LbA: Trashy

The next couple of weeks flew by due to traveling for tennis.  When I got back, I chose to drive straight to my parents’ house instead of going to my apartment.  I was exhausted and just needed to sleep.  It was the middle of the day, but I didn’t want to be interrupted by the noises in the building or my roommates coming in and out of the apartment.  I got to my parents’ home and crashed.

Several hours later I woke up, feeling much more refreshed.  I had texted my mom before falling asleep to let her know what I was doing.  I stretched long and yawned.  I grabbed my cell and clicked the power button to awaken my phone’s screen to check the time and my phone was dead.  I rolled over and plugged my phone in. 

I strained to listen and could hear some light clanging.  I got up and padded out to the kitchen, where my mom was emptying the dishwasher.  “Hey, mother,” I called.

My mom turned and smiled at me.  “Hey, daughter.”

I sat down at a stool at the kitchen bar.  “I think I’m going to stay tonight and drive back in the morning.”

“Oh, good.  I’ve missed you!  We’re having chili and cinnamon rolls for dinner.”

I grinned widely at her.  “Mmm.  Love.”  Maddie had teased me profusely when I had first introduced her to that combination.  It’s a widely Nebraska favorite.  But absolutely delicious.  Maddie, not being from Nebraska, didn’t understand it.  But once she had it together, she won’t eat anything else with chili.

My night passed by quickly.  It was so good to be home.  My dad was back teaching again, and seemed to be doing a lot better.  I guess they were kind of in a watching stage to make sure the tumor was completely gone.  They were doing another CAT scan and MRI in a few weeks to check his progress.

 Ben (Zach’s dad) was out of town on business, so my parents invited Gloria over that evening and we played Spades and drank wine (naturally).

“Aleah, Zach was asking me how you’ve been doing,” Gloria stated with raised eyebrows.  I knew it was still our parents’ dream for us to be together.

“Oh, yeah?  And how is Zach?” I asked.  Truly curious, but at the same time I really didn’t want to know.  Deep down, I was hoping he wasn't dating anyone, as selfish as that was.  Double standard, I know.

“Zach is doing so well!” Gloria’s face lit up as she spoke about him.  The way mine did.. or used to.  With love.  “He acquired an internship at a hospital down there in the pediatrics unit, and his classes have been going well.  I think this semester he will have a 4.0.  He’s going to visit some medical schools around the country, but the first few are in New York, I believe.”

“Hmm, yeah, I know Zach’s dream is to go to medical school,” I said wistfully.  And immediately after hearing her mention New York I was taken back to our trip there last school year.  To the hotel.  To our sightseeing.  To the handholding and kissing.  To the ring.  I started spinning my finger, feeling naked, as I had put the ring up in a keepsake box of mine at my dorm. 

“I think that would be really nice, Aleah,” I heard my mom say.

I snapped out of my daydreaming.  “Sorry, what?”

My mom slightly frowned at me.  I’m sure for my rudeness of not paying attention.  My mom said, “Gloria was just saying that she thinks Zach misses you, and how you should give him a call sometime, and I said that would be nice.”

“Oh...” I trailed off, trying to quickly think of how to finish.  “Um, I do miss him, too.  I just know he’s busy and didn’t want to interrupt him.”  Though really, it was unspokenly too difficult for us to talk often.  When we had broken up three years earlier, we didn’t keep in touch for that exact same reason, until we’d run into each other that fateful day last spring.

“Dear, you know that Zach would never be upset if you called.”

The subject was changed then, and I went back to daydreaming about our New York trip.  I also thought of Elisabeth, and how it’d been awhile since we spoke.  We talked on the phone usually once a month, catching up.  We had developed a friendship, though long distance.  I made a mental note to give her a call sometime soon and touch base.  Last I knew she was going to surprise Lukas in Florida, and I knew that was awhile ago.

I lightly thumbed my right ring finger a couple more times, the emptiness of it, feeling like a burden.  I decided that I would start wearing the ring again, once I got back to school.  If anything, it was always a token of Zach’s love for me that I didn’t want to ever forget, no matter where our paths took us.

When I walked into my apartment the next morning, everyone was already gone for classes.  And it smelled horrible.  I didn’t want to be stuck in a smelly apartment.  I could tell there was something rotten in the trash or fridge. 

Before showering, I opened the fridge and saw several containers of food and soup that were in the fridge from before my first tennis trip.  I grabbed some grocery bags and emptied the food into them and dumped them in the trash, gagging at the putrid smell that seeped out at the opening of the lids.  I took the lid to the trashcan off and grabbed the bag.  My finger broke through the plastic, and I swore under my breath.  As roommates, we took turns buying trash bags (and other various household items), and whoever had bought these most recent ones went the cheap route.

I sighed and heaved the bag out of the can, tying the drawstrings closed.  I briskly walked out of the apartment towards the stairs.  I started down the stairs.  Half way down, the plastic surrounding the drawstring ripped a ring around the top of the bag.  I was left standing there holding the red drawstrings, watching the now open bag tumble down the stairs.

I closed my eyes.  “Shit, shit, shit,” I muttered under my breath, for the second time today.  I stared down at the trail of something resembling flour and soup remnants, staining the cheap linoleum.  I rolled my eyes and internally screamed. 

I decided to take the ripping bag out to the dumpster before cleaning the mess.  I picked up the bag, squeezing the rest of the top of the thin plastic together, seeing it was ripping, and hugged it to my body.  I scrunched up my nose at the smell.  I started power walking to the dumpster, feeling the plastic spreading thinner and thinner.  I put my hand under the bag to support it, and my fingers plunged straight into the bottom of the bag, my hand and forearm now encompassed in trash.  I finally made it to the dumpster and threw the bag in there and looked down at my liquidy/trash covered forearm and hand.  I ran back to my building, knowing I needed to clean up the mess before anyone slipped in it.

I grabbed the door handle with my one clean hand and tugged, the door of course locked.  And me, of course, keyless.  In my haste to get the trash out, I had forgotten my keys.  And it was chilly out.  I slammed both of my hands on the window in the door, leaving one gross, murky reddish/brownish handprint.  I dropped my head and closed my eyes, thinking.  I knew most people would be gone for class.  I guess I could always start buzzing down the line of buzzers to see if anyone was there and awake.

I heard some hearty laughter behind me and turned to see Aaron standing behind me.  Although sweaty, he was still sexy in sweats, tshirt, and running shoes.  I looked down at my reddish/herb/flour/liquidy covered arm, my oversized Nebraska Wesleyan track tshirt circa 2000 I had found at Goodwill several years ago that I sleep in, my hot pink tie-dyed pajama pants, and flip flops, and imagined my unwashed hair gathered in a slumpy half-side ponytail and leftover makeup from the day before.  I closed my eyes, willing for this day to end, already.