Obedient Wife

She hesitated, and then nodded, "I can sleep on the... the couch, if this what you want."

"Good," I smiled, "Now, the bathroom is right there, the door between the bedrooms. If you'd like to take a shower, feel free to. I keep a few extra towels in the cabinet next to the sink, and you can use my shampoo and body wash."

I then showed her the kitchen, and then the tiny room off the kitchen which was the laundry room. One couldn't move around in there much if the dryer door was open, that's how narrow the space was. My laundry basket sat on the closed washer, full of clean laundry that I hadn't gotten around to putting away. I may be neat, but I hated folding and putting away clothes, seeing as how I'd just be taking them right back out to wear them.

"Well, that's all of my apartment," I smiled, "So, if you're sleepy, I'll get you a blanket and pillow."

"May I..." she asked and then hesitated.

"Whatever it is you're asking, I'm sure it would be okay," I responded.

"I am afraid to sleep when I do not know the place... may I stay awake longer? If you want go to sleep, I will be quiet so not to wake you."

"I'm not tired yet," I admitted, "I just thought you might be. Would you like to watch TV?"

"I... not allowed to watch the TV. Belong to husband."

"Well, this is my TV, so you're allowed to watch it with me."

"If you want me watch the TV, I will."

"I'd like you to, but only if you want to. This isn't your husband's house, so the rules you follow there aren't gonna be the same rules you follow here, okay? Here, my rules are as follows: no sleeping on the floor, only the couch or my bed. If you want to watch TV, you are allowed to watch TV, even if I'm not watching it with you. If you're hungry or thirsty, you are free to get something from the kitchen, and I know you'll clean up your mess after. If you need to use the bathroom, take a shower, or a bath, since the tub is a nice size for that, you are free to do so. If you want to wash your clothes, you can do so, and I can loan you a pair of sweat pants and a shirt to wear while you do that. Am I forgetting anything?"

She listened patiently, and I hoped that she'd appreciate my rules, considering how tirelessly she tried to adhere to the rules her shitty husband had set for her.

"Will you try to follow my rules?" I asked, "As a guest in my home?"

"I will try my best follow your rules, if this what you wish," she nodded, appearing to be close to tears once more.

"I hope I didn't just offend you somehow," I worried.

"No..." she responded, "I... you are very nice... very kind... to me. No man ever this kind to me before... I am not sure how to feel."

"Well, I'd like you to feel at ease here."

"At... forgive me, I am not sure what this is."

"It means that I would like you to try to relax and not to worry so much. I know that won't be easy for you to do, but I'd like you to try, okay?"

"Hai," she nodded, and then clapped her hand to her mouth, "I mean... yes."

"Hai means yes, doesn't it?"

"Yes... but I must always speak English."

"Something else your husband told you to do?"

"Yes... he not like it when I speak how he cannot understand."

I felt disgusted at how badly she'd been treated to have had to become this obedient servant without an opinion of her own.

"Okay, that's a new rule here, then, because you should be free to speak your own language, not just English, as long as you'll tell me what you said afterward. Try it, say something in your language."

Kyoko thought for a few seconds, and then said, "Watashi no otto ga anata no yōdattara īnoni."

"See? That sounds beautiful... so what does it mean?"

She blushed and translated, "I wish that my husband... was like you."

I smiled, replying, "I do, too. I think you deserve a husband who would treat you like an equal and not like a servant. So, Kyoko, would you like to watch TV with me?"

She hesitated, and then nodded, "I would like to do that.

She sat stiffly next to me, without about a foot of space between us, as I turned the TV on, changing it to AMC. An 80's movie was playing, Weird Science. Kyoko leaned forward slightly, not understanding what Chet and Wyatt were trying to accomplish with the computer and the doll.

"What are they doing?" she asked me.

"Um..." I said, "They're trying to create a woman."

"I do not understand."

"Well, they're not popular, so they know they can't meet and be friends with a woman the normal way, so, in this movie, they're trying to create a woman."

"That is silly," she frowned, "Not make woman that way."

"No, not in real life. It's a silly movie, but there's always a lesson in the movie."

"I am sorry."

"Huh?" I looked at her, "Why are you sorry?"

"You let me watch the TV, and I... say bad things about it."

