My Daughter Treats Me as a Maid, Roommates Dock My Wages

I cooked for my daughter and her three roommates for a year.

On her birthday, I hurried over to their shared apartment with a cake in my hands.

One of the roommates scanned my daughter's payment code.

Aunt Joy Lambert, you missed a week last time, so this month it's only four hundred.

Bess tapped to accept it.

"Fine. Have her make it up next time."

I asked her what money that was.

Her face changed, and she pulled me into the kitchen.

"Mom, keep your voice down."

"They've always thought you were a maid I hired."

Before I could take it in, another voice carried in from the living room.

"She pays eighteen hundred a month. Miss a meal, and of course there's a deduction."

I thought she'd kept it from me because she wanted to save the money.

"Where's the money?"

She looked away.

"Spent already."

"What about the grocery money?"

"You're my mom. You cook a few meals, and now we're counting money?"

And it hit me then.

For a whole year, I hadn't just been the mother she refused to admit to.

I'd been a fool who paid out of her own pocket to play maid for the whole apartment.

...

A year ago, Bess moved into a shared place off campus.

They all had internships, and living on campus was inconvenient.

On moving day, I came in from the small town with pot roast, fried ribs, and the stuffed fritters she'd loved since she was little.

The place wasn't big. One room each.

There was a new pot in the kitchen, the salt still sealed.

Bess pulled me out onto the balcony.

"Mom, from now on could you come once a week?"

"Cook for us, and keep the fridge stocked."

I paused.

"Cook for all four of you?"

She nodded.

"My three roommates all come from well-off families."

"Jemima Whitney's dad is an executive at his company, Julia James's aunt knows people at big firms, and Delia Sawyer's family has connections too."

"I'll be job-hunting soon. It won't hurt to be on good terms with them."

I asked why they didn't just eat out.

She frowned.

"Delivery's not clean, and cooking for yourself is a waste of time."

"You run a diner, you cook well. What's the difference between four people and one?"

I didn't say anything else.

After Bess's father died, I raised her on that little diner.

Up before dawn every day to buy stock, closing at ten at night.

I never went to college, and I don't know anyone with pull.

I couldn't help her find a job.

If a few meals could get her roommates to help her, I was willing.

I carried the food I'd brought into the kitchen.

Bess stopped me again.

"One more thing. Don't tell them you're my mom."

Something in me went cold, and I looked at her.

"Then who am I?"

"You're Aunt Joy. You came to help out."

"I already told them our family owns several restaurants."

"If you say it's just one little diner and I do all the cooking myself every day, what will they think?"

I was still holding the stuffed fritters she loved.

The oil paper had gone soft from the heat and stuck to the back of my hand.

"Is it that shameful that your mother runs a small diner?"

"I didn't say it was shameful."

She lowered her voice.

"Just help me out this once."

Someone called for her from the living room.

Bess went straight out.

"Let me introduce you. This is Aunt Joy."

"My family worries I'm not eating well, so they have her come cook every week."

Jemima looked me up and down.

"Bess, your family actually sends someone over just to look after you?"

Bess smiled.

"She's worked for my family for years. She's a decent cook."

I stood in the kitchen doorway and said nothing for a long while.

When she was small, she used to tell everyone her mom made the best food in the world.

Now I was the woman who'd worked for her family for years.

That day I made six dishes.

Jemima wouldn't eat scallions, Julia thought the ribs were too sweet, Delia said the fritters were too greasy.

Bess sat in the middle, constantly serving food onto their plates.

"If you don't like something, tell Aunt Joy. She'll fix it next time."

Halfway through the meal, Jemima remembered me.

"Aunt Joy, aren't you eating?"

I was about to speak when Bess cut in.

"She ate at home."

There was no bowl at the table for me.

No extra chair, either.

I scooped half a bowl of leftover rice in the kitchen and ate a few bites of the dishes they hadn't touched.

As I left, Julia handed me two bags of trash.

"Aunt Joy, take these out while you're at it."

Bess was standing right there.

She didn't take them.

I carried the trash down the stairs.

On the bus back to town, she sent me a long list.

[Jemima's on a diet meal. Light on oil and salt.]

