Playing House
Image of an alarm clock, with piece title and author name plus Unapologetic logo which has a drawing of a frustrated woman holding her finger to her temple
By Keely McLavin
My parents are away this weekend, so my partner and I get to play house.
I get to wake up to my alarm, not my sisters for school, not my mom’s for work, and not to the sound of my dad’s car on the drive. My alarm goes off, I snooze it once, twice, and a final third time, knowing that each five minutes will be undisturbed.
Work goes slow. I am excited to go home and cook dinner, in a kitchen where I will not be in someone’s way, where I can play music I enjoy without the feeling of guilt for ruining someone else’s quiet time. I can cook a meal I like, without the worry of waste, or what other people will or will not eat. I can sit in the sitting room, use the television, and watch Sky if I feel fancy.
My partner lies on my lap, and I brush my fingers through his hair, grateful for a moment of intimacy which does not feel awkward, rushed, or watched. Time spent in silence, enjoying each other’s company, having moments of affection that feels comfortable, not like I just had my first kiss in front of my parents.
I can put my feet up, watch my clothes dry, take in the smell of fresh cotton and lavender fabric softener. A feeling of excitement of doing my laundry outside of my scheduled day, knowing I don’t have to rush to fold still-damp clothes so that someone else can dry theirs.
A feeling of childish giddiness when I realize I can shower at any time for whatever duration I would like, without fear of waking up someone who is as equally tired. Without rushing so someone else can relieve themselves or brush their teeth. I turn on the loud electric shower without the possibility of waking someone up or delaying anyone from rest.
We do the closing shift, pretending it’s a chore. “Have you locked the door?”, “Is the dishwasher on?” We ask these questions with smiles on our faces, using the keys to this house for the first time in months.
At a reasonable 11pm we walk up the stairs to our bedroom, grateful that today it is just a space for sleep. The bed’s only purpose is for rest. Today this room did not function as a classroom, an office, a living room, a dining room, and social space simultaneously. Today this room got a well-deserved break.
On nights like this, the sheets feel fresher, the room seems to have more air, and I sleep easier.
When I was 5, playing house meant owning my own home, having my own dishes, tea cups, bed sheets, furniture, the opportunity of a pet, a family of my own. Now I am 24 and playing house means cherishing the minutes, hours, or if I’m lucky, days, where I can borrow my parents’ home, before they come back.
“Keely McLavin uses she/her pronouns”
