The Maid's Diary

by Loreth Anne White

Perfection is deception. An illusion. It’s a carefully curated but false narrative.

scatter what remains of her.

Wealthy with a guilt-driven narrative that screams: I care. About climate! The environment! Racism! The underclass!

overstuffed chairs upholstered in a cabbage rose print. Crocheted doilies hanging over the backs.

Getting old and sick is not for the meek, I tell you.” She hesitates, coughs. “It’s such hard work sometimes I wonder if it’s worth fighting to stay alive.”

hit with this bolt of instant familiarity?

Sometimes life direction is not a choice. It’s imposed on us. Against our will.

what people choose to hide from others tells you the most about them.

when you choose your Story, you’re in fact also choosing your life. We are—or we become—what we pretend to be, so we must be very careful who we pretend to be.

She moves like a ballet dancer, with a powerful and fluid grace.

He wears glasses, too. They bestow Ahmed with a pseudo aura of intellect.

People can seem so ordinary on the surface, but scratch the veneer and there’s always a secret beneath the gloss.

I fear I won’t come back from this—that this right here is my point of no return. My hill I will die on.

so enviably poised,

The tallest buildings in the downtown core also protrude like shining beacons above the clouds.

When people feel humiliated, shamed, they go into defensive mode.

I tried to help you. I threw you a lifeline. I can’t help it if you used the line to hang yourself.

the gleam of schadenfreude.

It’s begun to rain, and the wind has turned bitter.

devising a strategy

Why should we always “understand” our abuser, the villains, the mendacity of evil, the people who let us down? Does understanding help us heal?

But if I had to venture a guess, I’d say

I wasn’t totally up front the first time we spoke,

“Rittenberg is in grave legal jeopardy,”