[Julia doesn't eat cilantro.]

[Delia takes lunch in the mornings. Pack her food separately.]

The last line said:

[Come earlier next week and handle the cleaning while you're at it.]

I wanted to tell her Sundays were the busiest days at the diner.

I typed half of it, then deleted it.

Before her father passed, he told me to take care of her.

I was always afraid she'd have a hard time out in the world.

After that, I closed the shop for half a day every week, bought the groceries for four people ahead of time, and caught the earliest bus over.

At first it was just cooking.

Later it grew to mopping, laundry, scrubbing the bathroom.

Every time, Bess would say:

"It's no trouble. Don't make them think I'm stingy."

"Mom, don't embarrass me."

A month later, while I was wiping down the fridge, I saw a note stuck to it.

[Aunt Joy arrives every Sunday.]

[Responsible for cooking, cleaning, scrubbing the bathroom.]

[Give one day's notice to take time off. Two hundred deducted for each missed visit.]

At the very bottom, in small print:

[All fees to be sent to Bess Fox.]

Bess rushed up from behind me and tore it down.

I looked at her.

"What fees are these?"

She crumpled the paper into a ball.

"Utilities for the apartment. Nothing to do with you."

I picked up the paper Bess had crumpled.

Why does it say two hundred dollars off if the utilities come up short even once?

She snatched it back and threw it in the trash.

I was just filling out a chart, it doesn't mean anything.

Four of us live together, everything has to be written down, so nobody argues about it later.

I asked why the money had to be sent to her.

My daughter's face darkened.

Mom, what are you saying? You think I'm cheating you out of money?

I'm your own daughter. You don't even trust me?

That one line, your own daughter, choked off everything I'd meant to say next.

And I ended up thinking I was the one reading too much into it.

Every bit of her tuition, all her living expenses growing up, had passed through my hands.

When she needed money she just asked. There was no reason to go around in some big circle.

After that, the menus Bess sent me only got longer.

Delia wanted diet meals.

Julia got hungry at night, so I had to have late-night snacks ready.

Jemima had a boyfriend now, so every time I had to make an extra portion.

What they ate, what time they ate, all of it came to me from Bess.

One grocery run cost me three or four hundred dollars, at least.

Every time I asked about the grocery money, she'd say:

We'll settle up at the end of the month.

Later that turned into:

Nagging over a few hundred dollars makes it look like our family is broke. Don't embarrass me.

I stopped asking.

Bess's father died young.

I was afraid people would look down on her.

If she wanted to save face in front of her roommates, and I could carry a little of it for her, then I'd carry a little more.

One day, Bess called me out of nowhere.

Mom, come over tomorrow.

Grayson Head's coming to eat for the first time. Make a few extra dishes.

Grayson was her boyfriend.

I told her the diner had a birthday party booked, a whole table, I couldn't get away.

She got worked up right away.

This is the first time I'm formally having him over, and you can't tell what matters more?

His family's well off. Both his parents have solid, respectable jobs.

If we end up getting married someday, don't you want to make a good first impression?

The moment I heard the word married, I gritted my teeth and said yes anyway.

That birthday party was booked by a regular.

I called to say I suddenly couldn't take it, and the man on the other end was quiet for a long while.

Joy, I set this up with you a week ago.

If you can't do it now, I'll just have to go somewhere else.

Before he hung up, he added:

And I won't be ordering from your place anymore.

I held the phone, sick to my stomach.

But it was the first time my daughter was bringing a boyfriend home. I couldn't let her lose face.

The next day I bought sea bass, pork ribs, and two pounds of jumbo shrimp.

Bess met me at the door, and the second she saw the apron I'd brought, she frowned.

It had the diner's name printed on it.

Why did you wear that here?

You can't cook without an apron, or your clothes get dirty.

She yanked the apron off me and stuffed it into a cabinet.

Grayson doesn't know either, so don't slip up in front of him later.

I asked her what she'd told Grayson.

She kept her head down, smoothing her clothes.

I said our family owns a few restaurants.

That my dad's away doing business most of the year, and my mom handles the books and doesn't really cook.

For a long moment I couldn't say anything.

