Dirty Dishes

There is no task more daunting, unsavory, or temper testing, than washing someone else's dirty dishes. 

The sink is spilling over with plates shoved haphazardly between coffee mugs, two pans burnt black, and a bowl with sodden cornflakes floating in milk tainted water. Sure, some of the mess is mine, but the majority of it is Lenora’s. 

Lenora has been living with me for a bit over 2 months now. She’s fine to live with most of the time, but dishes are something her little earthen hands cannot seem to manage. But, I try not to complain or ask too much of her, as living with me, Sally, is not particularly easy either. 

Well, living with Sally is just fine I've been told, it’s Jerica that offers a particularly unpleasant roommate experience. People describe her as entitled, callous, and downright creepy sometimes apparently. Unfortunately, I have what’s known as DID, or dissociative identity disorder. Back when I was diagnosed, it was called multiple personality disorder. But DID is supposed to be more politically correct, which neither I (Sally) or Jerica really care about. One of the most inconvenient side effects of DID, is the fact that it makes finding a roommate insanely difficult. 

The ‘room for rent’ sign in my yard, is a near permanent fixture. I took it down a few days ago at Lenora's request, but I'm sure in no time it’ll be back up. One of the only reasons Lenora agreed to rent the room is because I said she could clean up and use my Mom’s old garden beds out back. That, coupled with my standard letter from Dr. Martin stating that I have DID, I have two personalities (neither of which are dangerous), and that I can live and take care of myself on my own. 

Not that I have much of a choice in that, taking care of myself I mean. My parents died in an accident about 6 years ago now and my brother wants nothing to do with me. He thinks I'm crazy, which I am in a way. He’s never wanted to be around me since the incident in high school where Jerica came out and ruined his chances with a girl he had brought home while our parents were away. 

I miss Cathlene and David, Mom and Dad. My DID was early onset and they were always supportive. They gave me the tools I needed to live with my disorder. Because of them I got to go to public school, play sports, and I can maintain a real job. My dad especially always watched over me and made sure I was okay. Since their death, their funeral actually, I haven't seen my brother. Jack didn’t put up a fight or anything with the estate. I got the house, their cars, and all their money. So, I don't work too much anymore, mainly just a part time barista job to get me out of the house. 

I always have to explain all of this to every potential tenant when they walk into my parents' overly grand suburban house. It’s not common for someone my age to have this kind of house and be living alone. Most people casually turn around and make an excuse they have to go when I say my family is dead, I have DID, and the master bedroom is off limits. I haven’t touched the master bedroom since they died. 

Every so often, someone stays to talk a bit more. I give them the letter from Dr. Martin and offer to have them call him so they can hear from him that I’m as ‘safe and sane’ as I can be. I’ve had four housemates over the past few years, both men and women. Well, 5 if you count Lenora. 

Lenora is a bit too much of a ‘hippy’ for me. Beads in the hair, bare unwashed feet most days, and definitely smokes a lot of weed. But, she has paid her rent on time the past two months, and I can’t afford to be too picky about who lives with me. So, I’m trying to not scream in frustration about the dish quagmire that is the sink.

‘Deep breaths’ I tell myself. ‘Deep breaths’.

I grab the yellow rubber gloves from under the sink, and fish around in the dishes for the sponge. The once yellow sponge is now a decaying brown slug from having sat in amongst the cornflakes and coffee. I opt to toss it in the garbage and grab a new one. I’ll talk to Lenora when she gets back from work about the dishes. For now, I’ll handle them like a good housemate.

Washing them doesn’t take too long, despite how hard I had to scrub to remove the coffee rings inside the mugs. After that, I swept the floors and collapsed into the armchair by the front window. I watch the sidewalk for a while, making up stories about the people passing by, until that gets a bit boring and I reach for my latest romance novel. Romance isn’t something I get much of, or when I do, it doesn't last long once people meet Jerica. Then they’re freaked out and never call me back. So, romance novels are where I get most of my action from. 

Not long later, the sound of Lenora's oversized keychain (complete with bells) rattles against the front door. She comes in, her smiling mellow self as usual. I ask her how her day was and she sets her bag on the kitchen counter before joining me on the couch. Pleasant conversation ensues for a few minutes, I think she genuinely wants to be my friend, before I ask her about the dishes.

She tries to tell me they're not all hers, and I say that’s ridiculous because I always rinse and put my dishes away directly after use. After a bit more discussion, she agrees she will be better about not letting the dishes ‘soak’ for so long before washing. I mean, flies were in the kitchen this last time for goodness sake! I'm content enough with her promise. Lenora gets up to go weed the garden beds in the backyard before the sun goes down. As she does, a question crosses my mind.

“Have you met Jerica yet?” I ask Lenora.

She pauses by the edge of the couch and turns back to me. “Yes, I have.”

I stare at her for a moment, expecting her to add something more, but she doesn't. Only a faint smile.

“Okay” I respond. “Just curious.”

“All good Sal” Lenora says with a final exaggerated smirk and heads to the sliding glass door.

Lenora peels off her sandals that are barely an excuse for a shoe, before heading barefoot out into the backyard. Her beaded dark brown hair sways and rattles in the early spring breeze.

