As Long As You're Mine

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

       “I can’t believe him!” I fumed, taking a sip of my steaming beverage to try and ease my nerves. “Honestly, who does he think he is?”

       “I still don’t understand what he did,” the blonde boy in front me said, wiping his sweat-stricken brow.

       “I was attempting to do my own laundry, all by myself, but he had to step in and help,” I said strongly, crossing my arms over my chest.

       “Whoa, whoa, whoa- you were doing your own laundry?” Blake questioned skeptically. I nodded, partially understanding the obscurity that the action held in my lifestyle. Growing up, I will admit, I never once learned or had a need to learn how to do my own laundry.

       When I moved away from home, simple things such as cleaning the dishes and doing the laundry became part of my radar. Before, none of that stuff mattered to me. I knew in the back of my head that it somehow had to get done, but I never once actually made the connection that someone had manually do it.

       Over the past couple of months, the boys and I have tried our best to survive… on paper plates and a service that does the laundry for you. This morning, I needed a load of laundry done… fast. The place we generally used wasn’t open. I decided to venture downstairs, near John’s living quarters, and visit the washing machine.

       I threw my clothes in, and followed the instructions regarding fabric-softener and laundry detergent. Everything was going great. It wasn’t as hard as I had thought, and it was fairly easy. I returned to my room, and took what I thought to be a short nap. When I awoke, it occurred to me that I had put my clothes in the washer, and that they were probably now ready for the dryer.

       I lugged my groggy self down to the laundry room I had barely visited since moving in, and checked the washer. There were no clothes. I freaked out. Frantically, I opened the dryer to the right of the washer. There were no clothes. I had no idea where my clothes were.

       I called for the boys, and they came rushing down to the room I was in, concerned, and asking what was wrong. I told them I didn’t know what had happened to my clothes. John gave me a puzzled look, and Nick burst out laughing. I slapped both of them, demanding an explanation. Nick told me that he had heard a strange beeping sound, and came downstairs to see what it was. He put the clothes in the dryer, and when they were done brought them upstairs. I was livid.

       “Yes, I did do my own laundry… until Nick had to go and screw it up!” I responded to Blake, drawing the Styrofoam cup up to my mouth once again.

       “So, he did your laundry. I’m sorry Elle, but I don’t understand what’s so wrong about it.”

       “I was trying to be independent, and Nick prohibited me from doing so by stepping in and being the idiot that he is,” I explained logically. Who does that?

       “It sounds to me like he was trying to be helpful and possibly, I don’t know, create less work for you,” Blake said, glancing down at the watch fastened around his wrist.

       “But I didn’t want his help! I wanted to do something on my own and have the satisfaction and knowledge that I wasn’t being reliant on another individual!” Why was it that no one understood?

       “I understand that Elle, but look it from Nick’s point of view- all he wanted to do was help, he didn’t know that you had wanted to do it yourself, and was only trying to be helpful,” he said, trying to reason with me. I wasn’t hearing it. “What he did wasn’t in spite, but rather a generosity; he didn’t know would backfire on him.”