I Left My Spacious Bedroom To Sleep In A Stranger’s Closet.

Where will I sleep? I muttered to myself as I walked back to my room. There were no other bedrooms available. How can she employ live-in workers and not provide us with a comfortable bedroom? This set-up was not right at all. Mrs. Nagy was all about money and no honey. She hired us from outside the country because no American would stoop or stood for this bullshit. She found it easy to relate that if we do not like the arrangement, we could leave. 

At this point, we find it hard to leave. We spend money to pay for our tickets and would like to get it back. It would also be a shame to go back home after a few weeks without something to show that we went to foreign, knowing that our families were dependent on us. Then and there, I realized why the others before me continued with such maltreatment. I realized why others before me suppressed their emotions and self-worth to earn money to take home. We need the money for that project we swore to complete. We need the money to pay for that medical procedure. We need the money to start that business. We need the money to pay for our child’s school tuition. We need the money to repay a loan. For whatever reason, we needed money.

I fell asleep weary and woke up determined to make my reason for coming to America a reality. I worked night and day until Carmen left, then I was all alone with Mrs. Nagy. The first night I worked overtime was okay, but by the second night, I was exhausted from lack of sleep. I decided to talk to Mrs. Nagy. Working for 24hrs was not going to work for me. It was harder than I had expected. I would not be able to help myself; how would I help someone else? 

Mrs. Nagy and I talked for a while. I voiced my displeasure in the 24hr work arrangement, and she said that she would assist me on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I told her that I would need compensation for my work, and she decided to add $200 to my pay. With that settled, things were going okay until Mr. Okley moved into the home. 

I was evicted from my room and ended up in the closet. Where else would I sleep? The couch had a hole in it, and it was very uncomfortable. The first night I slept in the closet, I felt claustrophobic, and I was afraid. I lay on the mattress and the clothes dangled from above like demons descending to take over my body. I pushed all the clothes to one corner and covered them a sheet. I left the closet door open that night so that the light from the kitchen could disperse the darkness that lurked beside me. I laid there on the scantily padded mattress, unable to close my eyes. Where was the fairy godmother when I needed her?   

In the morning, I was tired. I did not sleep at all, and my back hurts from the firm mattress. Mrs. Nagy came over to assist, and every moment I was alone, I tried to get a quick nap. She told me to take Oscar outside and handed me the poop bag and gloves. I took the items from her, placed the leash around the dog’s neck, and walked outside the house. Being alone outside was like a sanctuary. I could enjoy my solitude without thinking about roommates. Oscar pooped, smelled it, and walked away. I walked away too. I took my time enjoying the outdoor sounds and sights.

Back inside the house, Mrs. Nagy asked, “Why didn’t you take up the dog’s poop?”

“I told you that was not comfortable taking up dog poop,” I reminded her.

“You cannot leave the poop like that,” she said. “Please go and pick it up.”

“That will never happen,” I insisted. 

“Since you got here, you have been very hard-headed and resistant to the rules. I will not tolerate this behavior from you anymore,” Nagy argued. “I do not think that this is the place for you. I need someone who will comply with the rules of this home. You will have to leave.”

I had done it. I spoke up for the one thing I told Nagy I would not do, and she gave me the pink-slip. I let her hear the full length of my tongue’s aggression without being disrespectful to her. “Black lives matter.” I had made it to a month so…not critical with the pay less the plane ticket from Florida to here. “No problem, I will leave,” I told her. I called my aunt to book the ticket for me. Instead, my aunt told me to call the agency. I did, and they placed me in another home around forty minutes away. 

Dictating to you from Water Lilly Nursing Home, in the comfort of my bedroom suite, I am happy here. I work six days per week for seventeen hundred dollars a month. There are four roommates and no dog ~wheew. 

Thank you for reading my story.

Ok, I said it.