Apotheosis

Her name wasn’t Tina, Tammy wanted to scream.

“Bring the coffee, Tina.”

“Tina, come take this tray.”

“There’s dust underneath the end table, Tina. Come quickly and clean it!”

“Do this!”

“Do that!”

“Hurry up, Tina!”

Her name wasn’t Tina, Tammy wanted to scream. She swallowed that indignant voice as she had done since she came to work for the Milton family five years ago. Had it only been five years? Her time under this expensive yet suffocating roof seemed to stretch on and on, capturing a lifetime of disrespect and humiliation.

As a servant, Tammy was accustomed to saying, “Yes, ma’am,” and, “Of course, miss.” So she was as surprised as anyone else when people began to make way for her on crowded sidewalks. Even going so far as to respectfully bow to her when she answered the Miltons’ front door. Tammy froze up, unused to being seen in such a way.

Mr. Milton couldn’t look in her direction without fearful tears streaming down his cheeks. Mrs. Milton cast off her jewelry and threw it at Tammy’s feet. The children were silent and afraid whenever Tammy entered the room.

For her part, Tammy didn’t question this sudden ascension to apotheosis. All her life, she had been mild and meek. This was her reward, and who knew how long it would last. This great family in their stately home feared that she would turn this newfound power on them. Force them to be her servants or evict them from their own property.

Tammy did neither. She promptly handed in her resignation, then returned to the boarding house to pack her bags.

The world was so much bigger than one family who thought nothing of the people beneath them. With one word, the world and everyone in it would be hers.