Jan Keyes

The Day I Laughed Out Loud

 

Mom glanced over as I passed her in the kitchen, “We need to clean the silverware and set the table for company. Pastor Carlson and his wife are coming for dinner.”

           

“We” meant “me.” This was the way she relegated tasks. These weren’t shared projects. I responded with a shrug.

           

She continued, “I left the silverware and plates in the dining room. The polish is under the sink.”

           

“Okay,” I said. “So, you want me to do that now?” I asked.

           

“Might as well,” she said, then left.

           

My free time was derailed. I grabbed the silverware in tight-fisted bunches, got them lathered up with a paste, rinsed, dried, and set out. Soon everything was gleaming. I put all the place settings with the glassware and dishes on the linen. I was satisfied. The table was ready for company.  

           

“We’ll need to vacuum,” she added as she passed through.

           

I maneuvered the Electrolux over the long swaths of tan carpet throughout the dining room into the living room. I reset the chairs, then dashed upstairs as soon as I put away the vacuum before any other task was doled out.

           

Once evening arrived and we were all seated I responded to our guests’ polite questions with my usual shy, one-word answers, then turned away. Soon they switched their attention elsewhere and left me alone. I was relieved. I looked up occasionally, silently watching them banter back and forth, volleying compliments and comments. I quietly scrutinized my plate as I scooped up morsels.

           

Then suddenly, it was as though a volcano exploded! A loud guffaw burst forth! My stifled giggles turned into uproarious laughter! The laughter just spewed out, like uncorked champagne bubbling out from the bottle!  I had forgotten what hysterical, deep belly laughs felt like.

 

Yet, there it was. There I was. A shy teen now feeling embarrassed, out of character, and uncontrollable. The rest of the room sat frozen. Chatting ceased. All eyes were on me. They looked confused, mesmerized. I glanced from face to face. Each surprised look induced more rumbles and chuckles. As soon as I emptied my tank, I looked around once again. Overwhelmed by the stoic sight, I grabbed my aching sides as I let out more giggles. Mom squeezed in the obvious question, “What is so funny?”

           

I tried to explain as more laughs jumped between my words, “I first thought you said, hahaha, Unleashed … hahaha … Muslims! Hahaha! And you said, “Unbleached … hahaha…muslin!” I threw wide my grin and emptied more chuckles over the now-stalled conversation. Once again, I looked around. “Ya see? I just thought it was funny!”

           

“Yes. I guess you did,” she replied.

            Satisfied, the adults turned back to each other. I went back to my plate in silence.