"There's no need to be sorry, Kyoko. You're right, it is silly. But that's the fun thing about movies, they don't have to follow the rules about what's real and what's not. Most of the movies we have that aren't about historical events follow one simple idea: What if? What if Chet and Wyatt here," I indicated the two actors in the movie, "What if they could create a woman this way? And what if this woman was not only very smart, but magical? What would happen?"

Kyoko paid very close attention to what I said, which, honestly, I don't think a single woman in my life has ever done, and she nodded, "I think I understand. So, in real life, this is not possible, but in movie, it might be possible, because movie does not have to be real."

"Something like that, yes... have you ever watched TV before?"

"My mother's sister, Ami, never have TV, and my husband say I can never look at his TV."

"Oh. Well, think of it this way: In movies, anything is possible."

"I like that," Kyoko admitted, "Do you watch many movies?"

I nodded, "Whenever I get the chance, yeah. They're great for entertainment and for escaping reality for a little while."

"May I... I would like to get something to drink... if this is okay," she started to get up, and I stopped her.

"I have an idea," I smiled, "I'd like you to sit right there and try to relax, and I'll make you something to drink."

She seemed very uncomfortable with the idea, such a crazy role-reversal, "Oh no! My... I am to serve drinks and food... that is my task."

I knelt in front of her and patted her knee, "You are not a robot, you are a woman, and a pretty woman at that. Robots are programmed to perform their tasks, and they are unthinking machines. You are not an unthinking machine, are you?"

"I am... not unthinking machine," she looked at her hands.

"Then don't act like one. Here, you can relax and let me do for you for a change. Can you try to do that?"

Kyoko sniffled, "I am sorry. I try to do as you request... I am his wife for four years. I do what he say for four years, and... it hard stop doing what I do four years."

I stayed where I was for a few moments, my hand on her knee, watching her struggle to disregard four years of what amounted to brainwashing.

"You're right," I sighed, "I'm sorry. If you'd like, you can get your own drink."

"Would you like me get you drink? A beer, soda, or anything?"

"No, Kyoko, but thank you for asking. That's very sweet of you."

She blushed, and I moved so she could get up.

The movie ended, and she was looking sleepy now, but she refused to say anything. She simply sat there, looking at her hands, waiting for permission.

"Are you tired?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"It has been... long day," she sighed.

I nodded, "Then, would you like to rest?"

She glanced at me for a few seconds, and then returned her eyes to her hands, "Yes, please."

It was infuriating just how thoroughly he had conditioned her, so much so that she couldn't even go to bed without the bastard's permission.

"Okay, I'll let you be so you can get some sleep," I stood up, and she flinched back a little.

"T-thank you," she whispered shakily.

I knelt before her again; I think even that simple act confused her. I'll bet that bastard of a husband had never once knelt before her. I held out a hand, and, after a few seconds of stillness, she finally placed her hand in mine.

"Kyoko, you are most welcome," I squeezed her hand gently, "May I ask something of you?"

"Please," she nodded.

"I was hoping you'd allow me to use some lotion on your hands. Your skin is chapped and cracked, and it looks a bit painful. Do your hands hurt?"

She looked at her hands, as if just now noticing their condition, "I clean much. Chemicals make hands dry."

"May I rub some lotion on your hands? I'll be gentle, I promise."

She was bewildered, "I not rub lotion on my own hands?"

"You can if you would like, but, if I may, I'd like to do it for you."

She nodded, still confused, "I would be grateful."

I led her to the bathroom, where, in the cabinet under the sink, I kept a small bottle of Vanilla-and-Ginger-scented lotion. I squeezed a dollop into my palm, smeared it around a little, and then held my hands out. She submitted, placing a hand in mine, and I gently began to rub the lotion into her skin. I added a little more lotion for her other hand, and, when I was finished, she brought a hand to her nose and breathed the scent in.

"It smells very nice," she smiled tremulously.

"And I hope it helps your hands to feel a little better," I responded, "You're a beautiful woman, Kyoko."

She shook her head, "Not beautiful. No other man would have me, and I am lucky husband chose me."

"No," I took her hands in mine, "Kyoko, that is not true at all. You are very beautiful, and any man who met you would be lucky to have you."

"I..." she stammered and then didn't know how to respond.

"He only told you that to make sure you never knew you had other options. Anyway, I'm keeping you up. I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

She nodded silently.

