Ugly Girl
Copyright© 2026 by Han Jansz. van Meegeren
8. Watson and the Difficult Case at Home
“Zuzanna, I would like to introduce you to Donald J. Watson. Donald is a friend of Martin and was a frequent visitor of Kinky Club Kinta. Girl, you might remember Donald from his last visit to the club.” Sandor said.
“I certainly remember you.” This Watson guy said to Sylvia.
I remembered him because he’d been such a bully to Jutta and Sandor’s wife when he has helping Sandor move stuff from the barn to the main house.
“Donald wants to discuss a personal issue with you, so we will retreat to the kitchen for a while.” Sandor stood up, and Ilse and Jutta followed him like toddlers trailing a man with snacks.
“Listen, I want to make you a proposition...” Donald J. started.
“No,” I said. “Whatever it is, the answer is no,” I raised my voice. “Sandor, you can come back now.”
Sandor came rushing back, his ducklings behind him. “What is going on?” he asked, confused.
“I haven’t even started yet,” Said Donald J. like a spoiled child who has just been told he won’t get any candy today.
“Please hear him out, Zuzanna. This man really needs your help,” Sandor pleaded.
“Why would I help him out? I don’t like him. I don’t like his sense of entitlement. He’s a rude, insensitive jerk who ignores people’s feelings.”
“What are you talking about? You have never seen this man before. This is not like you, Zuzanna. What is bothering you?” Sandor said.
“I have seen him before on your mother’s birthday. He said very insulting things to your wife and mother-in-law, and I try to avoid people like that in my life.”
“He didn’t really mean those things, Aunt Zuzanna. It’s part of our roleplay, you know that.”
“What he says to you in private is your business. If you accept that, that’s fine by me. But if a man does such a thing in front of a stranger, a woman he has never met before, I find that behaviour utterly repugnant, and a blatant disregard for common decency and respect.” I was on a roll. “Koen said that a Master should always have control over himself before he assumes control over other people.”
I stood up and pulled Sylvia’s chain a bit. She stood up as well. “If that is all?” I asked Sandor. 30 years of teachers’ experience. I have said that line with ice in my voice a million times in class.
“Obviously, you have both started on the wrong foot here,” Sandor tried again. “Why don’t we make a cup of coffee and calm down a bit?”
“Do you owe this man money or favours, Sandor?”
“No, of course not...”
“In that case, I will say goodbye. If you want to talk to me, you’ll know where to find me.” I walked out of the house. I refused to look back. Sylvia hopped into the Corolla first, moving to her driver’s seat more easily now. I followed her. Jutta came knocking at Sylvia’s window. She opened it. “Please do not leave like this. I know it sounds harsh if you are not used to the language, Zuzanna, but take it from me, he didn’t mean it meanly. And this is probably the first time that he has been called to account for his behaviour. He is a rich man, and not used to criticism.”
“I ask again: does Sandor owe this man something, anything?”
“No, I don’t think so. He is just a friend.”
“In that case, say hello to your friend.” I said, nodding to Sylvia. She started the car, and we drove away.
“Where did that come from?” Sylvia asked on the way back home.
“He annoys me.”
“I noticed.” Sylvia said drily.
“Is a slave a human being?”
“She is.”
“So why do you respect any fat guy that calls himself a master and humiliate yourself to him?”
“How you act as a slave reflects on your master. So if you act poorly towards another master, it means disrespect not only to your guest but to your own master as well. But you are not mad at Donald J. He is just an easy target.”
“Am I, Miss Know-It-All? Who am I mad at?”
“Sandor,” My bestie said.
We drove home in silence. We watched a movie on TV and went to bed. In the nude.
We haven’t found a solution for taking or making private phone calls yet.
“Hey, Sandor,” Sylvia said. We were in the kitchen making breakfast. Sylvia was calling her son. I could not hear his reply.
“Yes, well, that is what Zuzanna wants to talk to you about.”
“...” Couldn’t hear it. Annoying.
“Wait, I will check.” Sylvia pressed the hold button and asked: “Is it possible that Sandor will come here this morning? Do you have plans?”
“Let him come alone.”
“Sandor? Yes, this morning is fine. Come alone. And take time to reflect on exactly what you will apologise to Zuzanna for, so your apology is sincere.” She disconnected right after that.
“That was mean of you. The poor boy doesn’t know what he has done wrong.” I said.
Sylvia grinned. “He’s young. He will learn.”
“True.”
Sandor looks nervous. The tough, always composed ex-Marine seemed to have ants in his pants today. He looked broad. And handsome. Ilse had made a good choice in hanging on to him. Sylvia and I were making coffee for him. And ourselves. Each day, we were better in sync. She tended to the coffee machine, and I was taking care of the milk frother. Black for him, coffee with warm milk and a healthy milky foam layer for both of us. Walking with a tray with one hand tied needed a little more practice.
“So, Sandor, what brings you here today?” I opened.
“I came to apologise.”
“That’s nice of you. What exactly do you need to apologise for?” I asked.
He smiled that boyish smile so many women found irresistible. “I don’t have a clue. Please tell me what I did wrong, so I can offer a sincere apology.”