Empty Bottle of Body Wash

I think that everyone at some point plays some kind of superstitious game. I'm the last person to believe in these things, but sometimes they can be fun. For example, Will used to count out exactly 13 ice cubes in his water jug before high school soccer games. Paxton used to juggle a ball and said if he got to a certain number, he could achieve whatever he desired. You see what I'm saying? Everyone does something like this.

I did this with the bottle of Old Spice body wash I keep in the shower. Way back when, Lynn tossed out my bar soap methods and replaced it with a loofah. I was reluctant at first (sacrificing my precious manhood and all), but came to admit that the loofah/body wash clean was much more satisfying.

The thing with body wash is, they last FOREVER. A large bottle could last me an entire calendar year. One night, many moons ago, while I was scrubbing down my disgusting body I thought to myself, "I bet I will hear from Lynn by the time this bottle is empty." I'm not quite sure why I picked my body wash to make as the benchmark, but I did.


This afternoon, I opened up my gmail to see the word Lynn in bold; my only new message.

My eyes widened like dinner plates and my stomach did a perfect somersault. Leo was in the kitchen, with his jeans rolled up, mopping the floor.

"Holy SHIT!"
"What!? What!?"
"Lynn just emailed me."
"No way dude. No. Fucking. Way."

"Beer," I say.

An ice cold can is instantly placed in my open hand, like a surgeon at the operating table requesting a scalpel, as my eyes continue to stay fixed on the screen.

This is the first time I have heard from her in almost a year. Her first sentence actually made me chuckle... I guess she didn't totally forget what I'm like:

First off, don't freak out. Take a breath. I know, I am emailing you. I just have some things to say and get off of my chest, and hopefully they will help you feel okay.

I think when you get a message like this, you automatically try to take the entire thing in all at once. My eyes darted back and forth looking for key words like, "I hate you" or "Leave me alone" or "I'd like to see you", etc. I finally shut my eyes, took a breath and started from the beginning.

The email wasn't too short or too long and basically telling me that she DID want to talk and meet up eventually, but now wasn't the best time. She isn't mad. She doesn't hate me. She still thinks about me. She asked that I not send her things anymore or try to contact her.

I sat back on the yoga ball and blinked for the first time in what seems like years.

Leo: Well? What's going on in that head of yours?
So@24: I'm okay. I'm okay. It's not bad.

It was good to hear from her. "Good" is a bit of an understatement... tiny gnomes in my chest were throwing a kegger and everyone was getting down. It was just... nice. Nice to hear from her. Nice to know that she doesn't hate me and that she does (someday) want to be friends. I just have to be patient, I suppose. I'm not the known for being the best at that.

As much as I wanted to respond to her email, I simply shut down the computer and got in the shower.

And would you believe it? My Old Spice body wash had one good squeeze left before it was completely empty.

I can't make things like this up.




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