Fluff, Fold and Farewell

Manicured fingernails tapped across the paired collection of appliances. Her husband, David, had sought to talk Karen out of the cherry red color, but she stayed her ground, maintaining that white is monotonous, sterile and industrial, like a hospital. The remodeled utility room delighted her in the light, warm touches incorporated in the design. Wicker baskets held sorted clothing: white sheets, vivid colors and towels, which Karen always ran with the darker clothes. The basket of light clothing led first. She deposited them into the washer, fishing out a stray black sock that had become caught up with the sheets that made up the bulk of this load. Between the washer and dryer sat a slender counter where she placed all the detergents, bleaches, stain removing potions. With an experienced eye, Karen guessed this pile would demand a regular measure of white-brightening detergent. When their twin, 15-year-old boys had summer baseball practice, she devoted an hour scrubbing out grass and soil stains from their uniforms.

   Karen favored this time for listening to audio books, but she looked around, unable to recall where she left her cell phone. Resolved not to let that distract her, she closed the lid, twirled the dial to normal and gave the start button a satisfying push. The gentle echoes of filling water a balm to her restless spirit. She swung her scrutiny to the next basket, filled overflowing with bright clothing. Karen worked through every piece, using the same handling. First checking jean pockets. In a small tray on top of the dryer, she dropped change from her daughter’s pockets, empty candy wrappers collected from her two boys went into the waste basket. Through her husband’s several slacks, she drew out a parking receipt, a phone number with a doctor’s name on it, and a generous volume of wadded tissues. Oh dear, thought Karen, is David coming down with the flu? She set the phone number aside and tossed out the rest. She needed to talk to David about taking better care of himself.

   With a concerned frown, she turned to the shirts. This involved reversing the kids’ shirts. Once, she offered back the found money if everyone took their shirts off and they weren’t inside-out. It never happened, so Karen kept a container on the ledge above the washer. A simple mason jar with a small slit in the cap for change and the odd bill. A crimson and silver striped ribbon knotted around the top and a sticker that said “Mom’s Vacation Fund.” She beamed at the recollection of her daughter having created this for her during a craft making phase around the age of eight. Her eldest child was now concluding her final months of high school and looking forward to starting state college next year. Karen couldn’t be prouder of her daughter going to college, even receiving a scholarship that helped meet tuition. That smile faded as she turned to face her biggest foe. The boys’ socks had a potency strong enough to make her eyes water, and their underwear not too far off from doing the same. She scrunched up her face and with the lightest of pinches began picking out the boxer briefs.

   After sorting through the many colorful socks belonging to her daughter, Karen wondered how many days worth of dirty clothes lay before her. Laundry time occurred every other day, but by her calculation she faced five days worth of socks. In fact, there appeared to be more laundry here than average. She struggled to recall why that would be. Did they return from a brief trip, a problem with one appliance? Karen tried to free the cobwebs that veiled her memory but it remained there, obscuring thinking. The husband’s jacket pockets provided a dozen coins and a folded piece of paper. It appeared to be a form from the local hospital. If only she could find her phone, she’d ask David about his health instead of worrying about him. A small hooded sweatshirt offered an admittance slip for both boys, exempting them from school for a couple days. Odd, she didn’t recall them missing school. She tried to make out the smeared date, but ended up tossing this onto the tray.

    It unsettled Karen to hear the buzzer announce a load finished in the dryer. Time moved like as if in a dream, ordinary moments stopped while others passed in a flash. The last group of unclean items yielded a mysterious, reddish-brown item. On closer inspection she realized it was a light-blue bath sheet, now stained. She began spraying and scrubbing with various stain removers except she never saw such a stain that resisted. Karen decided it would be best to let this towel have extra wash cycles. Several loads later Karen’s finished her favorite part, the folding and stacking of clothes based on their owners. She refused to put them away. That remained the family’s job, so each person collected their pile off the counter next to the dryer. The twins bought similar clothes, and she mixed up their things. Every time this happened, the boys would tease her about being incapable of telling them apart. She would laugh and say they should manage their own laundry, receiving faces of mock horror from the boys in response. All finished, except for the stained towel which she shook in her fist and cursed, “This will take forever!”

A voice answered, “Forever is a long time.”

Karen spun to find a stranger standing in the doorway. She gestured to the stacks of clothing. “Okay, maybe not that long, but I have washed this towel three times, and still, it’s not back to normal.”

The man’s eyes lit up, “Yes, we cannot erase some stains. Although it may lessen over time, the item will always remain altered. Still, I believe your family will treasure your efforts.”

Karen didn’t understand, “Are you here to help?”

The fellow smiled and nodded, “I am, and it is time to leave.”

She protested, “But, I can’t take off until all the color comes out of the towel.”

“It will not”, declared the visitor, “it is blood.”

The stranger said nothing further. Karen stared at the towel, then let it drop to the floor. Shock and bewilderment on her face shifting to acceptance as the fog lifted.

“It’s my blood.” Karen’s voice soft as she returns the visitor’s stare. “I slipped, in the bathtub. Struck my head.” She paused, looked toward the stacked clothes. “I asked to return home to remember my family”, she gave a little laugh, “and so I did their laundry.”

With the last request finished, the two of them faded away as the front door opened and David stepped inside. With effort he dragged his tired feet into the laundry room where he could remove his shirt, now soiled with tears,. Taking a moment to notice the clean, stacked clothes, he fell to his knees and sobbed for the next hour into the stained towel left on the floor.