Not Nice

Author’s note: “Not Nice” was chosen for the Autumn issue of HeavyGlow, 2006.

It wasn’t very nice of him, Sue thought as she washed the dishes. No, not very nice of him at all. She placed each dish in the drainer, positioning it carefully so that the dishes did not touch each other at any point.

Clear glasses were next. She fitted her slippery hand inside each one. Hand encased in a glass prison. Fingers barely able to wriggle. Twist, twist, and they were clean.

In the drainer, just enough room between them for air to swirl and dry. Never touching. Never. Touching.

She plunged her hands in hot, soapy water and felt for silverware that dropped to the bottom of the sink. Not nice, not nice, not nice. Her fingers closed upon sharp tines of the forks as they pierced her fingertips. Her fingers pulsated, keeping time with her heartbeat. Much as her body had pulsated last night, in shame, in pain, in denial. Denial that afforded her nothing, since he took what he wanted anyway. He fell asleep, a thousand miles between them.

She shifted from foot to foot to ease the throbbing between her legs, rinsing forks under running water, watching red threads from tiny punctures run down the drain. Down, down, all the way down.

Sue placed each fork precisely on a white kitchen towel with a blue border. She placed them exactly, so that not one touched the other.

Grabbing the brillo pad from its nest in the ceramic frog, she scrubbed the frying pan next. She scrubbed until her fingers were raw and her knuckles bled. Again she rinsed, steam rising from hot water and scalding. She squinted her eyes against the heat, against the pain, against the raw. Not nice.

The pan joined its brethren in the drainer, not touching.

Sue wiped her hands on her apron, leaving small red smears. She untied it and walked to the clothesline outside and hung the apron on the line with wooden clothespins. It flapped in the breeze. Sunshine would help bleach out the red smears.

The neighbors would talk, but she didn’t care. She felt very brave, flying her white apron-flag with red smears out where everyone could see. Not nice, not nice.

(c) 2006, Annetta Ribken. All rights reserved.