Minda Lacy

Elsie

Sometimes I wonder if the things that I remember are actually real… I remember a time, back when the two of us used to live in our shabby little apartment in the suburbs of Seattle. We’d fall asleep every night to the leak in the ceiling above our hallway dripping drops into the sauce pan we put there to prevent the carpet from getting wet and the apartment from reeking of mold. Within a few months of moving from Tucson, we learned that mold eventually permeates everything you own, know, and love when you live in the Pacific North West. We’d spend every morning before you left for work sipping coffee and watching the rain. You’d tell me all the wild new things you were learning in school that week and I’d sit there nodding, pretending that I was half as intelligent as you were. When you were away at work or school for the day, I’d often imagine you spying on me. I’d do every boring house hold activity with bold, humorous gesticulations, keeping my posture straight and my hair down so that the imaginary you that was watching me would be impressed by my charm and good looks. ‘He washes the windows so elegantly’ you’d think to yourself as you spied on me through the skylight.