Enclosed part 10 (short story)

"Can I use your bathroom?" I asked reluctantly, almost yawning in the middle of the five word sentence. I was on my eleventh house, and I exhausted. If only the driveways on Mitch's street were normal instead of huge hills and never ending dirt paths with creepy trees. As I had walked down the third dirt pathway with the creepiest trees yet, Mitch had walked with me. I jumped as a bat came out of one of the trees and Mitch, laughing, took my hand and pulled me into him, giving me a noogie and shoving his baseball cap on my head. I broke out into a fit of giggles and my stomach twisted out of control, my temperature soaring despite the cold breeze biting through my thin sweater to my skin. As I walked away from the house, (I had been declined use of the bathroom,) I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself. Mitch took his jacket off and offered it to me. I looked at it, then back at him, and scrunched my nose. "Ok, sweet gesture, but first of all, that thing is puny and would make no difference whatsoever in my body temperature, and second of all, it's probably covered in gross boy sweat." Mitch shook his head, putting his jacket back on, and pushed me in front of him. He chuckled and I smiled as we walked to the next house.

"Last house," Mitch informed me. "Finally," I replied. He punched me playfully in the arm, "You're a wimp."

"I am not!"

"Are too."

"I just walked up and down thirteen driveways, 'used' nine different bathrooms of complete strangers who could've been murderers or worse-"

"Worse?"

"-and dealt with your annoying little comments along the way." Mitch laughed, "You're right. You are such a beast."

"Thank you."

"Mhm. Now go finish what you started."

"I hate you," I muttered under my breath.

"I realize," he replied with a smirk. I groaned and walked up a (finally) short driveway to a modest little house with a front porch that had a bench swing and a light pink rocking chair. Who's grandma lives here, I wonder? The door opened and I almost did a double-take. A twenty-something, (early twenties, I can tell you that much,) dark blonde with flannel sunflower pajamas and a baby wrapped in a teddy bear-print blanket opened the door, smiling tiredly. "Can I help you?" she asked in a sweet, milky voice. Almost like someone had taken a Hershey's bar, transformed it into a sound, and put it into her larynx. I gulped. For some reason, out of all the weirdos who had opened their doors on this street, (and one person who didn't,) taking something from the bathroom of this woman scared me the most. I felt like even stepping into her house would be a horrible thing to do. She looked like one of those moms who spends all their hours baking for their kids and yet somehow managed to pay the bills without the help of a husband. "Hi. I'm-I'm...my name's Jamie." the woman looked slightly confused, (who wouldn't when a random stranger was standing on your porch in the middle of the night introducing themself?) but she replied, "Hello, Jamie. I'm Beverly. And this is my daughter, Sonia." I smiled at the adorable little baby. She had black, straight hair on her tiny newborn head and big blue eyes that stared at me, wide-eyed and mystified. "She's beautiful," I replied, because she was. Beverly smiled, "Thank you. Is there something I can help you with?" I snapped back into reality, tearing my eyes away from the gorgeous little child and looking instead at the tired-but-beautiful mother who cradled her for dear life. "Can I use your bathroom?" I asked. She laughed slightly and opened the door, "Sure, of course you can. Come right on in."

"Where's your husband?" I asked as she let me into her house, leading me to the bathroom. I immediately regretted it. How did I know she had a husband? How did I know she hadn't had a divorce, or never have been married at all? I felt like slapping myself. Beverly's eyes got sad, "He passed away a few months ago, just before Sonia was born. He was a soldier, and he was shot in the chest." I gasped, "Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry!" She smiled sadly, "It's alright. I knew when I married him that something like this might happen. I just..." she looked down, "didn't expect it to happen...so soon." I felt like grabbing her into a tight hug and trying to comfort her, but right then she suddenly turned and said, "Here it is. You can let yourself out when you're done. Just make sure you lock the door behind you." She smiled at me, sniffled slightly, and walked away. I turned to the small little bathroom. It had white walls with little pink flowers and a soft pink rug. The bathtub had a bucket of bath toys in it and I smiled as I breathed in the smell of cinnamon. I looked down at the toilet paper and saw that it was pink, too, with little flowers printed on it. I'll admit, normally I might have been kind of disgusted by this early-twenties single mother living alone in a grandma house with pink toilet paper and a rocking chair on the front porch that looked a hundred years old, but everything about Beverly made me feel affectionate toward her, as if she were my grandmother. (Aunt would make more sense, seeing as she wasn't much older than me, but I'm talking hypothetically here.) I couldn't help it. I reached down and ripped off a square of the toilet paper and then left the sweet little house, not even bothering to flush the toilet and pretend to wash my hands.

© 2010