I Signed for Housework, Not His Retirement

"What about me?" Paul asked quickly.

I let out a scoff. "We agreed from the start that lunch wasn't included. What you eat is none of my business. But you bought the lobsters with my money, and they cost 40 dollars each. That's a fifth of what you make in a day. If you want to eat it, I'm taking it out of your pay."

At that, Paul fell silent. He turned back to the counter and began working on the lobster, slamming the knife against the cutting board. It was as if he were venting his anger.

He scowled as he finished preparing the meal, then marched to the fridge and started rummaging around.

"Elijah, you've still got some seafood in here," said Paul. "Since you're leaving in a couple of days, you won't finish it. Why don't you just give them to me? I'll take them home for my wife.

"You've got plenty of good liquor in your cabinet too. If you can't take them with you, give me a few bottles."

He practically wore his greed on his face, and just looking at the food on the table made my stomach turn.

I put down my cutlery, stormed over, and snatched the seafood from his hands with a grim expression.

"I'm leaving, but I'm not moving away for good. Mind your own business!" I snapped. "Don't touch anything in my house. If so much as one thing goes missing, you'll be the first person I come after."

Paul pursed his lips and reluctantly averted his gaze. "I was just saying. If you don't want to give it, then don't. I've never seen an employer as stingy as you."

He complained about me right to my face without the slightest restraint.

At last, the anger I had been holding back for days boiled over. "Stingy? Know your place! Do you seriously think you're the boss here just because I tolerated you for a few days? Should I call the agency and ask if they even trained you properly?"

For a moment, Paul lowered his head and said nothing.

Before he left, I gave him one last warning. "Don't come tomorrow. If you do, you won't get paid."

As soon as Paul heard that, he threw the apron onto the floor and spat in my direction from across the room.

"Fine! I won't come! You think I care?" he yelled. "Just look at how stingy you are! You won't give me the house, and you refuse to leave me a dime for retirement!

"What woman would ever want to be with you? And who knows what shady business you're involved in to make all this money?"

Having said his piece, he turned and jogged out.

The words died on my tongue as the door slammed behind him.

…

The next day, Paul kept himself in check and didn't show up.

The day after that, I left to work in a neighboring city and stayed there for a full month.

When I finally had a week off, I decided to return home. I contacted the housekeeping agency to arrange for someone to clean my place, but I specifically told them not to send Paul. I'd had more than enough of him.

Yet, what infuriated me was that the person they sent was still Paul. I arrived home to find him just about to walk out.

Before I could get a word in, he launched into accusations. "Elijah, that's messed up! I've worked for you for so long. How could you hire someone else? If I hadn't seen it in time, this job would've gone to another person!"