Her father had been dead more than ten years.

His grave was up in the hills west of town.

Every year we went to visit him together, just the two of us.

And now, to make her boyfriend think the family had money, she'd turned her dead father into a man off doing business somewhere.

And turned me, the woman who stood at the stove every single day, into an owner's wife who never went near a kitchen.

After Grayson came in, Bess introduced me the same as always:

This is Aunt Joy.

She used to work for our family. She cooks all right.

Grayson didn't so much as say hello. He just handed me his coat.

Hang this up for me, would you.

At the table he complained the sea bass had too many bones, then said the shrimp weren't fresh enough.

I explained I'd bought them that morning.

Bess cut me off at once.

Aunt Joy, stop butting in.

We're talking. Go clean up the kitchen.

I carried the empty plates back to the kitchen.

Grayson's voice drifted after me.

That maid of yours doesn't really know her place, does she.

Bess gave a little laugh.

She's from a small town. Never been anywhere.

Don't hold it against her.

Grayson asked again:

How much a month?

A maid like that should be pretty cheap, right?

Bess paused.

She's someone we know. It doesn't cost much.

The plate in my hands nearly slipped.

After the meal, Grayson pushed the half-plate of leftover shrimp toward me.

Pack it up. I'll take it to the office tomorrow.

Delia set a bag of dirty clothes by the kitchen door too.

Aunt Joy, there's room in the washer, just throw these in while you're at it.

I kept at it right through the evening.

When I left, Bess didn't ask how the birthday party had gone.

She only reminded me:

Don't buy sea bass next time. Grayson doesn't like anything with a lot of bones.

I picked up my phone to look for a bus back to town.

On the kitchen counter, Bess's phone lit up all at once.

Three payment alerts popped up one after another.

Delia: Maid fee, six hundred.

Julia: Maid fee, six hundred.

Jemima: Maid fee, six hundred.

I looked up.

Bess was standing in the doorway, her face gone white.

I pointed at the phone.

Why are they sending you maid fees?

She took the phone away.

They gave it on their own.

I told them you come cook every week, and they felt bad eating for free.

Where's the money?

She paused.

Spent it.

Spent it on who?

On me.

She said she'd gotten a new phone last month, and bought a bag that cost a few thousand.

So I pay for the groceries and close the diner to come cook.

You take my wages and buy things for yourself?

Bess frowned.

What do you mean, your wages?

I found the clients. I negotiated the price.

Without me, would you ever get college students as customers?

I froze.

I paid for the groceries.

I paid for the bus.

Every week I gave up half a day of business, and nobody made that up to me.

But in her mouth, she was the one carrying me along, earning money for me.

Then starting next month, the money gets sent to me.

She shook her head at once.

No.

They think you're a cleaning lady I hired. If the money suddenly goes to you, doesn't that blow the whole thing?

Then I won't come anymore.

Bess's face changed.

How can you just say you won't come? I already told them it was settled.

If you walk out now, what are they going to think of me?

I looked at her.

You took the money, so hire someone yourself.

How did you turn into this?

Her eyes went red in an instant.

Mom, I just want to look like I'm on their level.

Any bag they carry costs ten thousand. And me?

My whole life, whatever I wore, whatever I used, I always had to check the price first.

Something in me ached.

All these years, I never let her go without tuition or living money.

But it was true, I could never give her the kind of home her roommates had.

She grabbed my hand again.

Once I find a job and move out on my own, this whole thing is over.

Help me for just a few more months.

Don't let them look down on me before I graduate.

I asked her,:

Grayson doesn't know either? Don't you want to marry him?

She lowered her head.

He's always thought our family was well off.

If he found out my dad died years ago, that my mom runs a little diner and even comes to cook for my roommates, his parents would never approve of us.

If my dad were alive, he'd never let me be this humiliated.

She brought up her father again.

A man who'd been dead more than ten years, who couldn't say a word for himself.

In the end, I didn't expose her.

I only told her,:

I won't keep playing this part for you.

She nodded and nodded.

After that, she asked more of me than ever.

Whenever a roommate got a sudden craving, she'd text me in the middle of the night.

Jemima wanted all kinds of diet meals.