"That means no sneaking away before I wake up, right? Promise?"

"I-I promise not to sneak away."

"Good. Sweet dreams, Kyoko."

I let go of her hands, and she bowed, backing away a few steps before turning and hurrying back into the living room. She turned off the light in the living room and made her way to the couch, standing there in the near-dark for nearly five minutes before awkwardly lying down on it. I went into my bedroom and climbed into bed as well, wondering what it was I was getting myself into. All that conditioning she'd been put through, even there in my living room, away from the bastard, he still had his hooks in her mentally. Something like that could take just as long to undo, and there was no guarantee she wouldn't try to go back to him long before then. I might be doing all this for nothing, which would be a shame for Kyoko, because she deserved so much better in a life that had done almost nothing but knock her down. Of course, that didn't mean that I intended to give up on her. I drifted off to sleep after a while.

The sun was up, I noticed as I awoke, groggy and unsure of my surroundings for a few minutes. Then my brain kicked in, and I remembered everything that had taken place the evening before. I could hear Kyoko in there, and it sounded as if she was scraping metal with metal. I got up, rubbing my eyes, and went into the living room. Kyoko wasn't in the living room, but the kitchen, and she was occupied with preparing breakfast. The sound of metal on metal was her beating eggs in a metal mixing bowl.

"I make you breakfast," she greeted me, "I am sorry if I am too loud and woke you."

"That's quite okay," I leaned against the bar top, "Good morning. How did you sleep?"

She blushed and confessed, "I try to sleep on couch as you want, but I only fall asleep when I sleep on floor. Please do not be angry with me."

"I'm not angry with you, Kyoko. I'm just glad you slept. I guess, since you're already making breakfast, I won't stop you. But I do ask that you join me in eating breakfast."

"I will," she nodded."

She whipped up some tasty omelets with cheese and mushrooms, and she set them at the table. I noticed that hers was much smaller compared to mine, and I suspected that this was done intentionally, asserting that I was more important and, thus, should receive larger portions. She started to wash the dishes with which she'd used to prepare and cook.

"Kyoko?" I called.

She hurried over, looking worried, "I do something wrong?"

"No, these omelets look and smell amazing," I assured her, "But I'd like you to sit with me before they grow cold."

"But the dishes..." she looked back at the kitchen.

"Please? I'd really enjoy it if you'd sit and eat breakfast with me."

She carefully sat at the table, "I promise to do dishes immediately once you are done."

"Kyoko, the dishes can wait just a little bit. How are you feeling today?"

She waited until I began eating before touching her own food, "I feel... better. I fold laundry in basket for you, and clean kitchen before I cook."

I asked, "And why did you do all that?"

She hesitated before answering, "I wanted to because you help me so much. I wanted to do so that you see I am grateful."

"You don't have to do all this just to show that you're grateful."

"Did I do wrong?" she placed her hands in her lap, "I am ashamed."

I sighed, "Kyoko, you misunderstand me. I appreciate very much that you did those things for me. What I mean is that... here, stand up for a minute."

She stood next to her chair, and I walked around the table and stood in front of her, "Is it okay if I hug you to show how much I appreciate you?"

She nodded uncertainly, and I slid my arms around her sides to the small of her back, gently pulling her to me. She seemed unsure how to respond.

"Now, you put your arms around me," I instructed, and she complied.

Her ear pressed against my chest, and I could feel her trembling.

"How does that feel to you?" I asked.

She hesitated for a few seconds, and then admitted, "Warm... nice..."

"Any time you feel grateful to me, for whatever reason, you're welcome to hug me to show it."

"I may hug you... like this?" she squeezed a little tighter.

"Just like that," I nodded.

"I feel very grateful," she said softly.

"I can tell. Do you like hugs?"

"I like very much."

"Okay, well, we should probably finish breakfast, though."

She seemed reluctant to let go, but she did, and we sat down to finish eating.

Once our plates were empty, she stood, gathered the dishes together, and went into the kitchen to wash everything. I offered to help, and she meekly but staunchly insisted upon doing everything herself.

"What am I to do?" she asked as she dried her hands on the dish towel and hung it up upon the bar next to the sink, "You were kind to let me stay here last night, but what I do now?"

