NIKKI & JOE, CASUALLY |

11: nicolás fortiflora

            I pour a bag of sand into the two-foot container I've dug into the ground by the back garden wall. I've lived in this house for a few years but this is the first summer that I've touched the garden. I'm too skint for owt proper but I've planted some periwinkle and heucheras in the shade, tomatoes in the sun, and sprinkled clover seeds into the grass for less maintenance and more bees.

Now I'm making a pond. The internet says they're good for frogs and frogs are important for a garden's ecosystem. Though I doubt there'll be any frogs looking to settle down in Moss Side.

I'm arranging rocks over the sand when the door opens. I look up at Cece. It's jarring to see his arms bare. Despite the summer heat, they've worn either a hoodie or left a black long-sleeve under their tees every day; their skin is so pale we could pass for different races. Their headphones are wrapped around their neck though the music is so loud that I can hear the repeat of "I think I'd love to die alone" even though he never steps outside.

'You're gonna get ear damage.'

'I'm tryna not hear my thoughts, genio.'

'If you go deaf you'll have to listen to the thoughts all day.'

His brow pinches and they chew on their fingernails. 'I'd not thought of that.' He straightens his posture and grins. 'Guess I'll just have to kill myself first.'

'What?'

'I were gonna do some washing...'

I wait for them to continue but when they don't, I smile. Maybe they're asking for permission. 'That's alright, go ahead.'

Cece drops their attention to their socks, scrunching their toes. 'Could you... like, show me?'

I baulk, then internally smack myself. Don't: Be a dick. 

Foster homes have to keep detergent locked away for safety risks—small children could accidentally consume them, teenagers could... well, they could intentionally consume them. From the little I know of Cece's care experience, I doubt any of their foster parents would've taken the time to teach them how to wash laundry.

I fork the surprise out of my voice as I push myself off the ground. 'Course.'

My eyes take a while to adjust to the darkness inside. Cece has already packed their black mass of clothing into the washer but that's as far as they've got. I open it. 'You'll want to turn all your graphic tees inside out. It'll stop the print from wearing out so quickly.'

'Oh. Okay.'

I turn all their studded and chained clothes inside out too, closing all the zippers and buttons. I show them how to tell if the washer is too full, explain that it's important for the water and detergent to be able to saturate the fabrics properly.

When I fetch the detergent, Cece lurches forward. 'That says colour.'

I raise my eyebrows. 'It won't turn your clothes into a rainbow.'

'I didn't think it would!' Their cheeks burn red.

I wrestle back my grin. Would be easy to take the piss! But then they'll never ask me for help again.

'There's white detergent that tends to strip colour from clothes, then there's colour detergents that brighten them up, and black detergent that keeps them from going grey. If it's well important that your blacks stay bright, you can always just dye them twice a year. Though, since all your clothes are black–' including their socks and underwear '–for you it might just be easier to get a black detergent when you start buying your own. But I've used this colour one thus far and you've not noticed owt so I reckon it's alright.'