When Trashy Met Classy
Day Eight
Lizzie woke up feeling almost light-headed. This was the day, she thought. This was the day she was going to get to win her bet. She hardly noticed that she didn’t need the alarm clock to get her up early.
She arrived in the kitchen and without even thinking about it, began to prepare breakfast. It wouldn’t be long now, she thought. It wouldn’t be long before she could proudly proclaim what she’d done.
The young black women seemed to be taking her time coming to breakfast but Lizzie wasn’t upset. She could wait. She’d learned how to do that. She could wait for as long as it took.
The young black woman finally came down to breakfast and Lizzie served her up her meal and then she poured her some coffee. “You know,” she said, no longer able to keep from gloating, “this is the eighth day after we made our bet.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So the bet was for a week. A week’s up. I won.”
The black woman put the coffee cup down. “I guess you did, Lizzie. I guess you did.”
No longer able to contain herself, Lizzie crowed, “I won. I won. I won.”
“Yep. You won. That means you get to be my maid for the next year, no questions asked.”
“But—”
“Are you going back on our bet?”
“What?”
“The deal was for free maid service for a year if you won. Well, you won and you’re the maid, so congratulations, you get to keep on being my maid for the next year.”
“But—”
The young black woman looked at her sternly and suddenly, Lizzie didn’t know what to say.
“Yes, ma’am,” she said finally. It really did feel so good to obey.