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Except given the continued clatter, I’m very sure that “fuck” was out of frustration.
I get up to close the office door but decide instead to see what’s bothering him. Maybe I can help and drive him to do literallyanythingelse.
I go into the kitchen to find Orlie at the sink, scrubbing a pot I used earlier to make a box of mac and cheese. “Oh, that’s mine, I’ll do it.”
Orlie whips his head around and glares at me. “I’ve got it.”
Yikes. I creep closer to him. “Seriously, Orlie, I was going to –”
“Just let me do it,” he says.
“I don’t feel comfortable with you washing my dishes, I’ll –”
“For fuck’s sake, Kira, I said I’ll do it.”
I freeze right where I stand.
Please don’t speak to me like that.
I wish I could say it aloud. But telling people how to treat me has never been my forte.
As if sensing my displeasure, Orlie sighs and finally turns to face me. “Look, I really hate having dishes in the sink. I don’t like cooking in a dirty kitchen.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek. “You could just throw it in the dishwasher.”
“That won’t get all the caked-on…cheese gunk that you’ve let calcify onto the pot.” He gags at the subject.
“Don’t talk about my food as if I somehow disgust you,” I say.
Orlie rolls his eyes. “When did I ever say that?”
I ignore him and stomp over to join him in front of the sink. I rip the pot out of his hands, our fingers connecting for the briefest moment that sends my head spinning. “I’ll do it.”
Orlie grabs it back. “I saidI’lldo it.”
Oh, we’re playing this game, are we?“No, I wouldn’t want to make you vomit while cleaningmydishes.”
“I’d hate to distract you from your work in order to show some common decency in the kitchen,” Orlie snaps back.
We tug back and forth on the pot, zipping quips at each other until I grab the soapy handle and the pot tumbles down into the sink, hot water and soap suds spring up at us.
We both gasp and jump away. The front of my shirt is soaked.
As is the crotch of Orlie’s pants.
I hold my lips together, attempting not to laugh. But his dampened khaki shorts make it look like he’s just –
“Don’t you dare laugh.”
I cover my mouth. Somehow, his pointing it out makes it even funnier.
“Kira.”
I am shaking from holding my laughter back. I close my eyes tight, tears springing up at the corners.
“You’re laughing!”
“I’m sorry!” I cry out, hiccupping laughs. “But you look like you peed yourself!”
