her gesture

She had departed before the sun had even come up, her long daily commute ahead of her. He, on the other hand, worked remotely, so he wandered lazily around her apartment like a tourist in the gift shop of a hipster art museum, investigating every nook and cranny.

It was the first time he had been alone in her apartment. The previous evening had been the first time he’d been invited to sleep over and now she had trusted him enough to leave him to his own devices. He thought about the word apartment; they were apart so he was currently in a state of apartment. He considered writing that thought down so he could repeat it to her upon her return, but realized it made no sense. At least not enough sense to write down.

Instead of spending time trying to impress her with his hit-or-miss wit, he thought his energy would be better served making some grand gesture.

But what gesture?

He poked around until he poked his head (What poking would be complete without involving the head, widely considered the backbone of a good poke) (Second most important? The backbone) into her bathroom.

She was down to her last toilet roll, the toothpaste was almost empty and her toothbrush looked as haggard and worn out as a toothbrush is capable of looking. The bristles appeared beyond frayed, they seemed defeated. Seemingly incapable of one more trip along the gum line.

So he hurried down to the pharmacy and bought more toilet paper, a tube of toothpaste and a brand spankin’ new toothbrush for her.

With that out of the way he sat down at the kitchen table with his laptop and awaited her return.

And return she did. He was bursting. He couldn’t wait for her to finally enter her bathroom and see what he had done. His gesture. They ordered out dinner and watched a movie on the television. She made no inquiries as to his plans to depart, which he took as a good sign. Soon it was time for bed and he casually sprawled across the bed in a comically suggestive pose.

She laughed and then ducked into the bathroom.

He could barely contain his excitement.

She stormed out clutching the toothbrush. “What is this?” she inquired at seven decibels.

He smiled innocently and replied “A new toothbrush! I went out to the store…”

She cut him off.

“Where is my old toothbrush?” she roared.

He hesitated. “I… threw it out.” It was said almost as a question, despite the fact he distinctly remembered throwing out.

“What is my best feature?” she asked loudly.

The sudden pivot in the topic caused him to freeze. A little of the old deer in the headlights. She repeated the question. Grasping at straws he offered “Your eyes?”

“My teeth! My teeth are my best feature. My godamn pearly white teeth.” Which, ironically, were nowhere to be seen at that moment.

He thought about it for a moment and was forced to agree. She had a dazzling smile.

“My teeth are what color?” she demanded.

“White…” he replied.

“And what color was my old toothbrush?” she further demanded.

“White” he repeated. He did not see where this line of inquiry was going.

She continued said inquiry. “Now what is the color of the toothbrush I am now holding?” She thrust it only inches from his face.

“Green” he said in a hushed tone.

“Exactly!” And with that she stormed back into her bathroom. He could hear the sound of frantic brushing. At least two minutes of it. Finally the sound of a quick gargle and spit made its way through the door.

The door that then opened slowly. As dramatic as a door can open without background music.

She stood in the doorway and stared down at him.

He had no fucking idea what was going on.

She smiled broadly. Too broadly.

Her teeth were green.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Was this his cue to scream or run or both?

She continued to stare and smile for an uncomfortably-long time. Then she broke character and began to laugh.

He had no fucking idea what was going on.

“It’s food coloring. I saw the new toothbrush when I got home when you weren’t paying attention so I snuck a bottle of green food coloring into my pocket. I use it when I’m making Christmas cookies.” She couldn’t stop laughing. “The look on your face…”

He felt a wave of relief that was quickly replaced by confusion. He had trouble articulating his next question. Finally he settled on a simple “Why?”

She walked back into the bathroom and began to brush her teeth again, eager to remove the green dye. Between brushes she said “I don’t know, it just seemed funny.”

He laughed nervously. “That’s so odd…”

Energized by the whole affair, she asked “Did you think for even a moment that the toothbrush you threw out was somehow magic? Like my white teeth were a result of some sort of sorcery?”

The question seemed sincere enough, despite all the continued giggling and the white froth falling from her mouth as she talked and brushed simultaneously.

“I don’t know” he said earnestly, “I didn’t really have time to think anything.”

“Oh… that’s a shame.” With that she ran and hurled herself onto the bed. “Thanks for the new toothbrush.”