Boiling Over

1648

The household had been unbearable for months now. Day upon day Mevrouw was growing more intolerable. She would create extra work for both Heylwigis and me, throwing tantrums if there was any dust on the cabinets and demanding the floors be cleaned twice as frequently. On one occasion, Mevrouw berated Heylwigis for not addressing her in a manner she saw fit. I saw in her eyes the demands of a woman mad with holding onto power.
As Mevrouw became more irritated, I noticed Meneer‘s attention became fixed on me. Since that night he appeared at the kitchen door, his intentions became clear. Despite the feelings of my heart and the connection we shared in our sittings, there was nothing I could do to further the affection. There was a blockage in our way, and I dared not do anything overt to attract the attention of Mevrouw‘s wrath.
As I was preparing a hearty lunch for the painter in his studio when the kitchen door swung open with a bang.
“You,” she spat.
I turned from my place to see Mevrouw‘s red scolding face looking straight back at me. Her eyes had viper, as though they intended to inflict a terrible illness onto me.
“You’re a dirty minx and a liar!”
“Mevrouw, I-”
 “How dare you come into this house and take him from me,” she fumed.
I smirked, “Mevrouw I have not-”
She cut me off, wagging her finger in my face, “Don’t you dare. You played dirty tricks on his mind and flaunted yourself in front of him. You’re nothing but a whore!”
She screamed in my face with such rage I thought she would try to tear me to pieces. At that moment, the room felt like it would burst. My heart was racing not with fear, but with anger. I had headed Helwegis‘ warning. I had turned him away despite the stirrings in my heart. If Meneer had different ideas about Mevrouw, then so be it, but it was not only my doing.
“He sought to marry me. He had promised me a life with him. How dare you whoremonger him away from me!”
“He never wanted to marry you!” I screamed. 
I hadn‘t imagined it to come out quite so crass. Before I could swallow my words, they were already lingering out in the open. Mevrouw was stunned. Her anger was momentarily disabled by my sudden outburst.
“He promised you nothing,” I said with pointed words, “And your delirious flights of fancy bring you down here to me for what? He does not want you.”
I could see tears well in Mevrouw‘s eyes because she knew it to be true. She left the kitchen without a word and I heard a door slam upstairs not long after.