Clean Sheets

Her clumsiness made her noticeable. Her laughter made her enduring. But the way she hung out her clean laundry made her sexy.

He liked to read on his porch. Listening to his music, he looked over his books as she hung up her sheets.

She spied him over the bleached sheets. Tapping her foot to his tunes, she wondered if he could dance.

She tripped over her basket almost every time. She would laugh privately to herself as she shook her head in disbelief, grabbing the next item to be strung up on the line.

His books were his disguise. He looked like he had been reading when in fact, he spun the tunes just for her.

Sometimes, disappearing behind the sheets offered her a hiding place to cry. It had been just like the times she hid in the kitchen pantry. No one would ever think to look there. As far as they were concerned, she belonged in the pantry or hidden in the side yard with baskets full of wet laundry.

He could see the shimmer of her tears as the afternoon sun swept over her cheeks. Their homes were close enough he sometimes saw her in her kitchen pantry crying while he stood helpless over his sink and the water rinsed down the drain.

Twenty years of forgotten birthdays, Valentines, and anniversaries left her with self-doubt. The let-down of Christmas morning with nothing special under the tree had gifted her an overwhelming feeling she had been damaged goods.

He knew why she cried. In the two decades she lived next door, he never saw flowers ascend the front steps. Empty boxes tossed out the day after Christmas had always been for bright and shiny plastic toys. She dressed up almost every day. He only saw her leaving the house to go to the grocery store, orthodontics with the kids and school activities on a Wednesday or Friday night.

He often thought to himself, a woman like her should be taken out on the town and shown off.  Not hidden behind the sheets on the line.

She would love to get dressed up with an adult place to go.

His music varied from cool jazz to fresh folk and a dash of sixties rock. He never played it too loud.

She only cried for so long after the music started to play. She would hide behind the laundry taking her time hanging up wet clothes so she could at least tap her feet and sway away the hurt.

He knew what music she liked. He knew what song made her tears stop falling and made her feet find the beat. He especially loved to see her quietly dance through the sheets. How he wished to be right there next to her. Whispering secrets of love in her soft ear. Words which she deserved. He longed to be together, hidden behind the sheets.

She knew it had been wrong to pine over the older man who played music from his porch. Perhaps one day she would find the courage to climb his steps. But in the mean time she would live with the hope someday he would climb down and find her hidden behind the clean sheets.