summer of '04
yesterday in creative writing i wrote about the defining moment of my year.
of course, it doesn't really matter if i post it or not since both of you (yes, i am aware that there are only 2 people who really read my live journal) know about it already! but here it is anyway:
A lot can be revealed when going through someone’s laundry. Don’t worry, I’m not a creepy laundry going through kinda girl. I don’t even like folding my own clothes.
So there I was, sitting on their couch, the textured fabric warm against my bare back. I tugged at my shirt to make sure it covered my stomach and pressed my silk covered legs together.
She was folding laundry. I should have offered to help, but I didn’t know whose was whose, and it might have seemed too forward. She yelled at her husband that he had put a pair of clean socks in the laundry.
“They’re all rolled up!”
“But you just rolled them up!”
“No, I didn’t, they were like that already!”
I had seen her roll many pairs of socks, so my judgment was skewed but I decided to make the situation girls against boys. “It’s true, I saw, they were like that already.” I played off of him, with a childishly flirtatious smile and a slightly raised eyebrow.
He snorted and rolled his eyes.
She rolled hers. I parroted her actions. “Guys are dumb. My brother is always putting his clean shirts in the laundry.”
I had never seen this side of them before. He was a god to my friends: A sexy, gnome-ish looking idol who spouted poetry and could never do wrong. She was the envy of all: A gorgeous, aged authority on everything who could pull any string in the city to get what she wanted. I knew they were mortal, somehow I had always known it, but it had never been important.
The house was cluttered with things pertaining to children, and later she would make me swear not to tell anyone about what a mess it was. I didn’t judge. I couldn’t. Had she seen my room, she would have know that I would not be holier than thou on the subject of organization.
I focused on the Monty Python’s Flying Circus DVD collection on the top shelf.
“Are these your fancy underwear?”
Out of reflex, I turned around at the sound of her voice. She was holding up a pair of men’s red briefs with blacks hems. It took me a second of shock to realize that I should not be seeing this. This was too personal to share with the outside world.
His head popped into the room “What?” First confusion. Then embarrassment: “Don’t be showing her my underwear!”
He snatched them from her hand. I’m sure that I had turned precisely the same shade of red. I covered my mouth to keep the giggles from escaping, because once I start giggling I don’t stop. “Oh god, I promise I won’t tell! I didn’t see anything!”
His eyebrows arched and made direct eye contact with me “Sexy!” The teenage boy escaped his middle aged shell. He teased me, flaunting our secret in front of me.
“Don’t use that word in front of our guest!” She hollered after him as he darted from the room, probably to shove his underwear in the back of his drawer.
“Ooh my….” I sighed, as I attempted to cool the flush from my face. At this point I realized that my anxiety had caused me to break into an oozing sweat. My legs were sticking together. My shirt was probably stained with salty circles.
That red underwear burned into my mind. To this day I still can’t escape the image playing on the back of my eyeballs. I’m not upset though. It makes for a good story to tell.
of course, it doesn't really matter if i post it or not since both of you (yes, i am aware that there are only 2 people who really read my live journal) know about it already! but here it is anyway:
A lot can be revealed when going through someone’s laundry. Don’t worry, I’m not a creepy laundry going through kinda girl. I don’t even like folding my own clothes.
So there I was, sitting on their couch, the textured fabric warm against my bare back. I tugged at my shirt to make sure it covered my stomach and pressed my silk covered legs together.
She was folding laundry. I should have offered to help, but I didn’t know whose was whose, and it might have seemed too forward. She yelled at her husband that he had put a pair of clean socks in the laundry.
“They’re all rolled up!”
“But you just rolled them up!”
“No, I didn’t, they were like that already!”
I had seen her roll many pairs of socks, so my judgment was skewed but I decided to make the situation girls against boys. “It’s true, I saw, they were like that already.” I played off of him, with a childishly flirtatious smile and a slightly raised eyebrow.
He snorted and rolled his eyes.
She rolled hers. I parroted her actions. “Guys are dumb. My brother is always putting his clean shirts in the laundry.”
I had never seen this side of them before. He was a god to my friends: A sexy, gnome-ish looking idol who spouted poetry and could never do wrong. She was the envy of all: A gorgeous, aged authority on everything who could pull any string in the city to get what she wanted. I knew they were mortal, somehow I had always known it, but it had never been important.
The house was cluttered with things pertaining to children, and later she would make me swear not to tell anyone about what a mess it was. I didn’t judge. I couldn’t. Had she seen my room, she would have know that I would not be holier than thou on the subject of organization.
I focused on the Monty Python’s Flying Circus DVD collection on the top shelf.
“Are these your fancy underwear?”
Out of reflex, I turned around at the sound of her voice. She was holding up a pair of men’s red briefs with blacks hems. It took me a second of shock to realize that I should not be seeing this. This was too personal to share with the outside world.
His head popped into the room “What?” First confusion. Then embarrassment: “Don’t be showing her my underwear!”
He snatched them from her hand. I’m sure that I had turned precisely the same shade of red. I covered my mouth to keep the giggles from escaping, because once I start giggling I don’t stop. “Oh god, I promise I won’t tell! I didn’t see anything!”
His eyebrows arched and made direct eye contact with me “Sexy!” The teenage boy escaped his middle aged shell. He teased me, flaunting our secret in front of me.
“Don’t use that word in front of our guest!” She hollered after him as he darted from the room, probably to shove his underwear in the back of his drawer.
“Ooh my….” I sighed, as I attempted to cool the flush from my face. At this point I realized that my anxiety had caused me to break into an oozing sweat. My legs were sticking together. My shirt was probably stained with salty circles.
That red underwear burned into my mind. To this day I still can’t escape the image playing on the back of my eyeballs. I’m not upset though. It makes for a good story to tell.