I had been wanting to ask her about Jerica, because I have what’s known as classic DID. My other personality takes over involuntarily, and I suffer from amnesia whenever Jerica is in control. I often have no idea what she does or where she goes. I just switch back to being me, Sally, and I’m somewhere different than I last remember being. It’s very disorientating and I haven’t quite figured out how to control it. There doesn’t seem to be any triggers that make me switch to Jerica, except mainly time of day. It tends to happen late at night or early in the morning. I, Sally, usually just wake up in my bed oblivious to what Jerica did the night before. It's not the best way to start the day, but I’ve learned to deal with it.

Putting those thoughts aside, I turn back to my novel. An hour or so later Lenora comes back inside, skin glowing from the afternoon sun. There’s dirt all over her hands (she doesn't wear gloves when gardening or doing dishes) and her feet are dirty and grass stained. She makes a cup of herbal tea and heads back to her room leaving dirty footprints in her wake.

‘Beggars can’t be choosers’ I remind myself, and decide to make a cup of tea as well.

For the next month or so, the sink basin stays relatively free of dishes. Lenora and I spent more time together, playing games when we’re both home from work. She brings boys over sometimes, but I don't mind. I even tried smoking weed with her one time. I was starting to think she was going to stick around for a long time. She’d already lasted longer than the others.

Soon though, the sink basin started to return to its previous state of being a ‘soaking basin’. It was slow at first, a mug or a bowl every so often that I’d wash and put away. But it wasn't more than two months later when disassociated cornflakes and flies were a regular spectacle around the sink. I took care of it a few times, and talked to Lenora about it a few more times, but nothing changed.

One night, I came home and the sink was literally spilling over onto the floor. DIshes were piled higher than the top of the sink, and there was water on the ground. In absolute frustration I snapped on my yellow gloves and started cleaning up the mess on the floor. I was doing my best to stay calm when I heard the rattles of the keys and bells against the door.

I awoke the next morning with no recollection of the rest of the evening. But in an instant, I knew. 

‘Jerica’.

I dashed out of bed into the kitchen to find that a few dishes had been smashed, maybe even thrown, and shards were scattered throughout the front of the house. I bent down to start cleaning them up, when I thought of Lenora. I snuck back into her corner of the house, and listened trying to hear her snoring. When I didn't hear anything, I cracked her bedroom door. The room was empty, bed made, and the majority of her belongings were gone. 

Another one, gone. Just like the others. Jerica always ruined everything.

I spent the rest of the day cleaning up the mess Jerica had made, and washing the sheets in Lenora's old room. I tried calling and texting her, but she never responded. By the end of the day, I had fished the ‘room for rent’ sign out of the garage and put it back up in the front yard. 

Over the next month, a few people stopped by asking about the room. I gave them my typical spiel, showed them the room, the common areas, and the backyard if they hadn't already made an excuse to leave. One younger man (James I believe) the other day commented how good the garden was. I told him the garden wasn't my doing, but the old tenants. He was surprised that it looked so good when I told him I wasn't even tending it, just letting it grow. After he left (he didn't take an application form), I went to the sink and did my evening dishes as usual, scraping dirt out from underneath my fingernails as I did so.

A few days later another man stopped by, saying he had spoken to someone else about the room a few days ago. I said that’s impossible, it's only me here after all. He pulled out a filled in application form and proceeded to tell me had talked to a young woman with dark brown hair, with beads in it, ‘kinda like a hippy chick’ he said. 

It sounded like he was describing Lenora. How could that be possible?

I stepped out into the porch landing to shoo the crazy man away, when the cold of concrete bit into my bare feet. Bare feet? 

I looked down to see my own feet were bare besides the dirt and grass stains on them. ‘How in the?’ That's the last thing I remember before Jerica slammed the door in the strangers face.

___________________________________________

“Idiot girl” Jerica bit out under her breath.  “Lenora is the most stupid of us” she muttered storming through the house. “She’ll give the rest of them away.”

Jerica did not have Sally’s amnesia problem. Jerica saw all that they did, even if she couldn't control everything they did. Lenora, the most recent addition, was far too friendly with strangers. She also liked to take control of them more and more often as her silly little ‘garden’ always needed tending. The stupid girl couldn’t even wash her hands properly. 

Now in the master bedroom, her parents' room, Jerica threw open the closet door. Pushing aside clothes and a curtain that obscured the true depth of the walk-in closet. Jerica entered the closet, ripping Sally's wig off of her head. Jerica preferred to be bald.

‘Sally is lucky I was able to seize control when I did’ Jerica thought as she placed Sally's blonde wig on its stand alongside all the others. ‘Otherwise her delusion might have gotten hurt.’ 

Sally doesn't know the others. She only knows about Jerica. Jerica has been protecting her for the past 6 years.

Standing back, Jerica shakes her head at the wall of 8 wigs. Sally, Cathlene, David, Marshall, Sarah, Rachel, Daniel, and Lenora. Jerica is the one who keeps them all together. Jerica makes sure they are all getting along. Jerica protects Sally. But this was getting to be too much. She turns and replaces the curtain and clothes, before closing the closet door and exiting the room.

Back in the kitchen now, Jerica slides the fridge away from the wall. It smoothly glides on the tracks she installed herself, revealing a small door. She opens the small door which leads to the basement. Flicking on the light reveals 5 shaven headed figures, chained against the walls. Jerica circles the room, collecting their plates and coffee mugs before ascending the stairs and stacking them in the kitchen sink. They can soak for a while.