So much went out of place in the wake of Bertie’s visit. The filthy black clothing he’d worn formed a grimy heap on the bedroom floor. All the drawers stood open, contents draped over the front. Boxes from the top of the closet lay in haphazard stacks.
Emerald smiled and shook her head as she tucked the contents of the drawers back into place and retrieved the boxes.
“You silly thing,” she said. “I told you exactly where to get Albert’s spare clothes but you up and forgot the minute you went looking. You must have searched every inch of this place. Looks like you misplaced some of my jewelry…but I forgive you. You’re family.”
She saved until last the job of gathering Bertie’s cast-off clothing for the wash. She flapped the shirt straight and unfolded the knit cap, marveling at the eyeholes in the rolled up cuff.
“Young people,” she muttered, shaking out the pants. “They all claim to be expressing themselves but then they’ve got to dress alike. I don’t understand how that gets to be self expression. He must be one of those Goths like I saw on that talk show…all dressed alike. You couldn’t tell one from the other.”
Once upside down, the pants yielded a small folding knife, a packet full of powered coffee creamer, some capsules, and a money clip with a few grungy bills. Emmy dropped each item in her own pockets and then pulled out the black belt that held up the pants. She tossed the belt on the bed and then turned to the shoes. The black running shoes shed a handful of dried mud on the rug as she picked them up. “You’re going into the wash too,” Emmy announced.
The armload of clothing failed to fill up the washer, so Emmy added a pile from Bobbi’s hamper. The young woman seemed not to find enough time for her wash every day, whereas Emmy could manage a daily load after the lunch dishes and before her nap. She tried to do Bobbi the favor of clearing her hamper sometimes but the young woman always protested the effort, perhaps because she was embarrassed by such kindness. Without Albert around to shed clothes every time he had a golf game or got a little sweaty trimming the bushes, Emmy had to often fill the load with towels or old dresses. Laundry brought a lot of heavy work for her old bones but it made her feel useful and independent to keep doing that chore for herself.
Once the creaky old washing machine ground into action, Emmy dusted her hands together and retreated for the kitchen, her mind on a fresh cup of coffee.
