Liam stood stiffly at attention, eyes fixed on a faraway point, just as his Master had bid him. Not three days ago, Nate had just been his roommate. They saw little of one another, except in passing. Opposite schedules. That suited Liam just fine - he kept largely to himself, staying up late to drink and waking up late hungover, disheveled. Showered, then went to work, and came home late. On both ends, the click and flick of a lighter, stirring the charred fragments of pot in the bottom of his bowl.
One Friday, it happened that they shared the day off. Liam stumbled out of his bedroom in a familiar fog, eyes bleary and mouth cottony. He wore a pair of plaid boxers and a loose t-shirt emblazoned with “ROLLING STONED,” the familiar lips & tongue icon from the band applying itself to a rolled-up joint. It was a favorite. He blinked past the kitchen, adding his beer can and glass to the array of dirty ones on the counter.
“You look like you had fun last night,” Nate remarked from the table. He sat there dressed casually, showered, hair parted. He was reading something on his iPhone.
“Uh, yeah,” replied Liam sloppily, rubbing his eyes. “Some killer brews. What, you got the day off?”
“Yup,” Nate said. “Say, you wanna grab a brewski with me tonight?”
“Sure.” Liam was always up for a good time.
And it was pretty great, Liam had to admit, though he got pretty bombed pretty early, earlier than usual, but he figured it was because he didn’t eat anything that day, and also, he was super-high. It seemed Nate got a little loose, too, grinning easier and laughing with him about mundane things. Nate, it turned out, wasn’t a huge pothead, but definitely smoked a joint from time to time, you know, to unwind, and they had a great time sharing stoned moments.
After the bar, the boys stumbled back to their house, a little slurry, but in genial spirits. It was Nate who first mentioned the attic, and Liam agreed readily. He’d never been up, he explained, and Nate was quick to tell him about all the amazing old photographs and such were up there from the family that had once lived in the house. “It’s like, a treasure trove,” he explained, shoving at the door to the attic. It finally came free, and they ascended quickly, laughing to one another.
The attic had a musty, damp smell to it, which did not deter them from going through the boxes, most labeled “Photo’s” or “Kitchen” or
“Hey, what’s this!” Nate pushed aside a bunch of accumulated junk and withdrew a small bell, covered in tarnish and cobwebs. He gave it an experimental shiver, and the sound came out of it, an insistent and quick ringing, seeming almost blade-like as it cut through the air. Liam’s eyes widened, and there was a falling sensation in his gut. He stood up, staring at Nate. “Wow,” Nate said. “That’s a hell of a ring. Bet you could hear that from one end of the house to the other.” He shook it again, and the sound this time was louder, somehow more insistent, and it seemed to hang in the air longer. Again, Liam felt nearly attacked by the sound, and felt the same curious draining sensation behind his eyes.
“It’s a… looks like a… servant’s bell,” Liam managed, clearing his throat. “I think.”
“What, like, someone would ring it - ” Here, Nate grinned and sounded the bell again - “To summon the servant?”
Liam nodded his head, quickly. His hands stole behind him and clasped at the small of his back. “I think so.”
“Ah, too bad we don’t have one of those, right? Who could do the dishes, and haha, my laundry - man, I need to do laundry…”
“… clean the grout in the shower,” Liam added, helpfully.
“Yeah! And, and, bring our food to us. Man, wouldn’t that rule. Having, like, a butler.”
“Manservant,” Liam tacked on, a bit dreamily. The sound of the bell still seemed to echo in the attic.
“Haha, yeah, totally.” Nate set the bell down and Liam became unbound. He swayed, slightly, and blinked a few times.
“I think I better call it a night,” he mumbled. “Pretty stoned.”
Nate nodded. “Sounds good, man. Hey, good times tonight. We oughta do this again. I might have some time off, soon, actually, since I got my aunt’s inheritance. Figure I could use a vacation.”
“Yeah, you do work pretty hard,” Liam agreed.
Nate nodded, semi-seriously. “I’m a pretty important guy, you know.”
“Agreed,” Liam said, and felt the truth of that sink onto his shoulders like a yoke.
“Dude,” Nate said, cracking a grin. “I’m just kidding.”
“Right, yeah… I mean, I knew that. I was, too.” Liam tried to kick sand over the lie, but it didn’t cover it completely.
