Say What?

"In all honesty, you don’t know how pissed I thought you were at me, Maggie." Taylor commented after a few moments of silence.

"I’m sorry. I just forgot to call you, Sweetie." I glanced over at him, before turning my eyes back to the road. That’s generally a good thing to do while driving.

"For six days?" I noted the wariness in his voice, so I smiled apologetically.

"Actually, I was a little pissed at first." I admitted. "Then I was busy with, unfortunately, our movie assignment for theatre. Then I forgot to call."

"You made a movie?" He asked with surprise.

"Yep," I nodded with pride.

"So when can I see it?"

"Oh.." My smile dissolved. "You.. you really don’t want to see it."

"Well now I do." Taylor chuckled. "What’s it about?"

"It’s just a ten-minute movie that had to be dramatic." I explained, hoping it sounded dull enough that he’d drop the subject. "I’ll… uh, show it to you when we get it back."

"My Maggie, the little drama queen." I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye at his sarcasm.

"Careful or I’ll throw my retainer at you." While it sounded witty on the surface, Taylor immediately dissolved my attack with his quick retort of,

"You don’t own a retainer."

"Damn.." My shoulders bounced as I laughed. "Got me on that one."

"Nice try." He sighed. "So.. you really were pissed at me?"

"Taylor!" I groaned. "I thought we were done talking about that. You’re beating a dead horse.. with celery sticks at this point. Of course I got pissed. You told me to quit my job for no good reason."

"There was a reason.." He murmured softly.

"Care to tell me what it is? I can’t hang up on you, even accidentally, in person."

"Accident, sure." Taylor replied. "You could ‘accidentally’ throw me out of the car though."

"True, I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks." I smiled. "Now spill it."

"Maggie," he started, absently running his fingers through his hair. "I’ve, umm.. seen the place you work at."

"Several times," I replied slowly. "You make it sound like I work at a bordello or something."

"Given the attitudes of the guys around there, I’m not surprised." He muttered under his breath. I still heard him, so I immediately pulled my car into the nearest parking lot. Fortunately, it was our end destination. After setting the gear in park, with my fingers gripping the wheel tightly, I turned and faced him.

"Ok, Taylor.. let’s have it." Narrowing my eyes, I added, "the whole opinion."

"I’m sorry Maggie, but I.. just don’t like the idea of you.. " He paused and searched for the right words but came up with Ike's instead. ".. wearing skin-tight clothing, stretching and bouncing all over in front of a group of sweaty, studly, muscle-clenching, me-so-horny guys."

"I’m just not comfortable with that." He added tightly. I just stared at him, unsure of whether I was going to scream multiple profanities at the top of my lungs at him for that comment or dissolve into giggles over his corny choice of words.

"Where is this coming from?" I asked him quietly.

"I never thought about it until recently, but do you really want to be an.. aerobics instructor for the rest of your life?"

"Of course!" I snapped coldly. "That’s exactly why I’m using the money to put myself through college. To end up a fifty year-old aerobics instructor."

"Geez, don’t overreact or anything." Taylor rolled his eyes.

"I am not overreacting." I replied through gritted teeth.

"Maggie.." he softened his voice. "Please don’t get upset."

"How can I not?" I asked, feeling tears prickling the corners of my eyes.

Fifteen minutes ago we’d been fine – what happened?

"Maggie," He repeated, taking my hands in his and squeezing them gently. "I love you. I just want you to be happy, but I felt I needed to be honest with you."

"Taylor," I took a deep breath to calm myself. "While I appreciate that, you need to understand that I’ve worked there for almost four years. It pays well and I can’t imagine it not being a part of my life. What am I supposed to do?"

"You don’t have to quit entirely." He assured me.

"Then what?" I demanded, releasing his hands and feeling my stress levels rising again. "Sit on my ass all day answering the front desk phone? I don’t think so. Not because you’re uncomfortable about it."

"You just don’t see it." Taylor replied calmly. So calmly, in fact, that it made me feel more uptight.

"I know what guys think when they see a beautiful woman wearing tight clothes and I don’t want them thinking that about you."

"Sweetie, that’s the thing: they’re just thoughts. I-" I stopped for a moment, letting his words sink in. "You.. think I’m beautiful?"

