Clint Eastwood’s Laundry Service

Getting back to Taisa’s apartment, she went straight to the bathroom, pack of toilet paper under her arm. Xander initially assumed that it was an emergency, so he patiently loitered around the living room waiting for her to come out. At first, he thought it was a bit weird to hear the bath water running, but again, paid no mind to it. But after 20 minutes, he was starting to wonder. Pressing his ear against the bathroom door he noticed that the water had stopped, but didn’t detect any motion.

‘Should I knock? Crack open the door? No, that would be in poor taste. But what if she fell asleep? What if she drowns? Now that would be stupid, but I heard of it happening.’

“Are you having a bath?” he yelled from his side of the door.

A splash was heard, then followed by a drowsy response, “Yep.”

“Right now?!” It wasn’t his place to comment on other people’s courteousness, since he was quite brash himself, but he was sure this is not how you treat a guest. He theorized she was either too indifferent or too familiar with him.

“Yes. I really needed one.” Her answer had been truthful. After her whole ordeal with Lorelai, she felt thick layers of guilt settling over her, constricting her like a straightjacket. This unwanted pressure elicited an ardent cleaning impulse, to wash off the self-loathing she desperately wanted to keep off her. In such moments, she took the impulse quite literally by staying submerged in a bath of scalding water.

‘Would it have been that bad to give in and start over with Lori? I did with Vic… though, at least he apologized. I don’t think she ever said sorry, for anything. Do I want to get myself in the same pattern again - Lori lacking self-awareness and me just forgiving her perpetually because I feel sorry for her? It’s not like it would’ve cost me that much to just go out at lunch or something. Aaargh, I hate doubting myself. Things would be so much easier if I just hated her. And then there’s Xander…’

Sliding back, she dunked her head under the water, splashing around loudly. She let the air bubbles escape through her nose, drowning the guilt that was drowning her. When the last of her oxygen reserve was depleted, she reemerged just as noisily.

“Are you ok in there?” came Xander’s muffled voice.

“Fine. Just…tired.”

He rested the back of his head against the door. “Just get some sleep. You don’t have any exams or projects to worry about now.”

“It’s more than just physical.” She intently watched her toes dipping in and out of the edge of the water. “It’s a tiredness that transcends the physical. I can feel my neurons wailing in pain.”

“I thought neurons were the ones that create the sensation of pain in the brain.”

“Not the best time to pick apart my metaphors.”

“Sorry. What would help?”

She waded her hands and looked at her fingers, “Another 15 minutes of intense pruning.”

“Fine. I’m going to have a smoke.” It was a bit weird having a conversation through a closed door while the other was having a bath. And the nicotine withdrawal was making him antsy. Might as well smoke.

Xander pushed himself off the door and headed towards the small balcony that was facing the living room couch. The already compact balcony was cramped by a laundry rack full of clothes. Xander usually paced a lot when he smoked; it was a way to put his jumbling thoughts in order, like his own brand of walking meditation or a motion-dependent tetris game of conceptualization. He slid the door open, feeling a camisole to test if it had dried properly. Xander also smoked while preoccupied with a manual task.

Taisa emerged from the bathroom all clad in fluffy white terrycloth, her robe tied securely and her hair wrapped in a towel. She plopped herself down on the couch, getting a full view of the man that had recently occupied her time and thoughts. Without her realizing, a warm smile etched itself on her face.

Xander was neatly folding her laundry, cigarette planted firmly in the corner of his mouth. She blushed and giggled at the sight of the stoic 6-foot 4 businessman folding her underwear and pajamas. As he placed another neat square in the laundry basket, he turned slightly to view the source of the giggle, looking squinty-eyed due to the wind blowing smoke in his face. She thought that at that moment he looked a bit like Clint Eastwood – while doing laundry.

‘What?’ he mouthed beyond the glass door. Adoration suddenly swept all over her. She shook her head and got even more comfy to enjoy the show, tucking her legs underneath her and propping her elbow against the armrest.

Once he was done with his folding, he flicked his cigarette butt over the balcony, picked up the laundry basket and returned to the living area.

“You could’ve used a cup or something.”

“I would’ve ruined your cup.”

“What a domestic goddess you are. And environmentally friendly.” He left the basket on an armchair and went to sit next to her.

“Flattery will get you nowhere with me.” She could still smell the smoke on him.

“Oh, then what will?” He could feel the warmth from her bath-heated body slowly enveloping him, the fresh and beachy smell of her shampoo enticing him to get closer.

“Great investment tips.” Unconsciously mimicking him, she shifted closer and held his gaze.

“Get in the laundry business.” What was at first a mocking gesture soon turned into a full-blown gape in which she took in all the dark blue and gray shades of his irises.

His insides twisted, but he laid aside the pleasant shudder to focus on the underlying melancholy of her stare.

“Why do you always put up with people the way you do?”

Caught off guard at the sudden change of topic, she schooled her expression to be as neutral as possible. “I just do. Why?”

“It tires you.”

“So? Life, in general, is tiring.”

“I don’t understand you sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?” She tried a bit of lightheartedness.

“Most of the time.” A ghost of a smirk was the reward for her attempt.

“I can’t change the way I react to things and people. It’s far too embedded in me at this point in my life.” The smell of tobacco was faint now and she could identify the traces of what she thought was aftershave.

“People can change any time they wish to.” His eyes darted from one delicate facial feature to the next.

“If that were true, I’d change myself into an entirely different person. One that was 100% normal.”

“I wasn’t recommending that much change.” Xander dropped his head even lower, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her face.

“No?” She asked in a breathless whisper.

He shook his head with minimal movements, as he was unable to utter any words due to a crushing lump in his throat. All he could do at that moment was give in to the magnetic force that pulled him nearer to her face.

Noses barely brushing against each other, he watched her through half-lidded eyes as she slowly closed her own. A loud banging ended their painstakingly-earned proximity, both parties quickly withdrawing from each other as if burned.

“Man, is it raining outside!” said a tall blonde as she shook her umbrella.

Taisa craned her neck to get a look at her flatmate. “Hey, Ronnie.”

Stepping into the living room, Ronnie took notice of Xander’s presence. “Hey, Tai. Sorry, I didn't know you had company. I’m Ronnie, by the way,” She waved slightly in his direction.

“Xander. It’s fine. I was just leaving anyway.” He got up and proceeded to put on his coat, Taisa following his every movement. “I’ll see you later,” were his parting words before closing the door.

“Yeah, later,” mumbled Taisa absentmindedly.

Feeling like she walked into something private, Ronnie decided to change the subject to more mundane things.

“Oh, you brought in the laundry. Good thing you noticed those rain clouds coming in.”

Looking forlornly at the basket full of neatly folded fabrics, she released a dejected sigh, “Yeah, good thing I did.”