The Pursuit of Perfection

40: Shower

It starts as an annoying bug running into me over and over in my dream, and then, gradually, as I am pulled back into consciousness, I realize it is not at all a bug, but Harry poking my arm.

"Harry," I whine, turning over, away from him.

"Get up, it's almost time for dinner." He says, nudging me once more.

I sigh.

"You know how Nancy gets if we're late." He scolds me.

I sigh again. "Maybe you should talk to her?" I ask.

"About?" He asks, "How much she loathes me and my life?"

"Maybe that's not it." I say, turning over to look at him.

"No?"

"I mean," I say, twirling a little ringlet of his hair that has fallen onto his forehead, "I threw my keys at you, and yelled at you, and called you creepy, and told you to fuck yourself, but all of that had to do with me."

He pauses, watching me for a moment.

"That's different."

"Why?"

"Because..." He pauses, "Because she was supposed to be my mom."

"So that means she isn't human? And that she doesn't have her issues?" I ask, "I'm not saying you should forgive her, but maybe you should hear her out."

Harry clears his throat, "I smell like chlorine." He says, changing the subject. 'Pass', it seems to say.

I let it go. "You were in a pool." I say.

"I have to shower." Harry says, sitting up.

"Alright." I sigh, closing my eyes and cuddling back under the covers, "Wake me up when you get out."

"You could come with me." Harry suggests.

I peek over at him, "No."

Harry sighs, "I don't mean it like that."

"No?" I ask, trying to find the smirk I expect is on his face. It's not there.

"I won't do it in a shower. I always have this strange scenario of one of us tripping and gauging our eye out on the spigot." Harry tells me, and then makes a face, "It makes me grossed out every time I think about it."

"I wish you hadn't told me that." I tell him, making a face.

"Look if I have to suffer with that imagery, you do too." He says nudging me with his leg.

"I don't think its a good idea." I say.

"Ah," Harry says nodding, "So this actually isn't about me."

"What?"

"You don't want to, because you're not comfortable showering with me." Harry says. "Okay, fine, I can respect that."

"That's not it."

"Then what?"

"I mean maybe it is."

"Okay."

"Maybe not." I decide.

"Well, I don't know if this helps, but I'll wash your hair for you," Harry tells me, "And I won't get soap in your eyes, I swear."

"How many times have you said that, and then proceeded to get soap in her eyes?"

Harry pauses, "I've never actually said that. You'll be the first person whose hair I've washed that isn't mine. But I promise, I won't get soap in your eyes."