“Why?” He ghosts his foot along my leg. “Stay the day.”
“My clothes are kind of ruined.” After art sex, I mistook them for a towel and used them to wipe the paint off me.
“My ex left some stuff in the closet. You’re about the same size. Pick something out.”
“Oh, okay.” If only my brain wasn’t filled with fog so I could explore why he still has an ex’s clothes two years later, but alas, I’m too chill to care.
Ryan’s phone rings from atop the nightstand and he rolls over to check it. “Sorry, it’s a client. I have to take this.”
“No worries.”
To give him privacy, I kick back the covers and shuffle to the closet. Hanging in the closet’s corner is a hodgepodge of women’s clothing. Five minutes later, I’m dressed in a pink and gray flannel and joggers. Is it weird I’m wearing his ex-girlfriend’s clothes? It’s so darn weird, but beggars can’t be choosers.
Ryan gives a head nod as I pad out of the room and close the door behind me.
On my way to the kitchen to scrounge for food, the doorbell rings.
“It’s me,” a female voice calls out. “Hello?”
I tiptoe over and peer through the peephole. A woman with a dark bob and arms full of grocery bags is on the other side.
I swing the door open.
“Oh.” Her hazel eyes widen. “Where’s Ryan? I’m Ruth, his mother.”
This revelation causes a comfortably numb panic. Will I ever meet family in a normal way? Why do these men not realize this is a big deal? Once upon a time, people alerted you to important matters like this. Perhaps this is the new norm, and no one informed me. It’s a clown world, after all.
“Hi. He’s on a business call.” I step aside. “I’m Chloe.”
She enters with a pinched frown. “I come over on Sundays to clean and do laundry and bring him food.”
Wow. That’s…not my business, but I can’t stop myself from saying, “Really?”
“Is that a problem?”
“No. No. It’s nice.” I smile to ease the tension surrounding us and throw my mom under the bus, “Really nice. My mom always made me do my laundry once I became a teenager.” Sorry, Mom.
“Girls are different.” She crosses the living room and calls out over her shoulder, “Are you his girlfriend? He didn’t mention a girlfriend.”
“Well, we’re new. No labels yet.”
I follow her to the kitchen where she sets the bags on the counter. “It’s been a long time since he’s had a girlfriend, so I’m not opposed to it.”
This is not good. My first impression is shot. How long before she realizes I’m high? “I can go get Ryan for you.”
“No. I don’t want to disturb him. He’s very important to his job, so I respect that. Sit.”
While she unpacks groceries, I take a seat at the dinette table when I really want to crawl under it and hide. If I say as little as possible, maybe I can fake my way through this until Ryan arrives to save me. In a blur, she removes an assortment of deli meats, bread, pasta, and a variety of ingredients from her endless bags. Through it all she chatters like an energizer bunny, hopping around the kitchen. Silently, I send up a desperate prayer to the heavens.
Dear Lord, it’s Chloe. It’s been a while, okay forever, and I know I’m a heathen, but please, do not let me think she’s a rabbit. She needs to like me, so if you could do me that solid I’ll be a better person, and…well, I probably shouldn’t commit to more, because we both know I am not known for making the best decisions. While I’m here, if you could help me with that too, I’d appreciate it. Thank you. Peace, love, and you rock. Amen.
“Can I ask you something?” Ruth twists her lips, clearly contemplating her question. “It might seem forward…”
“Sure. Go ahead.”
“Why are you blue?”
“Blue? Well, I had an argument with my friend. How did you know?”
She turns from the refrigerator. “Oh, I meant your face. It’s got a light blue tint.”
Of course my face is blue. Mirrors are my friend. I need to remember this. “Well...I was painting and got it on my face.” That’s pretty much the truth.
“Oh, okay. I didn’t know if it was a new makeup trend. It’s a nice shade on your forehead. Goes well with the blond hair.”
“Thanks.”
Ryan finally enters the kitchen. “Hey, Mom,” he says as if it’s no big deal he forgot to mention her planned visit.
She hugs him. “Hi. I was just talking to Chloe about her blue face. She’s an artist too?”
“Yeah,” he says. “She makes pottery.”
“Oh, interesting.” But not too, because she doesn’t ask any further questions. “I got all the things you like,” she tells him. “What’s on the agenda for today?”
“Just some work and then chill.”
“Sounds fun.” She pats his chest. “I’ll be cleaning.”
She grabs supplies from beneath the sink as Ryan checks out the haul she brought; it’s all very awkward. Because I can’t let her clean alone, I offer to help. And even more awkward is that she accepts and I end up doing Ryan’s mountain of laundry, while he sits at his desk, doing his very important job. It’s okay, though. It’s domesticated. If domestication means one person doesn’t have to help.
Really, I don’t mind. I’m fulfilling my pledge to be a better person, and it gives me an opportunity to avoid speaking to Ruth in my stoned state. Not that she minds I’m not speaking to her. I get the distinct vibe she’s not feeling me, so really, I’m happy to be secluded in the laundry room. Doing endless laundry.
“What’s this?” I hear her say as I fold T-shirts. “It’s magnificent.”
I peek my head from the laundry room and see her holding our sex art. My mouth drops open, aghast, as she props it against the couch and runs her hands over the smears of my ass. “This big blue spot reminds me of the ocean, endless and huge.”
Instead of snatching it from her roaming hands, Ryan sits in his chair, still doing very important business. “Had a creative spark last night,” he says.
“Where should we hang it?” she asks, scoping out the room.
“I think the bedroom is a good spot,” I suggest. Now that I’ve seen her touch it, I’m not sure about having it in the living room.
“No,” she says. “I think it works best here in the entryway.”
Alrighty then. And just like that, it’s decided. Ryan agrees to her spot, and she smiles.
“I’ll hang it later,” he says.
Okay, I get it. I’m the new girl, but it’s my butt on there. Oh, well. I return to my laundress duties while she sweeps the floors. When she’s ready to leave, his place sparkles from top to bottom.
“Thanks, Mom,” Ryan says, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
“You’re welcome, honey. Nice meeting you, Chloe. Next time, if you’re here, I’ll show you how to fold shirts correctly, so they’re in a neat little stack. I fold them with the design facing out so Ryan knows what shirt he’s picking.”