May
The steam cleared as she stepped out of the shower onto the gritty mat. She walked over to the mirror and wiped it off, letting out a steamy sigh.
Why did she watch American Beauty last night? It was on cable when she flipped on the TV and plopped down with a bowl of fried rice that her temporary roommate made a few days ago. When you travel, sometimes you don’t get to pick where you stay. If something works out, it just does. Plus, this place worked out with cable and a futon.
The movie was much better than anything else that was on, at that time, as far as she could remember. But, it always made her look at life with such nostalgia. Worse than that, it made her feel spineless. So spineless, in fact, that she couldn’t even ask for her glorified toothpicks back. She knew that her roommate stole the overpriced box of tea tree chewing sticks. He looked the other way every time she mentioned losing them. Then, she saw them in his bag when he reached in to grab a blanket at the park. She saw, and she said nothing.
She almost felt embarrassed for catching him, and she didn’t want to deal with his reaction for being found out. Would he lie? Would he get defensive? Is it all just a misunderstanding? No. Surely not that last part. Her roommate reserved his money for cigarettes, drugs, booze and activities that could get him laid. Why would he pay for Whole Foods impulse check out items if he didn’t have to? And of course he didn’t have to. He could just take them, and she wouldn’t say a thing.
She dried her pruned palms and grabbed her smartphone. Her fingers skated over the screen, and the ambiance of Brian Eno filled the tiny bathroom. She looked at herself in the clean swipes she’d created in the mirror.
“Can I have my sticks back? Do you have my chewing sticks? Give me my toothpicks back. It’s not okay for you to take things from me without asking.”
Letting out another sigh, she thought, “My god. They’re just toothpicks. Just let it go.” Then she remembered that scene in American Beauty. She closed her eyes and tried to picture her whole life up until that point. All she could think of were the toothpicks, running in the warm rain in Panama City, the Rocky Mountains. She wished more would come to her, but she then she thought, “My god. It’s just life. Let it go.”
the end.