Kim killed the engine of her beat up car, the old thing wheezing in protest before sputtering into silence. Exhaling, she gripped the steering wheel for a second longer than necessary, then glanced down at her phone. A missed call from her parole officer. She’d get back to them. She just had to finish this interview first. That was the whole point of her parole officer calling anyways: Have you gotten a job yet?
Kim shoved the phone into the back pocket of her jeans, stepped out onto the driveway and adjusted her shirt, smoothing down the creases like it might make a difference. A deep breath, a straightened spine, then a few brisk steps up to the front door. She knocked. A moment later, it swung open. It was the lady of the house answering, the one who was seeking a housemaid.
Employer, the mom: So, Kim, why don’t we start with you telling me a little about yourself?
Kim shifted in the chair, crossing her legs, then uncrossing them. The house was warm, prestigious, yet homey. It was the kind of place she could almost imagine herself in, if life had gone differently.
Kim: Sure. I grew up in Brisbane, but I always wanted to go to college in the U.S., so I got into Mayfield University. It was a great opportunity, a real change of scenery.
She stopped there, letting the words hang. She didn’t mention that she dropped out after a year. The mom didn’t ask either, but Kim could see the wheels turning behind her polite expression.
Employer: Oh, how exciting!
The woman leaned forward slightly, clasping her hands. She was eager, talkative, the kind of person who filled silences before they could become awkward.
Employer: Well, the job is pretty straightforward. Just some light cleaning, cooking now and then, picking up my daughter from school. She’s six, full of energy, so someone who’s good with kids is a must. Do you have experience with that?
Kim nodded quickly, too quickly.
Kim: Yeah, I do. I’ve always liked kids. And, you know, domestic work, it’s… fulfilling.
That wasn’t a real reason, but it was the best answer she had. The truth was, this type of work was one of the only jobs she had a shot at getting.
Employer: Sounds promising! But I do see there’s a bit of a gap in your resume. What have you been up to in the past, uh… Ten years?
Silence. Kim’s fingers tightened slightly in her lap. She had been hoping this part wouldn’t come up so soon. Her mind scrambled for something that sounded believable.
Kim: I uh, I was… busy with personal matters.
A poor lie. Too vague. The employer’s enthusiasm faltered just a little, her head tilting, eyes scanning Kim’s face with newfound concern. There was a pause before the mom continued. This time, her tone was more serious, professional.
Employer: You know, a clean record is required for the job. We’ll do a background check, of course.
Kim’s breath caught. There it was. The moment of truth.
Kim: You’ll find that I was in prison… For, uh, for manslaughter.
A beat. The mom' face froze mid expression, her lips slightly parted, as if she might speak but forgot how. The room suddenly felt suffocating.
Employer: …Manslaughter?
Kim swallowed hard, her throat completely dry.
Kim: Voluntary manslaughter.
There. It was out. No taking it back. Kim waited, watching the emotions flicker across the mom's face; shock, confusion, fear.
The silence stretching, the weight of it pressing down. The employer didn’t move, didn’t say anything. Just stared.
Kim exhaled sharply and pushed herself up from the chair, awkward, unwelcome.
Kim: I... I’ll let myself out.
Kim shoved the phone into the back pocket of her jeans, stepped out onto the driveway and adjusted her shirt, smoothing down the creases like it might make a difference. A deep breath, a straightened spine, then a few brisk steps up to the front door. She knocked. A moment later, it swung open. It was the lady of the house answering, the one who was seeking a housemaid.
Employer, the mom: So, Kim, why don’t we start with you telling me a little about yourself?
Kim shifted in the chair, crossing her legs, then uncrossing them. The house was warm, prestigious, yet homey. It was the kind of place she could almost imagine herself in, if life had gone differently.
Kim: Sure. I grew up in Brisbane, but I always wanted to go to college in the U.S., so I got into Mayfield University. It was a great opportunity, a real change of scenery.
She stopped there, letting the words hang. She didn’t mention that she dropped out after a year. The mom didn’t ask either, but Kim could see the wheels turning behind her polite expression.
Employer: Oh, how exciting!
The woman leaned forward slightly, clasping her hands. She was eager, talkative, the kind of person who filled silences before they could become awkward.
Employer: Well, the job is pretty straightforward. Just some light cleaning, cooking now and then, picking up my daughter from school. She’s six, full of energy, so someone who’s good with kids is a must. Do you have experience with that?
Kim nodded quickly, too quickly.
Kim: Yeah, I do. I’ve always liked kids. And, you know, domestic work, it’s… fulfilling.
That wasn’t a real reason, but it was the best answer she had. The truth was, this type of work was one of the only jobs she had a shot at getting.
Employer: Sounds promising! But I do see there’s a bit of a gap in your resume. What have you been up to in the past, uh… Ten years?
Silence. Kim’s fingers tightened slightly in her lap. She had been hoping this part wouldn’t come up so soon. Her mind scrambled for something that sounded believable.
Kim: I uh, I was… busy with personal matters.
A poor lie. Too vague. The employer’s enthusiasm faltered just a little, her head tilting, eyes scanning Kim’s face with newfound concern. There was a pause before the mom continued. This time, her tone was more serious, professional.
Employer: You know, a clean record is required for the job. We’ll do a background check, of course.
Kim’s breath caught. There it was. The moment of truth.
Kim: You’ll find that I was in prison… For, uh, for manslaughter.
A beat. The mom' face froze mid expression, her lips slightly parted, as if she might speak but forgot how. The room suddenly felt suffocating.
Employer: …Manslaughter?
Kim swallowed hard, her throat completely dry.
Kim: Voluntary manslaughter.
There. It was out. No taking it back. Kim waited, watching the emotions flicker across the mom's face; shock, confusion, fear.
The silence stretching, the weight of it pressing down. The employer didn’t move, didn’t say anything. Just stared.
Kim exhaled sharply and pushed herself up from the chair, awkward, unwelcome.
Kim: I... I’ll let myself out.
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