Image Credit: Meta AI
Supply bucket handles rests on my arms, I survey the exterior of my AM house layered under the vacuum and mop on top of the buckets. I am a monstrosity. Good mornings are exchanged between one another. I clock the single banana lying in the fruit bowl. I tidy and it is immaculate. I am like Mary Poppins but for houses. They so much love me. Before I depart I swipe the banana. It is their only banana left. Not long after I'm gone they go to their fruit bowl for a snack and think “huh, I could have sworn we had a banana.”
Two weeks later I come in again. As usual, good mornings are exchanged. An extension of good mornings we summarize our goings ons and as we are chatting I glance at their fruit bowl a few times. A hearty bunch of fine bananas. Good. Patience rewarded, I whistle an eerie tune as I break off a piece of banana from the bunch. My client is just behind me. I act cool, just slide the banana in my purse and turn around. “I’m all set for the day.” I smile before I leave. The words “uh” and “um”punctuate his speech, he’s completely bewildered.
Weeks pass by, same story. Always just one banana, always missing. My clients become distressed. I want to giggle and laugh in their faces until I wheeze but I compose myself. My voice raises in pitch, my amusement is exponential. I try my possible best to still my face to be like a calm river bank or something but I am a child full of glee and the muscles in my eyebrows and mouth spasm.
Then, one day I step in, and: I. See. No. Bananas. None in the fruit bowl, none forgotten or in transition on the counter, not even any sign of banana anything, like banana bread for instance. Well played, I think within me. This time, I am the one who is distressed and bewildered. They are observing my reaction. It is like when mom and dad called off Christmas. My ride back home is pensive and melancholy. My clients reconvene– Mr. and Mrs. feel guilty about my banana loss that morning.
A couple weeks again- I come in humbled and defeated before I spy them; two whole majestic bunches, sparkling yellow in the porcelain fruit bowl. I have trouble containing my excitement. I stretch forth my hand and liberate one banana. Before I can place it into my purse I gasp! There is already a banana lying inside my purse. It is most definitely not my banana. Somebody must have put it in there when I wasn’t looking, what a mystery. I turn to my left and right, not a soul in view.
As I head to exit through the front door I stop by the home office. With slitted eyes I say my goodbye. She is kinder than usual, reassuring and more emotive, as if she is talking to a frightened child. My two eyes are burning lines, I might as well be in a spaghetti western. My shoulder slams into the doorframe as I turn to head out. And from that day onwards I always find a single banana in lying my purse whenever I clean for them, before I head out for the day.