The Room Just Down The Hall

Hot showers always help me sort out my thoughts. It’s an excuse to lock yourself away in a small space, allow your tense muscles to relax, and be insured privacy. But I was too tired to stand up, so I opted for a hot bath instead. Call me a child, but bubbles never fail to make me smile, so I found an old bottle of the stuff under the sink and drew myself a short little break from everything and everyone. For some reason, it didn’t occur to me that Frank might be spending the night. I should have expected it, though. He stays over night constantly. Yet I was more than surprised when the turning of a door handle shattered the silence (accompanied by the abrupt stopping of the playlist that had been running in the back of my subconscious mind) after having been peacefully submerged in the steaming, bubble-topped water un-interrupted for a good half an hour. Cocking my head to the side just slightly at the sound, my cheek brushing a mound of small, crisp white bubbles that made a wrinkling sound like plastic wrap at the touch. Frank walked in casually, his strides confidant and his gaze on the floor as if he hadn’t expected to find anyone upon his entering (clearly, otherwise he wouldn’t have entered at all). When he looked up to see me laying there under the protective layer of blue-berry scented bubbles, gazing back at him, he took a step back.

“I thought I told you to lock the door next time,” He said in an easy tone, his soft lips curling into a grin, adorned by that single silver ring...

“You know, sharing a bathroom with your brother of all people, you really should know better by now,” He continued. I contemplated how to respond for a moment, thankful for the blanket of bubbles; otherwise I would be blushing a bright cherry red, way past my collar bones.

“I didn’t expect you to still be here. What, did you want to take a piss?” I asked bluntly, gazing on expectantly in waiting for an answer.

“I’m sorry, I feel unwelcome. Did you want me to leave?” He joked in a lazy, effortless way, frowning just a bit for the full effect.

“And no, I came in to borrow a tampon, I ran out,” He rolled his eyes, but not in an annoyed way. Of course he wanted to take a piss. What else did high school boys use the bathroom for? I mean, the ones who don’t take steroids or shoot heroin, which Frank did neither of, at least to my knowledge. And as far as I could tell, boys didn’t shower at sleep-overs either, nor did they really bother with a change of clothes. Most guys could get away with the sweat a little longer than girls. If you’re lucky, they might go as far as to at least try and mask the signature scent of testosterone and body odor with an unfortunate amount of Axe. If you’re lucky…

“First of all, you don’t borrow a tampon… Once you use it, it’s yours, and no one in their right mind would want it back. Secondly, would you like me to shut the curtain?” I finished in a polite, questioning voice.

Frank just smirked, like he was pleased with my response to his sarcastic high school humor, and took a few steps forward. Resisting the instinctive urge to move backwards, I kept my head held high and my chin lifted as he scooped a good amount of bubbles into the palm of his hand in one smooth movement. Kneeling down so that he was eye level with me, he blew on them with force that was impressive for someone with smoker’s lungs (Then again, he was still young and I had heard him screaming what I could only guess were lyrics through the wall barricade that separated mine and my brother’s room. He was good at it too, like he practiced a lot during his free time. So maybe his lungs were trained to be powerful.) Once they were in the air, some of the bubbles seemingly disappeared, bursting into molecules too small for the naked eyes to see (unless you were trying really, really hard, which I wasn’t, occupied with observing other, more fascinating sights…) Other flecks of the soapy foam landed in a random, scattered pattern along my cheeks and over the bridge of my nose, where freckles would be located if I had any. Then others came to rest against my dark eyelashes, caught like falling snowflakes. Frank winked, leaving me with a simple, “I’ll hold it,” before exiting so that I was once again alone with the quiet, the bubbles, and the now lukewarm water.

Notes

I know it's short, Shh....