Laundry Day

Nothing mattered. The game was on.

A light flickers in the kitchen.

“Did you turn the laundry over?” the wife asks.

“I did it this morning. Why? Did I not do it correctly?”

“No, I just wanted to know,” she pauses, “You forgot last week.”

“I’m sorry, dear.” It’s always the same thing. Just apologize.

The game continues, and the team scores. He yells in frustration. Dishes clatter behind him. The wife washes them in silence. Not very much comes from his outburst, as the opposing team scores again.

“I need to get ready to go.” The words are strained, and his chest is tight.

The faucet shuts off. “Don’t forget your wallet.”

He gives a small acknowledgement, hardly noticeable by her. It takes all his strength to close the door softly. The car door slams shut.

The drive to work was filled with recaps of the game. Once there, Co-workers chat softly next to him. They talk of plans for dinner, laundry, and the weekend. His work is monotonous. Just within his peripheral vision, the wife sits neatly in a little frame, smiling toothily on their anniversary. Someone includes him in the conversation.

“... do you think?”

“I’m sorry?” he whips around.

“We’re thinking of grabbing dinner after work. At, uh … – ” the co-worker turns to the others “– Where are we going again?”

“Piper’s,” one chimes.

“Piper’s,” the co-worker finishes.

“Piper’s?” he furrows his brow. Did I turn the laundry over?

“No, not Piper’s... Prishka’s. We’re getting Indian food,” the co-worker says slowly, “Unless you’d prefer something else.”

He hasn’t had Indian food for a while; his mouth salivates. Turning to check the time, the picture catches his attention. No, she might be upset. I’ve apologized enough.

“That’s okay, maybe next time. But thank you for the invitation.”

The door is locked when he returns home. Fumbling for his keys – the house is empty. He turns the TV on. Another team is winning. The crowd’s cheering echoes down the hall. Nothing mattered but the game.

A light flickers in the hall.

“Did you turn the dishes over?” the wife asks.

“I did it this morning. Why? Did I not do it correctly?”

“No, I just wanted to know,” she pauses, “You forgot–.”

“I’m sorry.” It’s always the same thing. Just apologize.

The game continues, and the team scores. Laundry clatters behind him. The wife washes in silence.

His team loses. The remote hurls across the room. Slamming against the wall, it shatters. The sound echoes, and his eyes fly open. A cup has shattered, fallen from the couch – her favorite mug.

Stumbling over laundry and turned portraits, he picks the glass off the floor. The room is spinning as he staggers to the sink and carefully places each piece inside. He does his best to get ready.

He closes the front door softly. The car door slams shut.

The drive to work was filled with recaps of the game. Once there, Co-workers chat distantly next to him. They talk of plans for dinner, cups, and the weekend. His work is monotonous. Just within his peripheral vision, Piper sits neatly in a little frame, smiling toothily on their anniversary. The co-worker includes him in the conversation.

“We missed you last night.”

“I’m sorry?”

“At dinner.” The co-worker turns to the others. They turn away.

The co-worker clears his throat.

“Well, uh, tomorrow I’m getting a group of guys together to watch the game. It’s been years since we’ve done that together.”

“The game against Canada?” he furrows his brow, “I already watched it.”

“I know,” the co-worker chuckles, “We watched it together. I meant this season’s game. It starts tonight at 7; you should come.” A quick hand on the shoulder before departing.

A game sounds fun. Did I do the dishes?

Turning to check the time, her picture catches his attention. No, she might be upset. I’ve apologized enough.

The door is locked when he returns home. Fumbling for his keys – the lights are off. The game was left on, and the crowd had stopped cheering. A player was injured. He watches in disbelief.

“Did you dish the laundry over?” the wife asks.

“I did it this morning. Why? Did I not do it correctly?”

She pauses,

“I’m sorry.” It’s always the same thing. Just apologize.

The game continues, and the team scores. Cups clatter behind him. The wife wrings them in silence.

The TV turns off. “I need to get ready to go.”

“Go where?”

“My co-worker invited me over.”

“I thought you promised to help me.”

Why is it always the same argument? I wish it would end. He gives a small acknowledgement, unnoticed by her. It takes all his strength to close the door softly. The car door slams shut.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep. His fingers don’t move in the morning. The drive to work was filled with recaps of the game. Once there, Co-workers speak softly away from him. They plan for dinner, anniversaries, and the weekend. His work is monotonous. Just within his peripheral vision, Piper sits neatly in a little frame, smiling toothily on their last anniversary. The co-worker engages him in conversation.

“Hey man, are you coming tonight?”

His head shoots up. “I’m sorry?”

The co-worker shifts his weight. “Are you coming to watch the match tonight?”

“Where?”

“Uh…, just at my place. You know, like last time. Before the accident?”

“Oh,” he turns back to the computer, “I watched it last night.”

The co-worker stands, no longer looking at him. “It’d still be nice if you came. We miss you.”

One match should be fine. No, she might be upset. “Piper’ll be upset if I go.” I’ve apologized enough.

The co-worker looks incredulous. “Seriously?”

“What?” Why is he frustrated?

“Nevermind,” his voice softens, “It’s not worth it.”

Not worth what? He turns to check the frame. Not worth what?

The door is locked when he returns home. Fumbling for his keys – the house is empty. A light flickers in the room, and the laundry is piled higher.

He reaches to turn the game on. It’s not worth it. The remote is cold in his hands, and the laundry is not done. Her dishes are broken. Dead flies line the mantel while dust has obscured the pattern on the urn and her side of the couch.

Maybe I’ll put a load to wash.

The drive to work was filled with silence the next morning. Once there, Co-workers are very engaged in conversation. He approaches his co-worker.

“Hey, man.”

The co-worker is puzzled. “Hi Ben.”

“Do you want to grab a beer tonight?”