ALL THAT WAS LEFT BEHIND

Crimson Roses and White Queen Anns

“Here’s another black one,” I said, tossing the sock over towards Terrance.

            “Black socks, they never get dirty, the longer you wear ‘em the stronger they get,” he muttered with a wicked grin.

            “Don’t start. You know how I feel about that song,” I warned.

            Terrance only chuckled, then gazed at the odd socks scattered around the living room floor. Matching them all up was our attempt at thanking Sherry for everything she’s been doing the past little while, and to hopefully ease some of her burning stress. Well, I was the one who wanted to do it; Terrance was only helping to bother me, for he thought that Sherry didn’t deserve the extra help.

             “There are too many black ones! They all look exactly the same, so how am I supposed to find the right match?” he asked exasperated.

            “You’ll figure it out. Besides, most of them are your socks, so it’s your fault,”

            “What? It’s not my fault that the dryer eats my socks!” Terrance cried.

            I scoffed, and noticed a match of my own socks in the pile. It surprised me how many of my favourite gym socks went missing here.

            “Oh, what’s that you got there? I'm pretty sure I don’t wear pink socks, and I don’t think mom does either! I wonder whose they are then?” he wondered mockingly.

             I didn’t even bother answering him, as the teasing would only continue for the rest of the night. I also didn’t feel like talking and joking around much any more.

            Eventually Terrance’s complaints got to me, and I decided that we matched enough socks for the day. I put the remaining socks back into the basket and handed it to Terrance for storing it in the basement, then sorted our successful matches into three piles for the three owners of the socks.

            “Now what?” Terrance asked once he emerged from the basement.

            “Dishes?” I offered.

            He grunted, but followed my lead into the kitchen.

            As I poured the slimy liquid dish soap into the sink, Terrance plugged in the radio on the counter. It took him awhile to locate his preferred radio station, but once he did, he cranked it and joined me at the sink.

            The soapy water was warm and comforting, except for near the bottom of the sink where small chunks of left over food floated like a school of disgusting fish. I cringed every time my fingers brushed against a piece, and I couldn’t help but think of what the remains used to be.

            A slash of water found its way to Sherry’s shirt I was wearing. I found myself wearing a lot of her clothes now that I was temporarily staying with them. I sighed and rubbed the mark the water created with the back of my arm.

            I snuck a look at Terrance’s face, which was clouded over with a dismal seriousness he only wore when doing undesired actions.

            I was bored too, and desperately wished to hear the front door open to allow Sherry inside. Once she witnessed us performing these deeds, there would be no doubt that she would laugh in appreciation and take over.

            In due course, my prediction was proved accurate, and Sherry bustled around the kitchen, happy to finish up the chores for us.