Julia wanted her sheets washed separately.

Delia complained about water spots in the bathroom and told me to bring a special name-brand cleaner.

When I refused, she'd say,:

They already paid. Don't give them anything to hold against you.

The words came out of her more and more easily.

As if that money had really gone to me.

The week before the birthday, I ran a fever and missed one visit.

Bess called a dozen times in one day.

I thought she was worried about me.

When I picked up, the first thing she asked was,:

How many more days of food is left in the fridge? What am I supposed to do if you don't come?

I said I was too dizzy to get out of bed.

She was quiet for a moment.

Then send me five hundred and we'll order delivery.

I sent the money.

She didn't say a single word about resting up.

The next week was her birthday.

I'd just gotten over being sick, but I closed the diner, made eight dishes, and ordered her favorite cake.

Seven or eight people were sitting in the shared apartment.

Besides the three roommates, there was Grayson and a few other classmates.

The moment Bess saw me, she pushed me into the kitchen.

There are a lot of people today. Don't just wander out.

I worked in the kitchen for three hours, dripping with sweat.

When it was time to light the candles on the cake, she handed me her phone.

Aunt Joy, take a group photo for us.

I held up the phone.

She stood next to Grayson, the others gathered around her.

Every one of them was smiling, happy.

After I took the picture, Jemima scanned Bess's payment code.

Aunt Joy didn't come last week, so this month we can only give four hundred.

Bess accepted the payment.

Sure, make it up next time.

I opened my mouth to speak, and she stepped in front of me at once, glaring at me.

Aunt Joy, there are still dishes to wash in the kitchen.

I looked at her.

She clamped down on my wrist and dragged me into the kitchen.

The moment the door shut, she dropped her voice.

Don't go asking things. Didn't I already tell you?

I looked at her, disappointed.:

How long do you plan to keep lying?

The money's already spent. What am I supposed to do?

Just keep doing it. Once I have a job, I'll pay it back little by little.

I took off my apron.

No need to pay anything back.

Starting today, I'm not coming.

She blocked the door.

With all these people out there, you're really going to make a scene today?

I'm not making a scene. You took the money, so you deal with it yourself.

You're a grown woman, not a child waiting for me to clean up after you.

I pulled the door open and went home.

Bess didn't come after me.

She had to go back and cut the cake with Grayson.

That night, I was added to a group.

Aunt Joy Fee Settlement Chat

Inside it, besides the three roommates, there were Bess and Grayson.

Bess sent the first message.

Aunt Joy thought the pay was too low, and today she suddenly quit.

The earlier fees, I gave her every month in cash.

Jemima replied right away,:

We already paid this month. She should at least refund the rest.

Julia posted a spreadsheet.

It listed deductions for the missed meal, for not cleaning properly, for leaving early.

Delia added,:

Settle it in person tomorrow, or this isn't over.

Before I could reply, a private message from Bess came first.

Mom, just come by tomorrow.

Admit the money was paid in cash, and I'll pay you back later.

A few seconds later, she sent another line.

If you say you're my mom, everyone will know I lied to them.

You can't ruin me over a little money.

Bess called me a dozen times.

I didn't pick up once.

Then she sent voice messages.

"Mom, they just want to settle the fees, that's all."

"Come sign tomorrow, and this whole thing is over."

"Nobody's going to check. Why are you making this so hard for me?"

Something in me went cold, one degree at a time.

She'd made money off my labor.

Now that it had all come apart, she wanted me to sign for the debt too.

I could cover for how poor we were, once.

I could not spend the rest of my life covering for her lies.

The next day I packed a whole year of bus tickets, grocery records, and bank statements into a bag and went to the shared apartment.

The living room was full of people.

The three roommates sat on one side.

Grayson sat right next to Bess.

A fee statement lay on the table.

Bess saw me and didn't call me Mom.

"Miss Lambert, you're here."

Jemima pushed the statement toward me.

"This month's money, we've already paid it."

"You skipped a day, and then you walked out yesterday without warning. Some of it has to be refunded."

Julia spoke up next.

"You ruined one of my shirts in the wash."

"And the bathroom wasn't cleaned properly every time either."

