[Two Hearts Desire cover]

My Housekeeper

By Richard Labonte

From Two Hearts Desire

I met Asa Dean Liles in May of 1993, when I hired him as my housekeeper. We sat on the sunny back patio steps at A Different Light Bookstore in San Francisco for the interview. I thought his then-boyfriend was cute, and eyed him as Asa and I discussed domestic duties.

I have since learned that Asa is not a house cleaner by either instinct or desire, but he takes pride in his work: every Friday afternoon when I arrived home, my apartment was just right. He was a fine housekeeper.

Some Fridays, I came home before my housekeeper was gone for the day. Some Fridays, he would be in my library, watching black and white movies on the American Movie Channel. Some Fridays, we would share tea and talk a while. He was a friendly housekeeper, and told me I was one of his favorite accounts.

One fall day in 1993, a cold foggy San Francisco Friday, my housekeeper arrived late, found me at home, apologized for his tardiness and low energy. We canceled cleaning, brewed a pot of tea. You know books and you know writing, he said as we sipped, and he asked if he could read from his journal. He was my housekeeper, and he wrote with an astonishing shy and awkward clarity and strength.

Often I would come home to a soft light left on in my bedroom, a perfect pile of pillows on my bed, once flowers on the kitchen table. My housekeeper was a thoughtful man.

In December, my housekeeper was breaking up with the boyfriend. My then-housemate and I invited him to use a spare room. My housekeeper was now a house guest.

In January 1994, my housekeeper house guest and I went out for dinner. Are we in love? we asked. Yes, we answered. We went home and slept in his bed on the floor. My housekeeper was my lover. And we slept together every night.

In March, we broke up. My lover was now a house mate housekeeper. In May, my house mate asked to be my lover again. In July, we broke up. He was my house mate again, and less of a housekeeper.

In January, 1995, we bought a Ford Ranger. My house mate was now my lover again -- and my chauffeur, since I don't drive. In September 1995, we motored through Alaska and Western Canada for three weeks. In October, we went to the pound, and my house mate ransomed a nine-month-old mixed breed. Percy completes our family, he said.

In January 1996, my housekeeper/house mate/lover stopped working. The low energy of 1993 was now an intense, cloying fatigue. In May 1996, we bought a sleigh bed, which fills his bedroom.

I came home tonight, a Friday night, to -- let's tell the truth -- a less-than-pristine apartment. Look, Percy, look, Asa said to the whirling dervish dog. Richard's home. Richard's home! The family is together.

Late at night, Asa asks if I will miss him when he's gone. Will I take care of the dog? Who will clean my house? Do my laundry, rearrange the furniture? What will happen to the truck? Will I remember?

Many mornings, I crawl into his bed at dawn, my life wrapped in his, his in mine, Percy in ours. I won't ever forget my housekeeper. My house guest. My house mate. My lover.

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