber. It’s open.”
I opened the door.
Just like every single day, I saw Mr. Edwards in his bed, newspaper on both hands, with an expectant smile on his lips. Everyday I walked into his room, and everyday, he seemed very happy to see me.
“Good morning, Mr. Edwards. How did you sleep?”
“Just as always.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that,”
The tone of my voice seemed to catch Mr. Edwards’ attention. “Is there something wrong? You look…absent.” He concluded.
“Do I?” I asked
“Yes…Is there something wrong with you? Are the workers being rude to you?” He asked angrily. “Tell me their names, and I’ll fire them immediately.”
I was startled by his hypothesis. Nobody was ever mean to me. “Nobody is being rude. And if they were, you wouldn’t need to fire them.” I told him. And even if they did deserve to be fired, I would probably be sick with guilt—it would be my fault that they were fired. “No, I actually have a question to ask you.” The worry and the tension started to come back. I chewed on my lower lip.
“He looked at me with eyes that were full of sweetness and adoration. “You can ask me whatever you want.”
I hesitated. Would Mrs. Ellen get in trouble because of this? I really hoped not.
Mr. Edwards saw that I was hesitant with my question. “What is it, Amber? Please, do not be shy. Go ahead,” He encouraged me.
“Well, I’m not going to ask you right away. I want to explain my question to you before I actually ask it.” He was right. I was shy.
“Go ahead,” He repeated. He looked very curious…and clueless.
I sighed. I was looking down while I was talking. “I was taking a shower, when I heard my mother talking in the phone. I wasn’t paying attention—they were just murmurs. When I shut the water off, I heard my mother much more clearly.” I paused. I didn’t know why this was just so difficult to say. I thought it was embarrassment and shyness. “At first they were just laughing and talking about the party. But then…Mrs. Ellen asked something and my mom went serious. And all of the sudden, they were talking about me. They were talking about somebody else, too. Someone who was overprotective.” I glanced at him. His jaw was now rigid and tight. His eyes were also tight, too. I continued. “The only person who is overprotective—the only person who worries to the extremes about me—is you. I mean, not even my mother is hysterical the way you sometimes are—” I stopped abruptly. I had never told him that. That was practically insulting him. I blushed. He only chuckled, but his jaw was still tight, as were his eyes. I continued.
“My mother told Mrs. Ellen that you—if you really are the ‘overprotective one’—were going to tell me something—something important it seemed.” I had to stop now. Mr. Edwards had to say something. I looked up to see his face. Instead of the tight expression he had just a minute ago, his face now seemed pained. I had caused him pain. I felt horrible.
He composed his features quickly, but the pain in his eyes was still very clear. “Did you ask your mother about this?” He whispered.
“Well, yeah, and that’s the problem. I asked her about this, and she seemed, I don’t know…scared. She didn’t even answer me. She just turned around…and left.”
“What about Mrs. Ellen?” He was still whispering.
I nodded while answering. “I asked her, too. She was just as helpful as my mother. Only…in the end, she told me to talk to you about this. I’m assuming that she wanted you to explain this…” I paused to organize my thoughts. If this was confusing to me, then this was certainly confusing to him. “Then, she muttered something about not committing something horrid…” I looked up to see what Mr. Edwards’ expression was this time. This time his eyebrows were pulled together, his nostrils were flared, and his eyes were tight, and his mouth was a thin line. His breathing was becoming accelerated. He was angry. Furious, to be exact.
“I realize that I haven’t asked the question,” I added. The only thing I wanted now was for Mr. Edwards to calm down.
“No, you haven’t,” He said. “Go ahead, ask me.”
I cleared my throat. Let’s just get this over with.
“Mr. Edwards, what is it that you want to tell me? And why were Anna and Mrs. Ellen talking about me?” I realized now that I had two—but still vital—questions that he had to answer.
“Those are two questions, not one,” he said reluctantly. He glanced away.
I just looked at him. “Please,” was all I said.
“Alright, then,” he said indifferently. He leaned over to grab the phone. He dialed the number, and then waited for a few seconds. “Anna,” he started to say. My eyes widened. Had I also gotten my mother in trouble? Oh, no. “Could you please come to my room? And also bring Claire.” He hung up.
I was right to have asked him about this. Mr. Edwards can’t be mad at me just because