I stood next to her, "I wasn't going to make you leave after one night. Kyoko, you're welcome to stay as long as you need to so you can figure things out."

"I cannot ask you let me stay longer. You are kind, but you have life, and I interfere."

I chuckle, "I don't know about all that, but you don't have to ask me if you can stay longer because I'm offering. I would like you to stay longer; I honestly would rather you not go back and subject yourself to the kind of horrible treatment you've suffered. But, I guess, if you decide to do so, I can't stop you."

She looked down at the empty sink, silent for a moment or two.

Then she spoke quietly, "You have shown me great kindness, never a man so kind when he not have to be to woman he do not know. I am scared to go back. If you will allow me to stay, I earn my keep. Anything you need, I do, clean floor, wash clothes, I do-"

I held a hand up, and she stopped talking, so I replied, "Kyoko... I understand you feel like you have to repay me somehow for helping you, but I didn't offer in hopes of gaining a maid."

"What good am I if I can't earn my keep?"

I touched her hand, which still rested on the lip of the sink, "You are plenty good. I'd rather you be my friend than my maid."

"Why would you want me to be friend?" she asked, confused.

"Because you're worth knowing. I'd consider myself lucky to have you as a friend."

She swooned on her feet, and I slipped an arm around her waist, "Okay, let's have a seat in the living room."

I half walked her and half carried her to the couch, and she sat with a sigh.

"This all so much," she whimpered, "I knew my place, my role, and then everything change and I feel lost."

"It's a lot to deal with," I patted her hand, "That's why you need a friend to help you deal with it."

"You really... you want be my friend?"

"If you'll let me."

"I never have friend before. I don't know what is friend."

"A friend is someone you can share your worries with and count on to support you," I explained, "For example, I'm gonna get a cool, damp washcloth for you to put on your forehead because you look like you might faint."

I got up, stopping her from standing when she attempted to, and went into my bathroom to wet a washcloth. I brought it back to her and directed her lie back on the couch and keep the washcloth on her forehead.

"I feel silly," she complained.

"Well, then feel silly, but you need to just relax for a bit, okay?"

I sat down and pulled her feet up into my lap, beginning to massage one.

"Why you do that?" she tried to sit up, "You want me massage your feet?"

I shook my head, "Uh-uh, you lie down and keep that washcloth on your forehead. I'm keeping your feet elevated to help you, and I'm massaging your feet because your feet need to be massaged."

"They do?" she frowned, "I never have feet massaged."

"I kinda figured that, but you're going to now. I'll bet your feet hurt pretty badly, don't they?"

She shrugged, "I get used to it."

I rubbed her heels for a few minutes, and then her arches, and then the balls of her feet, "Feet take a lot of abuse, and I'll bet yours have had more than their share."

She sighed, submitting to my massage, so I continued, still talking, "I can feel all that tension through your poor little feet, you know? If you really want me to stop, I will."

"Feels good when you massage," she relented, "Makes my feet tingle."

So I kept massaging for a bit, until my hands started cramping up, and even then I continued to rub her feet, just with much less pressure, until I was doing little more than caressing her soles.

"You treat all women so kindly?" she asked.

"I try to be nice to everyone."

"You massage their feet and offer your home?"

"No, not usually that nice," I shrugged, "Just to you. How do you feel?"

"Very lucky you talk to me in grocery store."

"I meant, do you still feel faint?"

"I feel better, not dizzy."

I nodded, "Good, but you should just lie still for a bit longer. Keep your feet in my lap."

So I sat there, still gently rubbing her feet while she lay there.

"Why you not married?" she asked timidly.

"I was for about a year and a half, but it didn't work out. She didn't like feeling tied down, so when she wanted to leave, I gave her what she wanted."

"Oh... you massage her feet?"

"She didn't like me touching her feet... she thought feet were gross."

"But you do not?" she peeked at me from under the washcloth.

"Yours aren't," I answered, "Your feet are cute and small."

"You like cute, small feet?"

I smiled, "I hadn't really thought about it before. You have pretty feet, though."

She grew quiet for a few minutes, still peeking at me, and then she asked, "You go to work today? I can make you lunch so you not hungry at work."

I started rubbing the tops of her feet, "I don't work anymore, not unless I get bored of sitting at home all day. My mom died when I was twenty, but she left me an inheritance."

"I am sorry," she whispered.