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 Created on 2-5-08
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 Story Rating G
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"Good. That’s better." She went out of the kitchen, and I hid behind the front room wall where the tapestries hung, watching as she held her dress up and glided up the stairs. I cautiously stepped into the kitchen. There was cook, bent over dishes, cups, plates, forks, knives, spoons, looking at them, tears splashing as she tried hard to stop the onslaught.
"Cook?" I whispered quietly in the doorway. She didn’t look up.
"What is it? Are you here to mock me now?" I slowly walked to her side.
"I would never mock you." I put my arms around her, resting my head on hers. "I’m sorry, Cook. I truly am." The tears sputtered from her, and her quiet cries became sobs as she turned to me and buried her head in my chest. I was about 3 inches taller than she was, her headed fitting perfectly on my chest, as she cried into me, grabbing onto me for dear life. I could feel her anguish as she let her uncontrollable sputters roll out of her. Was this fair? Was this the life I wanted to lead? Why did it have to be this way? I patted her back. Cook had always been like a guardian to me, just as Jessica had been. Didn’t they deserve love and care, like I did? Why did mother have to treat them with such disrespect?
I have learned that though we say, as a people we are all created equal, we are not. Whether it is race, religion, or opinion, there will always be the thought of a higher stigma. As I held Cook in my arms, I understood the meaning of this. Without compassion, how can anyone be equal? There will be jealousy, deceit, hate, etc… Cook’s pain washed over me, and I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I never heard small footsteps by the back doorway. There, as I held Cook, telling her not to worry, telling her she was my family and that I loved her, stood Marie, tears welling in her soft eyes.
"Shh," I cooed. "You’re alright. We all love you. Mother doesn’t get to decide to let you go because we are your family. We will always love you." Marie dropped her basket of rolls, from the bakery down the road, and ran out of the room. I was so stunned, and Cook, shocked from her emotional beating watched the bread tumble from the basket onto the cold tile.
"That’s the symbol of life, boy." She said, starring sparingly as each bread roll came to a halt.
"What?"
"The symbol of life. When you aren’t needed anymore, you are cast out into the cold to fall down on your knees, unknowing until you die." I grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her until she looked at me.
"That is not true! You know that is NOT true!"
"Have you ever wondered why people are the way they are, feel what they feel, do what they do? It’s simple, boy. We all try to be in the loop, to make it. We all try to be in the same circle, but not all of us fit. It’s not fair to keep pretending, only to be cast aside each and every time." I was staring at her in disbelief. What was she saying?
"Cook, you know what you mean to us."
"Yes, I know. I’ve known for years. But I am not going to sit and pretend anymore." She pushed me aside and wiped her eyes with a napkin, placing it on the shinning countertop. "It’s time I did something with my life, without taking orders from someone else." I could feel self-pity curl in my stomach.
"You can’t mean that! We need you; Jessica, Marie, myself. You’re are family!" She busied herself pulling out boxes from a small closet just outside of the kitchen.
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