Rinse, repeat

As a child, I would go with my mother to the laundromat, helping her sort the dark clothes from the light. Once we loaded the washing machines with dirty jeans and T-shirts, she would pull over a chair for me, and I would watch the suds spinning in the commercial-sized washers. Mesmerized by the swirling white foam, I imagined I was looking into Snow White’s magic mirror – that there was an all-seeing, all-knowing jinn trapped inside.

I would ask questions, daydreaming that I was a princess, a spy, an aviatrix, an adventurous archaeologist. Within the ebb and flow of murky water, I would see scenes from my life unfolding.

In a child’s fantasy, everything was possible.

My happily ever after never came. I was the lost little girl in a Bros. Grimm fairy tale. Abandoned in a bewitched forest, surrounded by sorcerers and monsters. Love unraveled, hopes broken, my dreams turned into a nightmare.

Now, years later, I was once again in a familiar landscape. Metal and glass surrounded me, and I was bathed in the unrelenting whirring and swishing of water and tumbling rags.

The last of my dirty laundry packed into an oversized industrial appliance, I dropped six quarters into the slots and pushed Start. Watching the water fill the drum, I was taken back to my childhood.

I pulled up a chair to watch the show.

The familiar face of my childhood jinn appeared smiling, but not welcoming. Instead a malevolent visage transmuted out of the froth.

“Where have you been?” I felt the voice rather than heard it. “You left me here, alone in the dark.”

I looked over my shoulder, hoping to see someone, anyone, I could connect with the voice.

“I’ve been waiting for so long.” The anger in the voice chilled my skin, raising the hair on my arms and back of my neck.

“You abandoned me and you have to answer for that.” I reached for the door of the washer, hoping to silence the voice if I could open it, and release the water.

Tugging on the handle, the controls wouldn’t allow me to stop the cycle while the red power light was still on. In a panic, I struggled with the dials. Finally surrendering in defeat, I sat back in my chair.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked in a small, child’s voice.

The door clicked open, water rushed over me, caustic soap burned my eyes, dirty sluice filled my nostrils. I opened my mouth to protest. The deluge drowned out my….

“I want you to…”

… screams.

“…scream.”