Meneer, Rembrandt

1647

I bumped into what I thought was the edge of the door. The cart rattled and I held my breath. I had but turned the corner when I realized I had made a most grievous error. I looked up and saw Meneer standing before me. He was a tall man, with a roughed golden beard dotted with grays. His lips were rosy, with a rounded nose and deep eyes that held a kind of mystery to them. He wore a slouched painter’s hat and dark robes. He shook his head, keeping his eyes lowered. His posture was often gruff, moving about the place with a hung head and stocky pace. I stood in front of him, my face flushed, to see what he would say. I cursed myself for charging out of the parlor so recklessly and straight into him. Surely a beating was not in order. Even if that was frowned upon now, I couldn’t be sure about these older men.
“Verily I am sorry,” I stuttered.
In a flicker, his face changed from annoyance to delight. With kind eyes, the corners of his mouth lifted to a smile.
“Think nothing of it. Have you just started?”
I bobbed my head in gratitude and breathed a figurative sigh of relief.
With a grin, I quipped back, “Yes, Heylwigis hired me not more than a week ago.”
“And you are from?”
“Bredevoort,” I said plainly. I felt almost a fool sharing my humble origins.
“Ah,” his expression changed, stroking his beard with concern, “I am sorry to hear of the explosion. Surely you have lost a great many people.”
“Yes,” I muttered.
“Well, you shall enjoy your time here. I think I make an agreeable host.”
He paused a moment to observe me. His gaze seemed to linger longer than it ought to, but it did not deter me from observing him back. In a heartbeat, he shook free from our encounter and seemed to remember why he was entering the parlor in the first place.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must attend to my duties.”
He motioned towards the double doors and I managed to maneuver the cart out of the way. I shot my eyes to the floor so my cap would cover my flushed cheeks.
As he walked past me, I could feel the air between us grow hot and uncomfortable. I walked down the hall with a steadfast gaze, pushing the cart in front of me and refusing to look back. I could have sworn I felt his gaze on me, but I pushed that from my mind for now. There was work to be done.