The next morning, Liam woke up way earlier than he usually did, to the sounds of Nate in the kitchen, grinding his coffee beans for his morning cup. Heard the clink of glasses and plates as he made his breakfast. Liam lay there in the dark on his bed, heart suddenly pounding as if in total terror. He stayed like that, stiff and straight as a board, breathing shallowly when he heard Nate’s heavy shoes on the floorboards outside his room. He felt like a kid who was somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be, trying to make himself invisible. A sneeze, of course, fighting in his nose for a minute before becoming inevitable - and the footsteps halted by his door.
He inhaled, shakily, and held his breath. The footsteps continued by, not engaging his door at all. Eventually, they faded down the hallway, and Liam heard the sound of the main door opening and closing.
He flung the covers off of his body and got out of his bed, standing for a moment in the middle of his room, stock-still, listening for any sound. A minute passed, and Liam opened his door. Nothing out there, and no one. He breathed a sigh of relief. The house was empty, except for him. He walked out into the kitchen and opened the cabinet, intending to find a glass for water. The cabinet, however, was empty. All of the dishes were dirty. Liam frowned, and selected one of the glasses from the countertop. Found the sponge, the dish soap. Turned the hot water on with a swirl of the faucet. As he began lathering the inside of the pint glass with the sponge, he found that his prior anxiety faded, that his shoulders relaxed. He was even humming slightly. He set aside the glass on the drying rack and picked up another. That was followed by a plate. He kept humming.
Before he realized what he was doing, all the dishes had been done, and he was stepping back from the sink, cleaning the countertop. It gleamed and sparkled as it hadn’t in months. He found a broom and mop leaning in a corner, its dustpan attached. After he’d swept the debris of the counter onto the floor, it just seemed logical to sweep the floor. And then, of course, it seemed also to follow that the floor needed to be mopped. He pushed the mop around in circles, taking great relish in squeezing it out into a pail. He thought to himself: this really needed to get done, and Nate’s so busy, he can’t be bothered with it, so it makes sense that I do it. It needed to be done, anyway.
As he put away the supplies, he noticed a plastic bottle marked “bleach” and next to it, a small plastic bag, ripped open, containing yellow latex gloves. It floated into his mind, suddenly, and then the image snapped into sharp focus: the brown and gray-green mildew and scum between the tiles in the shower. He stepped forward instantly, hands pulling on the gloves, and he was heading to the bathroom with the bleach in hand.
At first, the project seemed too easy, the mildew sponged right off, but the grout between the tiles just seemed still dirty. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t get at the spaces. He needed something smaller, like … a toothbrush! He got to his feet, and went to the sink. There were only the two, his, and Nate’s, leaning in the small cup. He stood there, hesitating, and then seized his toothbrush. He reasoned he could just go buy another one later. This, applied to the grout with bleach, did the trick, and Liam inwardly cheered as the true white of the grout shone through. It took him nearly an hour, but when he was done, the bristles on his toothbrush were brown and bent backwards but the shower gleamed as if it had just been installed.
Hours later, the thud of the door, and then Nate’s heavy steps down the hall. Liam stood in the living room, dusting at the mantelpiece with a rag that looked like it had seen some serious use. Nate laughed, but didn’t say anything, proceeding to his room. Laundry spilled out of his closet. His bedsheets untucked and hung out of the mattress. His desk was cluttered with papers … and the servant bell from the attic. “Weird,” Nate said aloud. He didn’t remember bringing that downstairs, but shrugged and attributed it to being drunk.
He heard Liam in his room, and grinned. They had had a great time, drinking together. He was a lot more fun than Nate thought. “Yo, dude!” Nate called out. “What’s up?” His eyes fell on the bell, and he gave it a little shake, rhythmically, to accent his playful greeting.
Before he knew it, Liam stood in his doorway. He was wearing a black bow tie with a smart white button down, wrinkled and the bow tie an obvious clip-on. On top, a black blazer. He looked mussed, like he’d just woken up, but there was a sharp clarity in his eyes and a slight difference in his posture. Nate was a little taken aback. “Nice outfit,” he laughed. “What’s with the get-up?”
Liam looked embarrassed. “I couldn’t find an iron,” he seemed apologetic, “and I’ve got to do the laundry.” His eyes flicked to Nate’s closet. “Would you like me to take care of yours, while I’m at it?”
“Huh?” Nate was confused. His initial reaction was No, that’s OK, I can take care of it myself, but he thought about it one step further. Actually, he did have a lot of work to do for school, and it sure would be nice to have it done for him. “Sure,” he tried, laughing a little. “What do I owe you?”
Liam blinked, as if startled, then laughed, too. “Nothing. I’m happy to help.”
“Okay,” Nate gave in. “Well, there it is. Go to it!” The joke was growing bigger. “No, I’m just kidding. Let me get it all in the basket, at least,” and he moved toward it.