Delia pointed at the last line.

"There's also a year of grocery money."

"Bess said every month it wasn't enough and had us chip in extra."

"We suspect you padded the grocery money too."

I glanced at it.

They'd counted every missed meal, every spot they said wasn't clean, every shirt they claimed I'd ruined.

Altogether they wanted three thousand back.

"Who did you transfer the money to every month?"

Jemima pointed at Bess.

"To her. Then she gave it to you."

"How did she give it to me?"

"Cash."

The one who answered wasn't Jemima.

It was Bess.

She took another sheet of paper from her bag and set it in front of me.

My name was already written on it.

I, Joy Lambert, confirm receipt of 0-08,000 in housekeeping service fees paid on my behalf by Bess Fox.

Below it was a space for a signature and a fingerprint.

She'd even brought an ink pad.

Bess lowered her voice.

"Miss Lambert, just check it over, and if it's fine, sign."

I looked at her.

"You gave me eighteen thousand?"

She looked away.

"I gave it to you every month."

Grayson rapped the table, impatient.

"Ma'am, Bess is trying to save you some face. Don't play dumb."

"Her family took care of you all these years. You can't turn around and cheat a bunch of students just because you think the pay's too low."

I stared at him.

"How exactly did her family take care of me?"

Grayson said it like he'd heard the story a hundred times.

"Your husband died early. You had nowhere to go."

"Bess's mother felt sorry for you and let you work at the family's diner."

"All these years she fed you, gave you a place to stay, even gave you things on the holidays."

I held that piece of paper, my fingers tightening.

My husband did die early.

But I was never without somewhere to go.

I held on to a tiny shop, barely a few hundred square feet, and cooked one pan of food after another, and I raised Bess on it.

In my daughter's mouth I had become some pitiful woman her family had taken in.

She'd taken my life apart and rebuilt it into her own respectability.

Jemima's face was cold too.

"Bess always said her mother was soft-hearted."

"Anyone else would've fired you long ago."

"Eighteen hundred a month isn't little, and groceries were separate on top of that. You still weren't satisfied?"

I asked Bess,

"Did you say all of this?"

She bit her lip.

"Miss Lambert, right now we're talking about the fees."

"Sign first. Don't drag other things into it."

I set the paper back on the table.

"I never took any money. I won't sign for it."

Bess's eyes went red at once.

"I know you feel wronged."

"But everyone's here. Do you really have to humiliate me?"

She leaned in close and said it in a voice only the two of us could hear,

"Mom, just sign it. I'll pay you back later."

"If you won't own it today and this blows up, think how humiliating that is for me."

"That's your problem. You're an adult. You answer for yourself."

Her face changed, and her voice climbed.

"How can you be so selfish?"

"You'd offend every single person here over a little money?"

Grayson stood up.

"It's not about the money. It's about character."

"You take the money, you do the job right."

"Being poor isn't an excuse to take advantage."

The three roommates piled on.

"Our parents don't earn their money easily either."

"You can't treat us like easy marks just because we're young."

"If she won't sign today, get Bess's mother down here."

Bess's face changed and she jumped in.

"My mom's out of town. There's no need to bother her with something this small."

Jemima wouldn't have it.

"Isn't Miss Lambert someone your family's used for years?"

"If she won't own the debt, then your mother has to come explain it."

Bess panicked.

"I told you, she's busy!"

I opened the bag I'd brought.

I took out the bank statements.

"This whole year, Bess Fox has not transferred me a single cent."

Next came a thick stack of payment records.

"Every week, the meat, the vegetables, the fruit, I bought all of it."

"When she was sick, when she went out to eat, when she had a birthday, I paid extra for that too."

Bess rushed over to grab them.

I laid the last thing on the table, the household register.

I turned to her page.

The living room went dead silent.

I looked at the three roommates.

"Weren't you looking for Bess Fox's mother?"

I pointed at the line for the mother-daughter relationship in the register.

"No need to look."

"That's me."

Jemima's head snapped around toward Bess.

I went on,

"The eighteen thousand you paid wasn't her passing wages to a maid."

"It was money she earned for herself by handing over her own mother, free of charge, to cook and wash and clean for you."