"Of course." He flashed me a shy smile. "And you deserve more than having perverts gawk at you all day. You don’t see it because you’ve been there so long – you’re used to it, I mean, so it doesn’t affect you."

"Are you suggesting that I’m desensitized to harassment?" My mouth hung open with shock.

"God, no." He sighed loudly. "Relax."

"Then what exactly are you suggesting?" I crossed my arms over my chest and frowned.

"Maggie, I just- Oh.. Nevermind." Taylor shook his head. "I know when I’m fighting a losing battle."

"You were never released from the barracks, soldier." I warned him.

"Exactly my point." He replied. "I’m shutting up now before you kill me or something.""

"In the Econ-O-Wash parking lot?" I asked. "I’d never get the bloodstains out of my laundry. Which reminds me: we’ve been sitting here like retards for about ten minutes arguing in my car."

"You sure know how to plan dates, Babe." Taylor laughed as he opened the car door and climbed out.

"Hey," I followed suit, grabbing a laundry bag from the back seat and yanking it out of the car with me. Unfortunately, laundry is a task I particularly despise, so I’d decided that part of Taylor’s ‘punishment’ would be to endure an afternoon of my unpleasantness doing it. Let’s just call it a "misery loves company" mode of attack.

"Just hold this." I tossed the garbage bag of laundry over the roof of my car to him. Since I avoid doing laundry at all costs, by the time I do actually get around to doing it, it's evolved into a full-afternoon chore. In other words: the bag I’d thrown to Taylor was stretched full, bulging with weight as he caught it and struggled to stay on his feet.

"How much clothes do you wear, Babe?" He asked incredulously, setting the bag on the ground.

"Hey, with my line of work, I go through twice as many sets of clothes as normal people do."

"I’m beginning to think that you don’t do any of the things that normal people do, Maggie."

"Ha ha. Notice me not laughing." I gave him a look of warning as I grabbed another bag from the back seat and slammed the car door shut.

"You seriously need to remove that stick from your ass, Babe."

"Stick up my ass, eh?" Cocking my head and squinting in the bright afternoon sun, I walked to the back of my car and popped open the trunk. Catching Taylor’s dazzling, "I’m-so-cute-don’t-be-mad" grin, I motioned with my index finger for him to join me. As he did, I flipped up the trunk and revealed three more awkward, bulging garbage bags stuffed in there.

"You’ve gotta be kidding." As Taylor slowly lifted his wide eyes from the bags to mine, I raised my eyebrows and smiled widely.

"Absolutely not.. Sweetie." Revenge never tasted sweeter.

"Ok, that’s the last of it." Taylor gasped for air, flopping the last bag of laundry onto a counter inside the laundry mat. While the counter was a good twenty feet long, my laundry took up more than half it’s space just sitting there in six bags.

"See you in two hours, Babe." He leaned forward to kiss me goodbye.

"Oh no," I warned him, placing my hand over his approaching face. "You’re not getting off that easy. Start sorting."

"I am not doing your laundry for you." Taylor gave me a priceless dirty look. I smiled sweetly in response.

"Of course not. But you’re going to help. Now start sorting out the bags while I go buy some detergent."

With a smug grin at the unrepeatable words that flowed from Taylor’s lips, I spun around and searched for a coin machine. Given it’s name, I wasn’t surprised that the Econ-O-Wash wasn’t the classiest joint in town – it’s faded yellow and brown tiled floors reminded me of Nana’s 1970’s–style tupperware and it was coated with a strange sticky substance. I made a mental note not to drop any clothes on it. Fortunately, I quickly spotted the black detergent machine and headed for it.

"Oops.." I mumbled, reaching into my pocket and discovering I only had a five dollar bill, noting the ‘Quarters only’ sign across the machine. Glancing over my shoulder, my eyes focused on an unenthusiastic woman behind a table in the corner. Seeing no one around her, I assumed her to be the woman in charge.

"Excuse me, Ma’am." I approached her hesitantly. "Do you have change for a five?"

"What does this look like, a frickin’ bank?" She flipped down her Cosmo magazine to peer up at me through thick glasses. Wild, random curls escaped from the set of curlers on her head and I tried not to pass out from the perfume I guessed to be emanating from this woman.

"N-No," I stammered nervously. "I’m sorry, I thought you work here."

