Remembering Sunday

Billy's apartment rested comfortably on the top floor of the complex, but it was just like the others, if not a little bit roomier. The walls were plain white with black trim and black leather furniture, wihch reminded me of a ying-yang. It smelt musky with a mix of Axe, almost the same way I remembered Seth's room smelling in high school.

It just smelt like a . . . boy.

"Need anything to eat or drink?" he asked politely. I gazed over at the kitchen, which contained a chrome fridge, chrome microwave, chrome, chrome, chrome! I grimaced a bit in disdain, wondering who decorated the place. It was probably Billy, as I knew well he liked to take control of things.

"Do you have any tape?" I asked.

"Um, yeah," he replied with confusion. Billy walked in the kitchen and opened a drawer on a counter, proceeding to remove a roll of clear Scotch tape, the kind used to wrap all sorts of presents. He tossed it to me, my careful hands catching it with ease, and made my way into the living room. I placed my bags on the ground next to me as I sat in front of the coffee table; Billy walked over and stood next to the chair, giving me a puzzled look. I pulled the torn, water-logged pieces of of Seth's picture out of my hoodie pocket and sprawled them out before me.

"Seth?" Billy asked. "Why do you have a shredded picture of him?"

"Why do you care?" I snapped. "You two always hated each other."

Billy shut up.

I pulled the pieces together in front of me, trying to match every tattered edge with accuracy, as though it were a puzzle for those that enjoyed challenges. Once I had every angle lined up with its opposite and all the facial features perfectly fitting together, I grabbed the tape and carefully applied piece after piece to the picture. And there was Seth, staring back at me with his gorgeous pools of blue while my own pair spewed a few tears. I wiped them away quickly with my sleeve so Billy wouldn't see, but when I looked up, he was gone.

"Here." Billy reappeared from the hallway with a pair of gray sweat pants and a black football T-shirt in his hands. "They aren't mine."

I looked at Billy with an odd glare, wondering if he was just saying that. However, I was freezing in my wet clothes, so I stood up and accepted the offer without much hesitation.

"The bathroom is the last d--"

Before he could finish his sentence, I slammed the door shut behind me and stared into my unpleasant reflection in the mirror with frosted edges. My body was trembling at the sight of myself falling apart at the seams. The tired, hungry, confused, and depressed look that had been glued to my face for what seemed like an eternity made me sick to my stomach. I wondered what would become of me now that I had left my boyfriend and was living with someone I despised. I sighed and looked away, slowly peeling my hoodie and T-shirt from my torso to reveal my bare skin and pink and green polka-dot bra. I stood sideways and looked into the large mirror, noticing the bulge that was becoming more and more noticable with time.

Frowning, I pulled the dry T-shirt onto my body and moved onto slipping my legs into the warm tunnels that were the sweat pants. In those few moments, I had failed to notice the area around me, but sure enough, it fit for a typical man's bathroom. Cans of different scented Axe and Tag were pushed against the mirror, an empty tube of Crest Pro Health had slipped into the sink, the drain looked like it was clogged with hair, and the counter needed to be scrubbed free of the soap and toothpaste scum. A pair of red boxers hung over the side of the bathtub and a used condom was sitting right on top of the garbage filled wastebasket. I cringed and gathered my things, quickly exiting and smacking myself right into Billy.

"Shit, sorry," he said, taking a step backwards. I didn't respond. I noticed he was holding my bags.

"What're you doing?" I demanded.

"I'm going to go wash you clothes for you," he said.

"No, you're not." I grabbed the bags from his hands. "I'll do it myself."

"Fine, whatever, but you'll need these," he said, proceeding to drop a handful of quarters into my hands. I nodded and made my way to the door.

"The laundry room is downstairs," Billy said.

"I hate you," I replied. There was a moment of silence.

"I know."