'Til I Reach You by Lorissa Padilla

Author:Lorissa Padilla [Padilla, Lorissa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-03-12T00:00:00+00:00

THIRTY-FOUR

THEN, WINTER, FOUR YEARS AGO

“We’ve been having this conversation for over a year, Hayden,” I yell.

“And I still don’t understand what the big deal is,” he argues.

We don’t argue too much, but when we do it’s usually about stupid things.

“The hamper is right there. It’s right there,” I yell, gesturing to the white laundry basket against the bedroom wall. “Why are your socks on the floor next to it?”

“I just missed,” he says loudly, arms splayed out dramatically.

“Then you bend your long ass self down, and you pick them up,” I yell. “Que vago y frustante eres!” How lazy and frustrating you are!

“Okay, that seems a bit harsh,” he says, his annoyed voice is still somehow laced in amusement. It pisses me off.

I scowl at him, bending down to pick the socks up and throw them in his face. He tries to hide his smile. I know he thinks it’s funny and cute when I get mad like this, and he always tells me that he finds me even cuter than normal when I’m all riled up. But that knowledge makes me even angrier at this moment.

“You know what, it’s beyond lazy and frustrating,” I say walking out of my bedroom that he has slowly started moving into for months. “It's intentional carelessness.”

“Oh, come on, babe.” He sighs. “This is silly.”

“Yeah, it is silly. And completely avoidable.” I turn to face him. “It’s stupid, you leave your socks and underwear next to the hamper instead of just putting them inside where they belong. But this is an argument that we have all the time. So the fact that nothing changes tells me that you don’t give a shit about what I am asking for and what I’m upset over.”

“That’s not true,” he argues.

“How is it not true?” I say loudly. “It takes little to no effort to just put the laundry where it’s supposed to go. You just don’t care enough to do it.”

“I do the laundry also,” he says, hands going to his hips.

“Did I ever say that you don’t?” I exclaim, my arms going wide. “Don’t change the subject or try to justify something irrelevant. I didn’t say that you don’t help with the laundry, I’m frustrated that you are content to do a half-ass job at something I’ve asked you repeatedly, nicely, agonizingly, to do.”

He looks up at the ceiling and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He hangs his head, “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to hear that you’re sorry. You’re always sorry,” I yell again, “But sorry doesn’t mean a damn thing if nothing changes.”

His head starts nodding, as he keeps looking at the ground. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.” He looks up at me then. His eyes are full of apology and sincerity, no amusement or teasing to be seen. “You’re right and I’m truly sorry. I will be more intentional. With my laundry, with the…stuff I leave around the apartment. With what I say I’m going to do.”

I stare at him. Part

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