Bathroom Games

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Bathroom Games

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She was always warned and the fear of consequence kept her away, but now she's curious to know if this warning was a wise old tale to keep children scared, or was it a true cautionary tale?

"Never heard of it," Jeane said, pausing for a minute to form a circular motion with her lips, blowing hot air to create a bubble with her gum only to have it deflate seconds later, "and trust me, I've heard just about every urban legend in the book. Are you sure your mom wasn't just messing with you because she wanted you to leave her alone for a few minutes? Or maybe your mom felt like you didn't need her so she scared the ever living shit out of you so you would need her to check for monsters or some nonsense like that? Some parents are like that. Sadistic but with loving intentions." Small pieces of the watermelon flavored gum stuck to the corner of her lips. Slowly it peeled off of her skin and fell to the ground below us.

I thought about her assumptions and a part of me would dwell on it, but knowing my mom, she didn't seem like the type to ever want to scare me just so she could tuck me in at night. At that age when she told me, she was already still tucking me in and kissing my forehead wishing for a good night's sleep. "No, my mom isn't like that. She's about as superstitious as you. Maybe even more."

Jeane's look warped from a complete lack of emotion to showing real feelings that took offense to my statement. "There's a difference between superstitious and paranoia. Your mom teeters on the bridge of insanity, so who's to say she was even in a sane state of mind when she told you that?"

Rolling my eyes, I paid no mind to Jeane's harsh words knowing they only stemmed from jealousy that someone could be more interested into the occult and all things alike than her. And partially because she had a point, my mother was normal but swayed into the dangerous parts of her mind at times, not so rare, but definitely not a weekly occurrence. "She wasn't always that way, you remember her from when we were kids." My memories went to back to the days where I never saw my mother leave her head for a few minutes or few hours. If there was ever a vote back then over happiest individual, I was sure my mom would win by a landslide.

"We were too young to notice those kinds of things. It could be that she used to be better at hiding things from clueless kids, now that you're both older, she's too tired to hide it as well and you're more observant than a young child. I used to think my parents were happy, now look at them. Divorced and bitter. Well my mom isn't bitter, she ended up with most of the stuff anyways." She said with a hint of venom in her tone. Whenever Jeane would bring up her mom or anything closely related to her, her voice would become a low muttering grumble and eyebrows would narrow as if she were concentrating really hard.

"At least you have them both." I remarked. It came off more jealous than intended, but when it came to the topic of parents, I became envious, wishing I had more time with my dad. "Mom just couldn't cope with my dad being gone. Doesn't make her senile, just struggling to deal with the fact that he's gone."

"Shit Mira, I sound really selfish." Her eyebrows relaxed as she lifted up her head. The bitter look disappeared from her face and she took the gum out of her mouth and played with it between her fingers. Something she did when she was either nervous or attempting to avoid an awkward situation. The moment her dark blue eyes landed on mine, I felt like she was on her way to make a huge apology. Before I could stop her, her mouth opened and I prepared to hear a long speech, "Hey look, why don't I spend the night and we try it? Come on, it's the least I can do."

Left shocked and relieved by her response, I was happy she didn't bother to apologize for something that she seemed to do a lot, if she had to apologize for each time I would eventually get tired of hearing it. For a moment, I was confused to as what she was mentioning in the first place. "Um." My mouth cornered to one side as I itched into my forehead hoping to dig out the information on what she was talking about. Urban legend, my inner voice whispered into my head, almost ghostly sounding. Sometimes I swear I have the mind of guppy. "Right. We don't have to."

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