Laleh and Laundry

The raindrops hit the kitchen windows like bullets, frightening Laleh every time they did. But again, it wasn't the weather's fault. No. Laleh should have known better than to do her laundry at two am on a Friday night.

Wishing she was deaf, she pressed her lips hard enough to draw blood. The pastel yellow basket full of dirty clothes lay in front of her, watching her with bleak eyes, waiting and waiting. The plethora of different coloured fabric mocked silently, whispering softly how Laleh simply didn't have the determination to do laundry without breaking down. She should just go to bed.

Of course, the clothes were correct. 

She couldn't afford to do normal things right now. She should be in bed, eating tubs after tubs of ice cream because boy, oh boy, did Laleh not wear heartbreak well. She dressed in the oldest, filthiest and unlaundered pyjamas in her closet and made journeys to the washing machine to wash as many, old or new, worn or not worn clothes in the middle of the night.

And here she was, sniffing and blinking rapidly in hopes that her eyes would dry themselves out before she'd realise she was crying and break into sobs which would do the opposite of alleviating the situation.

Hence the reason why she shoved all of her clothes into the washing machine without looking at them. The colours were all mixed, and Laleh couldn't care less about the consequence of her carelessness. If she found her recently-bought purple skirt to be yellow, then that was the repercussion she had to face alone. Besides, she probably deserved such a thing to happen for ruining what she had with Zach.

Zach. Zach. Zach. Zach.

Now that sniffing didn't work, Laleh raised her arm towards her face so she could wipe her nose on the sleeve. She realised that it was going to be a long time before the machine was done spinning the clothes around, and not having the energy to go back upstairs, Laleh raised herself to sit on the table. Her mind repeated Zach's name if it were a mantra. And it did so in capital letters, lowercase letters, in bold and italic ones; and the worst of all, in parentheses. 

Something sounded in her ears. Maybe it was the rain. Maybe it was the thunder roaring somewhere far off. Or maybe it was just her stomach. Being tucked in bed, watching a show and eating ice cream certainly looked enticing now.

But now that she was here, she couldn't go back. After all, the working washing machine needed the company of a heartbroken girl and vice versa.

For a while, time refused to fly. It had paralysed itself and had dragged Laleh with it. However, when it did begin to flow naturally, it brought memories. It only made sense if Laleh was to ponder upon the beautiful thing she had ended this very afternoon. 

It was a sunny afternoon, and it was funny, Laleh noticed in hindsight, how the weather had changed so quickly. As if it was mourning with her. Unlike how dark and dreary it was right now, it was clear and blue at two pm. The kind of boring blue on an exhilarating summer day.

This afternoon, Laleh had met up with Zach in his favourite café and had broken up with him. The reason was primitive; her father didn't approve of him, or rather his ethnicity.

 An Arab man's Arab daughter could never marry an Italian man. 

Annie cursed at herself. Her parents weren't even in England; did she really have to break up with Zack now? Right when they were about to graduate from university and be somebodies? Laleh wished her parents had lived in England instead of just sending her here. Maybe then she would have never thought about even conversating with Zach.

To be fair, it was Zach who had first struck up a conversation with her. She was in the gigantic library, lost and too polite to bother the busy librarian. Thus she had resolved to ask a student how the library worked.

After tapping on Zach's shoulder and before uttering out her question, Zach had said she had beautiful eyes. Black. He couldn't immediately compare them to anything -not the blue ocean or a grey storm. But he had said they were beautiful.

Later, when Laleh was bent down over reading about aneurysms, Zach had come to sit next to her. He talked about stem cells shortly before inviting her to coffee the next. He also, lamely, said that her eyes were a black hole, pulling him in with no chances of letting go.

Sure, Laleh thought Zach was a bit shameless. But could you really blame her? She had never been complimented or approached like this before. However, she was proven wrong when they actually did spend more time together. Zach was a gentleman. He was smart and he loved literature. He was the most tech-savvy person she had met. Best of all, he never made her feel any less smart when she didn't carry on with his statements.

A large beep uprooted Laleh out of her reverie. It was the electricity switching off. The kitchen was now dark and the washing machine off. Lightning lit up her window for a second.

Getting off of the table, she reached for the clothes that were wet and yet to be dried. Blindly, she loaded them into the basket again and carried the laden basket towards the window, where it wasn't as dark.

Her nostrils smelt soap, soap and soap. Perhaps a little of fabric softener too. It was nice. Fresh and jubilant, something Laleh desired to feel like.

A black flannel at the top of the clothes pile caught Laleh's attention, and she immediately grabbed it, trying to remember when was it that Zach had left this at her home.

It was last Tuesday, when it was raining, and he had come to her house to binge watch The Big Bang Theory, uninvited, of course. Since his flannel was wet and of no use, he had gotten rid of it instantly. 

As pitiful as Laleh felt, she wore the flannel and sat down on the table again. It was a good hour of staring out the window before Laleh finally realised what had to be done. Hopefully, her father would see how love worked.