Endless Laundry

She had become a person who spent $250 a week to complain about laundry.

“And whenever I start to express any frustration about it, he says he helps out around the house all the time and I’m not being fair.”

“Are you not being fair?” Mallory had been Jenelle’s therapist for three years. This was not her first time hearing about the mounds of clothing that accumulated throughout her house on a constant basis and it probably won’t be her last.

“He’s being unfair for instantly going on the defense,” Jenelle signed and grabbed a tissue from the West Elm end table.

She was not going to shed another tear over soiled socks. Not one more tear.

But it was good to be prepared if her body betrayed her.

“Tell me more,” Mallory said, nonchalantly looking down at her Apple Watch.

Jenelle always felt self-conscious when she thought Mallory was checking the time. She got it. Her life used to be interesting and exciting and full of real drama and now it was just…life…and she didn’t know why she got so worked up and overwhelmed and tired about it.

“I don’t know why I can’t just be happy. We have two healthy kids. He has a good, stable job. I have flexibility to write, but I always feel like I need to do more around the house. If I don’t put the dishes in the dishwasher, they just pile up. If I don’t do a load or two every other day, it just means more to do on the weekends. He’s the breadwinner, I’m the caregiver and sometimes he makes me feel like I don’t care to give.”

She felt a tear start to form in the corner of her right eye. Nope, not today. No tears today.

“At drop-off the other morning he made an offhand comment about how I don’t really have any hobbies and my body just started shaking. I have hobbies. I have passions. I just can’t do any of them because if I do then I’m neglecting him and the kids and not being a good mother or partner or laundress.”

The tear won’t go back into its duct. Instead it starts to slither down her cheek and onto her blouse.

“I do so much and yet I feel like I do nothing at all.”

Mallory shifted in her Emes-inspired chair. She never took notes during their session, but would pull at one of the many gold bangles on her wrist when Jenelle noticed she was concentrating extra hard on what she was saying…or thinking about what to make for dinner that night…she could never be sure. Mallory was an emotional fortress when it came to revealing anything about her own life.

“I think we should take a few deep breaths together.”

“Next week is my brother’s anniversary,” Jenelle blurted out. “I don’t want to be doing laundry on his anniversary.”

Bangle pull. Bangle push.

“How many years has it been?”

“Nine. It will be nine years next Thursday,” Jennelle whispered. Funny the tear was gone. Her face felt completely dry.

“That’s a significant amount of time, but grief has a way of showing up in the body and coming out even when you think you have it all under control.”

Jenelle put her hand up to her face. Still no tears.

“I know you usually spend that day with your sister. What do you have planned this year?”

“Nothing. We haven’t talked in two weeks.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I’d rather talk about the laundry.”

“It’s your time.”

* * * *

The summer heat hit her as she exited the building and started walking to her car. Jenelle didn’t feel the normal lightness that came over her after dumping her mundane issues off on someone else. All she wanted was a Dairy Queen Blizzard ice cream.

Her brother used to love going to get Dairy Queen Blizzards with her after school and suddenly she was consumed with the idea of eating one in his honor.

She pulled out her phone and saw the closest Queen was a town over, about 20 minutes. She looked at her phone: 11:23. She had about four hours until she needed to pick up the kids.

Was going forty minutes out of the way for a dessert a little impulsive? Sure, but Scott had said she needed to get a hobby. Now seemed like as good a time as any.

She put the car in ‘drive’ and took off down the road.

She pulled off the freeway ten miles later, following the calming British voice coming through her GPS. The bright lights of the city had faded into the more subdued neon flickers of the suburbs. Burger King. Kohls. The Dollar Tree. Taco Bell…all the heavy hitters were there, but no DQ. Jenelle pulled into a Chevron parking lot and began to type it into her phone.

Where was it? It said it was somewhere right here.

“Permanently closed,” came up in a red box on Google Maps. Shit, the next one was another 40 minutes away, way beyond the suburban limits.

She put the car in reverse and continued her drive. It was 12:15.

“Take the next exit in two miles and turn right,” her British co-pilot chirped, interrupting the silence. In under five minutes, a mint Oreo Blizzard would be in her possession. It’s what her brother would have wanted.

She rolled up to the drive-thru where an overly enthusiastic employee took her order. She threw in a Backyard Bacon Ranch Stackburger, chicken strips and fries for good measure. She had driven about an hour already and would probably get hungry on the way back into the city.

The car in front of her had a bunch of River Rat floats strapped down to the roof and proud university stickers all over its bumper. She could make out four or five people bopping their heads and dancing around inside.

How she longed to join them.

Screw it. She was going to join them.

The SUV pulled forward and she waited patiently for them to pay and get their food. She pulled out her phone and texted Scott that she needed him to pick the kids up from school. The little word bubble instantly popped up, then disappeared, then popped up again.

“Okay,” was his one word response.

Normally this would send her on a shame spiral. She would text a long explanation or make up some excuse as to why she needed him to do this favor. But today she took the okay at face value, turned off her phone, put it in her glove box and drove up to the window.

She asked teen cashier where she thought the car in front of her was going.

“Cache Creek is about five miles down the road,” he said. “That would be my guess.”

Jenelle thanked him as she took her massive bag of goodies. She took the top off the coveted Blizzard and pulled the spoon out of the plastic, hungrily taking bites. It had definitely been worth the drive.

Suddenly the Blazer zoomed past her. Without thinking, she pulled out started following it. The road turned from paved to dirt before eventually ending up at a makeshift parking lot.

Jenelle suddenly became aware of how lame she looked. She made sure to park away from the Blazer so they wouldn’t think she was a stalker or some weirdo. Three girls and two guys piled out of the car and started untying the rafts and unpacking coolers.

She got out of her own car.

Inside her trunk she found a yoga towel, a water bottle and an old People magazine. She grabbed everything and the Blizzard and started walking. She turned a corner and felt her breath catch in her throat.

Memories started flooding her brain, one after another. She sat down on a log to center herself.

It was so beautiful and so familiar.

Around her kids were splashing and playing and swinging on a rope swing. The group of college kids had already set up camp and were floating in the middle of the still blue water.

She could hear her sister calling out to her to hold her hand so they could jump off the rock together. Her brother laughing and egging them on from below. Her parents lounging on the sand. Everyone happy. Everyone content. Their whole life before them.

It had all been so simple then.

And Jenelle started to weep. And she didn’t try to stop herself.

Instead, she took off her shoes and started walking toward the glistening pool and, without hesitation, dived right in.