This is me. Tamalie. Just Tamalie, yes, I don't have a second name. My grandfather couldn't stand the idea of giving me his Last name.
This is not your typical Cinderella story.
As unusual as I am myself. It's not very usual to be born to a Black servant boy and an American mayor's daughter and still end up as a pathetic servant girl to your own grandfather.
Makes for a superbly interesting story, doesn't it? Well, I guess I can make it short.
My blonde haired beauty of a mother, Annabelle Marshall, daughter of the most influential mayor in all the United States - who also happens to be one of the wealthiest men on the American continent- , fell in love with an ordinary yet unusually beautiful young Black boy, Joseph -no last name either, because his foster parents felt too guilty to give him their last name- who worked at her father's mansion as a servant boy.
I don't really know the details of the entire story but I know I got my blue eyes from my dad, who happened to be as black as ebony yet he had blue eyes, which is a coincidence because even my mother has blue eyes. I've seen her in pictures atleast.
That's why I said I'm unusual anyway. Brown skin and blue eyes are not your everyday look, everybody knows.
Yeah well, my mother abandoned me and left as soon as I was born, so I grew up with my grandfather as a sickly child most of my life, although it could have had something to do with the fact that even my mother was a sickly child herself as she grew up.
My dad succumbed to pneumonia at around the same time my mother left, I think. The details are a bit hazy for me considering I got them from too much prying for angry answers from my grandfather. Long story, that one.
My grandfather is the most egotistical man I've ever laid my eyes on. I thought he was perfect because he sounded so smart while convincing me that scrubbing floors was preparing me for the harsh world out there, until I saw other humane men that existed in the world.
His money and his power and influence are his most treasured possessions, not forgetting his fifteen-million dollar private jet which is like his first born son. That's why issues with his children and family don't really bother him. He has enough dollars to make it right after all.
I guess I'm the only unprivileged child who never had a taste of that money, but I surely felt it all, in all the years I spent scrubbing the mansion's floors and dusting every impeccably designed corner of the multimillion dollar residence in one of the most luxurious LA neighborhoods.
I guess the only thing he cares about more than his money is punishing me for my father's mistakes.
What mistakes, you wonder?
Well, my Dad fell in love. That was his worst crime to-date. He fell in love with the wrong girl. The mayor's infamously gorgeous daughter with unspeakably seductive features- atleast that's what I've heard and partly seen in some of her pictures.
The thing is she fell in love with him too, so both of them were in the wrong I guess, and I'm the offspring of that crime, so I'm my grandfather's greatest nemesis. Since my dad died, I'm all that's left for my grandfather to release his silent vengeance for the scandal that made me come to life.
(The eighteen-year old that slept with a beautiful black servant boy and conceived a beautiful black girl child, which is me! )
Enough of the history.
I'm currently doing my daily chores, which comprise scrubbing all floors of the three storey mansion that sits on three thousand square feet of literally royal land, and dusting every corner.
I'm used to the whole cycle by now. My body is more resilient now and I'm more agile and stronger from doing it everyday. I feel like it's killing my grandfather that I haven't declared defeat yet.
I've lived all my life simply going with the drill and dreaming that one day I'll finally escape this hell of a life and my mom will come and take me when she misses me. To be honest, I haven't exactly sensed even a sign of that ever happening, but all I can do is hope, because if I don't, this pain and suppressed emotions will kill me slowly, and I'm already starting to feel it start.
I have to force a smile all the time and pretend everything is okay, just so I can live on to see the day I overcome all this, and maybe today is the day.
***
"Tamalie!" I hear the voice of the butler calling me as I dust the ever spotless books in the mayor's office for the possibly millionth time all over again as per the usual routine. He and my grandpa are the only ones who can say my full name.
I immediately drop the duster and straighten my ragged apron and age-old dress to look towards the door to the office where the unusually good-looking but stiff framed butler stands in the doorway. The butler stands stiff as usual in his ever impeccably pressed black suit with his chin pointed in the air, which usually makes my days.
Needless to say, I'm trying so hard to suppress my laughter because he doesn't find it funny at all.
"Come with me," he commands as he sharply turns on his heel like a typical uptight butler after sweeping his disapproving gaze up and down my pathetic looking body and leads the way to the receiving room where my Grandfather and his guest lay in wait, apparently for me.
I'm not exactly conscious of my appearance because it would be absolutely abnormal if I ever looked any better than I look right now.
I'm not embarrassed anymore by anything because I've been an embarrassment all my life anyway.
This is actually the first time I've been summoned by my grandfather in a long time, and when he has a guest no less. I wonder what exactly he wants to say that simply can not wait. He never lets me show my face to guests, because the embarrassment would be too much for him to take.
