When Alice was born, the midwife told her mother that she was destined to be happy, as if she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. And indeed, until she turned five, Alice was truly content: her mother braided her hair, read her picture books, and only occasionally got annoyed when Alice didn’t remember the alphabet. Her father taught her to ride a bike and took her to the countryside, letting her steer on the country roads.
When she turned five, her parents announced that soon Alice would have a little brother.
“It’ll be your birthday gift,” they said.
The gift arrived just in time for her birthday and ended up overshadowing all subsequent celebrations. From the very first year, Keith occupied a special place in the family. Initially, because he was small, and later, because he turned out to be a prodigy.
Keith learned to read before Alice, who, even by the age of twenty, read no faster than a first-grader (nowadays, it would be called dyslexia, but back then, they sent her to a remedial class, lacking such terminology). He could do math so well that the teacher who met him was in awe and rushed to phone her professor. Not to mention, Keith effortlessly crafted poetry—peculiar, but remarkably original.
Thus, Alice’s peaceful life came to an end. Not only did she share her birthday with her brother, but her entire world now revolved around Keith. It was Alice who took her brother to school, to English classes, to swimming lessons, and to Professor John Smith. When she wanted to join a home economics club, her mother protested:
“Do you expect me to quit my job and escort Keith to the professor and music lessons? You always think about yourself!”
And Alice gave up. If she managed everything correctly—keeping track of Keith’s intricate schedule, preparing two separate dinners (Keith became a vegetarian at six, and her father couldn’t go a day without meat), and earning a bit of spending money (by walking her neighbor’s dogs in the evenings)—her mother praised her and affectionately patted her short haircut.
Alice’s hair had been cut because her mother no longer had time for braiding; mornings were for repeating English with Keith or jotting down his night-time poetic creations, while Alice made messy ponytails. The teacher, in turn, left red-ink comments in her diary. Displeased with these remarks, her mother took Alice to the hairdresser for a cute short style, but Alice mourned her long braids through the night.
“You’ll graduate school and do what you like,” her mother remarked whenever Alice weakly protested against yet another duty involving her brother. “What’s the difference to you, anyway? All you do is read your recipes.”
After graduating, Alice’s role remained unchanged while Keith’s life progressed. Alice became his secretary, drafting Keith’s schedule, monitoring contests and competitions, and sorting mail. When she voiced a desire to work at a dog shelter, both her mother and Keith scolded her, lamenting that without her, they would be lost.
And Alice succumbed again.
Only once did she rebel against this ingrained unfairness—when she met Boris.
Boris wasn’t conventionally handsome; he was tall and hefty and spent all day coding at his computer. His family gifted him a dog, hoping he’d venture outside more. Instead, he hired Alice, and through her dog-walking job, they met. Before long, after walking his dog, Alice remained at Boris’s for the night.
Her mother called, demanding she return home; ironing shirts was loathsome to her mother, and Keith only wore tailored ones. Keith complained his pencils weren’t being sharpened, and they were out of meals besides her father’s pasties.
“Leave me alone! I’m not your maid!” shouted Alice.
Boris comforted her with promises of marriage someday, but then he left for America, lured by a lucrative job offer.
“Sorry,” was all Boris could muster.
When they announced that Keith was to receive an award, their parents were bursting with pride, sharing the news with all the neighbors. Alice’s duties increased alongside the preparations. Despite being exhausted by the time they arrived, with everything set—his tuxedo, the speech, and an awaiting audience—Alice kissed her brother’s cheek backstage and slipped into the hall in hopes that her parents saved her a seat.
A tall usher blocked her path, declaring, “Service staff can’t enter this way.”
“What?” Alice was confused.
“Wait for your master backstage,” a younger usher advised with a disrespectful glance. “In such rags, you don’t belong out front.”
Alice glanced down at her worn dress—not due to a lack of options, rather a shortage of time for change. The true issue lay not in her attire but in their perception of her as a servant. Still, they were not far off—maid is what she was.
Her brother gazed at her with surprising eyes, and for an instant, Alice thought he might tell those ushers, “Let her through; this is my sister.” But he stayed silent—the presenter was calling his name—and he headed to the stage, not glancing back at Alice.
Alice found a low stool by the wall and closed her eyes, running errands through her mind: collect the suit from the cleaners, reserve a hotel, arrange dinner reservations, and sort through emails—two days had passed since her last check. So many congratulations awaited; how would she handle them all?
She tuned out Keith’s speech—it had been rehearsed to her the previous day, and it was impeccable. Customary thanks to parents, educators, pledges of dedication to national and global harmony. Her memory was good enough to mentally track the paragraphs.
But something diverged from the script. Instead of extolling his cherished parents and the unforgettable Professor John (who, in a fitting outfit, likely watched from some celestial vantage), Keith declared:
“I was meant to say something different here, but listen… there is indeed one person without whom I wouldn’t be here today.”
Alice soon saw her parents exchange triumphant glances, each believing their contribution was more significant, while Professor John likely tumbled off his perch in shock.
“She devoted her life to me. I never noticed for a long time, took it for granted. Yet, it’s high time I repay her kindness. Her role in my life is invaluable, unmatched by any worldly treasure.”
Her father’s vein probably pulsed in aggravation as was his pattern, and her mother’s eyes likely welled with tears of joy.
“This day is dedicated to you. And the prize money, I intend for you, so you can establish the dog shelter you’ve always dreamed of, to pursue what you desire.”
Those words reached out to her, and as Keith grabbed her hand, leading her to the stage, Alice barely realized the gravity of the gesture.
“Meet my sister Alice. Without her, I’d never have achieved anything.”
Applause thundered, and stage lights dazzled Alice’s eyes. Only then did she grasp the unfolding reality. She gazed at Keith with thankful eyes, and he returned the look with a warm smile. That smile healed what felt broken—Boris’s departure, her unmet heart’s desires, the lonely dogs needing a home. In the spotlight, she stood hunched and nervous but found something inside urging her to hold her head high.
Keith did indeed allocate the prize money to her and hired a young apprentice whom Alice trained in handling her brother’s affairs.
“You won’t be my maid anymore,” Keith confessed. “Forgive me, Alice, I was blind.”
And Alice forgave him. Truly, she set up a dog shelter, pursued training as a pastry chef, and started her own small enterprise—often manning the shop herself, but entirely on her vision. One chilly October evening, as she was closing the till, the doorbell chimed—a customer had arrived. Alice welcomed the tall man in a dark coat with a broad smile.
“You’ve returned…”
Alice felt her knees tremble, grasping the counter for support.
“Dear Alice,” smiled Boris, “Forgive me, for I’ve been a fool…”
Well, when the second most important man in her life asks for forgiveness, what more could one need?
Only her father hadn’t apologized—he and her mother had ceased speaking to Alice, assuming she’d coaxed Keith into gifting her the money. But it didn’t matter—parents were parents, as imperfect as they might be. Meanwhile, Boris had returned, and now, Alice knew everything would turn out alright.
