The Mask of New Paris ✓

VIII. A Regular Day

It is early in the mornin' when the sound of the engine of the skiff interrupts the eerie silence. Birds around the house fly up and the batting of their wings, makes me inch one eye open. Groaning and stretching, I climb out of bed and reach for my robe. 

Still half asleep, I thunder down the stairs and stroll towards the kitchen. It is incredibly silent and as I look through the window that looks out over the jetty. I realize it is because Reed has already left.

I sigh before I turn to the provision cabinet and search for some sweet chocolate to nibble on as I am slowly waking up. Reed has left me alone again on my tiny island in the bayou. I lean against the cabinet and let the early sunshine roam across the room, leaving not a single corner uncovered. 

I stretch my neck until I hear a satisfying crack. This is my sign to get started with the day. As I walk out of the kitchen, I notice a pair of trousers tossed on the counter, a tiny note attached to them with a safety pin.

"Good Morning Annabelle, could you please fix the button on this pair? Reed"

I look around a little dazed. Not even married for a week and already receiving orders. I shrug and go back upstairs. I immediately claim the tiny bathroom to myself. Ever since I first set foot in here, the room is filled with brushes and hair pins, lipsticks and makeup brushes. A single toothbrush and razor are proof of Reed's existence in this room.

I sleepily put on some water on the stove and open the window for some fresh air instead of the dampness that filled my room last night. As soon as I have enough lukewarm water to somewhat fill the bathtub, I sink inside of it and let my head hang back. 

Somehow, today reminds me of Sundays back at home, when I didn't have to go to the Trade and had the entire day to myself. I observe my hands and nails carefully in the slightly scented water, before I decide to climb out of the tub and rub myself dry with one of the thick towels underneath the sink.

I observe my image as I twirl my dark brown hair inside the towel. The ring on my ringfinger shines dull in the morning light. 

Wrapped in my towel, I dart towards my bedroom and get changed, this time choosing a simple black dress with tiny white buttons. I ignore my shoes and let my damp hair hang down my shoulders, before I decide to put a hairpin to keep it from falling into my face.

In the mirror I catch sight of my clothes from previous days all crumbled up into a pile on the chair. Perhaps, I should do laundry today.

The pile tucked between my arm and my chest, I head towards Reed's room. I can only imagine he too has clothes that need washing. Even though, I know he's not here, I hesitate to enter the room. Flashes of his previous state of undress yesterday morning catch up with me and make my breath hitch. I swallow it away and push the door open with an unexpected force.

His bed is neatly made but as if he too didn't know what to do with his clothes, they are piled up on a table next to his dresser. Without staying any longer than necessary, I lunge for his clothes and storm down the stairs.

In the kitchen, I dump all of our clothes on the counter and head for the provisions room to find any sort of bucket or washtub big enough to fit the pile of clothing. Finally after a while, I've managed to require all what I deem to be needed to do our laundry. If Reed gets back I will seriously suggest a washing machine of sorts, I think as I add some soap into the warm water and start picking out certain colored clothes to wash. With a swing, Reed's shirts disappear into the water. The smell that lingers on them fills my nostrils. Strong, masculine and perhaps even tabacco twirl around me.

I shake my thoughts away and focus on the task ahead of me. Once the first pieces are done washing, I need a place for them to dry. I look around the house for any sign of a line that is already hung up with that sole purpose or even a rack although it would surprise me if Reed would grant himself such a luxury. Finally I decide to twirl some twine to the supporting beams of the porch and hang our clothes up outside. The sun is shining down on them, so I believe they will be dry soon.