I like to think of myself as a lost princess, because I fantasize alot about alot. it's easier to get through life that way.
When we get to the lavishly furnished receiving room with cream leather sofas and high end classy and elegant timeless designs, the butler gives a slight bow and moves to the side, leaving me standing in the middle of two sofas.
I wonder if I'm supposed to sit or stand, because I've never been in the presence of my grandfather's guests, and I'm not sure whether I'm more shocked or more panicked.
When I realize that the two middle aged gentlemen are disapprovingly pinning me in place with their scrutinizing gazes, I decide that it would be better if I sat down, so I take a sit on the nearest sofa next to me, but before I can even put my painfully hardened butt from too much bending, onto the soft plush leather, I'm stopped by my grandfather's sarcastic comment.
"Nobody asked you to sit, Tamalie," he says, and I have to force my butt to stand back up.
"My apologies, Sir," I immediately say as I hastily straighten up back into my standing position.
Although I felt a little dizzy a while ago from the fatigue and the hunger, I feel sobered up right now because this tension can't let me remain normal at all. The anxiety is killing me because no one is talking. Why in the world am I here? Anyone else can be summoned, just not me.
I feel like the suspense might make me faint right here and now. I start tapping my toes onto the floor.
"So, what do you think?" my Grandfather asks, and I'm about to answer his question when I realize he's asking the gentleman in the other seat sipping on a coffee.
I look towards him and find his eyes scrutinizing me from head to toe, and I wonder what the heck is going on here. I can't say a thing ofcourse, because that's the rule. Say nothing unless directly asked, so I meekly stay quiet and look back down because it's rude to look directly into people's eyes.
"Does she eat?" the gentleman asks condescendingly, still looking at me.
"I believe she does," my grandfather answers like he couldn't care less, "My kitchen has enough to feed this neighborhood."
"She's too thin. And when was the last time she looked after that skin?" the gentleman asks with a disapproving frown on his face.
"That can be taken care of with some proper feeding and pampering," grandfather says, trying to convince the other gentleman, "She's a born beauty after all"
"True, that," the gentleman resignedly responds, "but I don't exactly have the time."
"Well, neither do I," my grandfather says, " So why don't we close this deal and she can go with you. You can't fail to find someone to revive this beauty, can you? She'd be good to go in a couple of weeks or even less, and you can use that time to teach her what she needs to learn. How does that sound?"
The other gentleman takes a moment to mull over my grandfather's suggestion, and I use the time to absorb the shock. I'm leaving?! What the heck would I be learning from this gentleman?! And what exactly was I going to be doing in whatever place I would be going to?
Honestly, I can't deny the excitement I'm struggling to hide, because I've never left the premises for anything or to go anywhere in any case. Like I said, a hidden princess.
Maybe this could be that small window for me to escape this hell! it's finally here, and all I have to do is go along with it. Not that I'd have a choice anyway, but for once I'm glad I have no choice.
I'm barely stopping myself from jumping out of joy.
"Sounds good. Do I leave with her right now?" the gentleman asks, finally tearing his gaze away from me.
I can't fail to notice my grandfather's shear ecstasy although he can't show it. I can tell because he's never looked happy in my face.
"Whatever works for you," he says, looking as serious as ever, but I can't miss the excited undertone in his voice.
"Alright. Does she have any clothes?" the gentleman asks in disdain, looking me up and down again.
"Get her some clothes," grandfather instructs the butler, who immediately signals for me to follow him.
I give a quick slight bow before turning around and following the butler with lighter steps than I ever have before, leaving the two gentlemen to their private dialogue.
I'm dying to scream my lungs out in ecstasy, and I can't stop my first smile in like forever, from getting wider and bigger and I feel lighter and relieved and simply levitating.
Yay to a whole new life!
***
As I follow behind the butler through the hallways, he suddenly stops in his steps and turns around slowly until his gaze meets mine, and for the first time ever, I think I can see empathy or pity in his eyes, which throws me off my feet for a moment.
"Tamalie," he starts, and I stop myself from responding because I can tell he's not instructing or commanding anything this time, "I can't tell you anything, but you should know that with political calculating men like your grandfather, nothing ever just happens. What you see is never what you get."
His words catch me off guard, and don't know why I feel scared for like a microsecond, but I decide to not let it get to me, because I simply can't afford to jinx this joy.
"Okay," is all I say.
He looks like he wants to say something else, but he stops himself. I'm actually surprised he even talked to me outside the usual instructions.
I roll my eyes at his unnecessary seriousness and follow behind him while jumping on my feet.
I can't imagine any feeling being better than the way I feel right now.