"I have change for a ten, that’s all." She huffed, sliding her feet from out of the table and shuffling over to a cash register. Frowning in confusion at her words, I pulled a ten out of my pocket and handed it over to her, attempting not to retract my fingers quickly at the sight of hideous liverspots across the back of her hand.

"Umm.. thanks." I muttered as she pummeled her fist into the register and slid open the drawer, then plunked a five dollar bill and a shitload of quarters into my palm. I stared curiously at the five, then decided it best not to ask so I nodded at her and quickly returned to my new best friend, the detergent machine. However, I would soon find that the friendship was one-sided.

"Let’s see.." I scanned the labels. "Cheer, All, Tide.. Sure, Tide works." I crunched my fingertips into the button. Nothing happened.

"Hmm.. Might help if I put a quarter in first." I noted, rolling my eyes at my own stupidity. I obliged and pushed the button again. And again, nothing.

"What the.." I pushed harder, feeling the tip of my thumb numb up from the presser.

"Just bang it a little." The woman from the corner croaked out loudly at me. I turned around and caught Taylor holding in his snickers as I tentatively raised my fist and thumped against the machine.

"Oww." That was an understatement. I rubbed my immediately sore knuckles.

"Not like that.." The woman sighed and stood up, shuffling toward me. "You have to thump it good."

"Thump it good?" I echoed her words.

"Yes." She surprised me by whirling her arm around and nearly rattling the machine off the wall. Six boxes of Tide immediately tumbled onto the floor near my feet. I turned to thank the woman, only to see her small frame shuffling back to her corner. Not wanting to debate about it with myself, I stooped to the floor and grabbed the detergent in my arms.

"Shut up." I immediately told Taylor when I returned to his side, dropping the boxes of Tide onto the counter.

"I’m not saying anything." He replied in a coy voice. It was about three seconds before he added,

"It helps to be smarter than the machine, that’s all."

"Didn’t I say shut up?" I glared at him.

This is going to be a long ass afternoon.

"You know, Maggie." Taylor spoke up suddenly. "You’d said to me that we were going to do laundry."

"Umm.. hello?" I waved my arm around to the laundry facility, the mountains of my clothes that were now removed from the garbage bags and piled in front of us. "We are."

"No.. you said laundry." He corrected me. "Not dispose of hazardous nuclear waste."

"It’s not nuclear waste!" I cried indignantly.

"I’ve never smelled worse." Taylor replied. "Not even our sweaty gym socks stored in the closet. Not even the garbage days after Ike would forget to put it on the curb so it got infested with maggots. Not even the day Zoe ate some bad strained carrots and got the worst case of-"

"Ok, I get the point!" I silenced his complaints. "And it’s not that bad."

"Not that bad?" He turned and stared at me. "Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you’d sorted it beforehand."

"That would take too long." I replied with a smile. "And make it too easy on you."

"Maggie, I’m not exactly comfortable touching your.. You know, personals." He lowered his voice.

"I’m willing to take that risk, Sweetie." I patted his arm and slid my butt onto the counter, taking a seat between piles and started forming a separate pile of towels.

"Hey, I’m serious here." He stopped in the pile of my sweaty gym shorts (Who said I hadn’t sorted ahead of time?) and looked at me. "I don’t want any cooties from your girlie panties."

"Sorry to disappoint you, Taylor Hanson, but I don’t own any ‘girlie panties.’ " I informed him with a laugh. "Plain, white and cotton does the job just fine."

"Oh really?" He grinned devilishly. "Then… what would you call these?"

"Umm.." I stared at the red lace thong Taylor had pulled from the bottom of a pile near him.

"Not so plain, white, and cotton anymore, are we?" He asked, dangling it in front of my face between his fingertips. My face nearly turned purple holding in my laughter.

"Taylor!!" I giggled uncontrollably. "Those aren’t mine!"

"What?" He instantly dropped the thong as if it were on fire. "Of course it’s yours. It was with your clothes."

"Sorry, it’s not."

"It was with your clothes. It has to be yours!" Oh, it was very entertaining to hear his voice rise.

"Must’ve been sitting there before we got here."

"You mean- I touched someone's- gross!!" Tears now streamed down my cheeks as he lurched away from the small pile of red lace now on the counter and repeatedly wiped his hands on the back of his jeans. He was making this a whole lot sweeter than I ever could’ve imagined.

"Geez, Taylor." I retorted. "Relax."