“I got it,” Liam said, and was already scooping up the clothes into the basket, squatting to the floor to do so. “I’m sure you have a lot of work to do…”
“Actually, yeah,” Nate admitted. “Hey, thanks.”
“Of course,” Liam said, and Nate left the room to get a glass of water. He entered the kitchen and stopped, blinking, at the level of clean. “Wow,” he said, calling back to his roommate. “You’re in, like, full-on domestic mode, huh?”
He returned to the room, and felt momentarily awkward, sitting down at his desk and opening his laptop. He browsed the Internet for a moment, trying to ignore the presence of his roommate doing his laundry behind him. He chuckled to himself, and eventually, Liam left with his full basket.
The night progressed, and Nate was taken over by his work. In the background, he heard Liam moving around. At one point, he had even gone into the bathroom to piss, and was struck by the clean shower and sink. Even the mirror was polished! “Hey, I could get used to this,” he called out to Liam, jokingly. “I really could,” he murmured to himself. His eyes stole to the bell, still sitting on his desk. He was thirsty. And hungry, too. Hm.
Liam’s heart jumped and he walked quickly to the bell. “You rang?” he offered, smiling a little as if pretending the joke was still going.
Nate burst into laughter. “Dude, OK, this has gone far enough. You don’t need to answer the bell. I don’t even know what it’s doing down here.”
“Actually,” Liam replied, “I don’t mind. I’m not doing anything important. Did you need something?”
“No, no, I can get it myself,” Nate chuckled. “Man, you really know how to commit to a joke, huh?”
Liam cocked his head sideways, as if not comprehending. “I’m happy to help, really,” he insisted. “If there’s anything…”
Nate gave up. “I was just feeling hungry. I was thinking of making eggs. Like, breakfast for dinner.”
“I can do that. Be happy to. Do you want some?”
Nate paused. This seemed weird, but on the other hand, it was kinda nice. He had to admit that. He hesitated. “Uh, sure. If you’re making some for yourself.”
“I’m not hungry, but thank you. How do you like your eggs?”
Nate shook his head. “Scrambled.”
Liam nodded, and left the doorway. Had he… bowed, at the waist, just then? It was time to see how far he would take this joke.
Nate picked up the bell and rang it again, just a little, and Liam returned. “Was there something else?”
The plunge. “That’s ‘Was there something else, Sir,’” Nate said, preparing to laugh it off as the joke came to its obvious conclusion.
“Of course. Was there something else, Sir?”
Nate’s jaw dropped. He was committed to this. He managed to shake his head, side to side, and Liam left again. Soon, the smell of cooking rose from the kitchen. Nate wandered out into the dining room, and sat down, marvelling at the situation. Weren’t they just saying that it’d be great to have a servant? He felt like this was some Candid Camera Punk’d trick, but at the same time, it felt curiously right. Like all the pieces fit. He didn’t really like to do chores, never had. Grew up in a fairly wealthy family, had hired help, but never this personal. He just was messy by default.
Liam entered the room snappily, and set Nate’s food down in front of him, then stood back, at attention, beside the table. “And a beer,” Nate said, “If you’d be so good, Jeeves.”
Liam executed his little bow again, and left, coming back with the tallboy on a small, burnished silver platter. “Where did you find that?” Nate pointed, laughing, even as he began to eat.
“In one of the cabinets, Sir,” Liam said. “Was there anything else, Sir?”
“No, I’ll ring if I need you, Jeeves. Very good, at ease.”
Liam nodded, and stepped back. The image, in every way, of a servant or a butler. “So, is this some elaborate joke?” Nate finally asked.
“The whole … servant thing. Am I being Punk’d?”
“Then… what’s happening here?”
Liam only said, “I am happy to help, Sir.”
Nate shook his head, and laughed again. “All right, if you insist.” He had to admit, it did feel good. And right. “Hey, after you’re done with my laundry, clean up my room and make my bed, all right?”
And as Liam bowed again, at the waist, Nate let the joke go and accepted the new paradigm, just like that. His roommate was his manservant. Could be summoned by a bell. Did all the chores for him. Man, just think of the time he’d free up like this! He could get all his important work done, and he wouldn’t be bothered with any of the little stuff… He felt like the luckiest guy on Earth.
“Oh,” he said finally, off-handedly. “I’ll be having you install a plaque on your door that says ‘Servant’s Quarters’ tomorrow, and you will be around to help out for the poker game tomorrow, when Steve and Kurt and the guys come over, right?”
“Excellent,” Nate said. “Excellent indeed.”
