It’s finally the weekend; time for me to be as lazy as I want and just lay around on this couch. I yawn loud, my mouth cracking a bit, and stretch out all cross the couch, letting my arms hang off of the sides. I close my eyes and let myself relax, but it quickly comes to an end when I hear a loud beeping going off in the kitchen. I open my eyes half way and stare at the ceiling.

“I forgot Sam was doing laundry.”

I let out a sigh and sit up, looking over the back of the couch. Every weekend, Samantha likes to take some extra time out of the day and do a deep cleaning of the house. She hits every nook, every sharp corner, and all of the far off places she doesn’t usually do during the week. I know Sam’s dream is to be the perfect housewife, but every time I see her trying really hard to keep the house clean, I feel a bit bad that I’m not helping out.

I sit up and look at Sam in the kitchen and notice she’s mopping. I decide to ask her, “Hey, you want me to help you today?”

Samantha quickly look up from her mopping; she has this funny thing where she shakes her hips around when she mops. She spins on the handle of the mop and turns to look at me, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel like you’re always doing everything.”

I enjoy my downtime, but I don’t like when I feel like I’m useless at time. But when I see Samantha smiling after I said that, I can feel a faint warmth coming from her. She may act like a brat, she may fuss like a kid at times, and she may get on my nerves, but she never means anything bad by it.

With her smile wide on her face, Samantha answers again, “Really, I can do it. I like when I see you taking it easy. It shows I’m doing something right.”

She rests the mop against the counter and slowly walks to me on the couch, the sound of her feet splashing in small puddles reaching my ears. She presses her hands on my cheeks and looks at me directly in my eyes before planting a soft kiss on my forehead. I can’t see my face, but I’m pretty sure I’m blushing red like a tomato.

I swear, if her sweetness could kill, I’d be in constant danger.

“So just relax and watch TV while I finish up here,” she whispers to me. She turns around and skips back to where she placed the mop, “Besides, the fun part is about to happen.”

I want to answer her, but my body is too paralyzed by her; all I can do is nod and lay back down.

I take a deep breath and reach for the remote on the coffee table in front of me, turn on the TV to pass the time. I just lay there and let myself get sucked into the flashing screen, knowing Samantha is capable of doing everything.

A few minutes into me being lazy, I can hear Samantha giving small groans and grunts, “You need help?”

“No, I got it.”

I shrug and keep looking at the TV. Just a few seconds later, a massive splashing sound can be hear in the kitchen. Part of me is starting to get worried, but I don’t want to bother Samantha too much, especially since she’s not asking for help, so I ignore everything.

Brushes scratching against the floor follows the splashing; she must have brought out one of the hard bristle brushes from the closet. Samantha starts laughing for some reason. Hearing her laughter is starting to make me chuckle, so I want to get a look at what’s so funny to her.

I sit up one more time to get a peek, “What’s so fun–”

I stop mid-sentence at what I’m witnessing. The entire kitchen floor is covered in water; it’s slowly reaching out into the living room. With two small broom brushes tied to her feet and her arms folded behind her back, Samantha has somehow found a way to skate across the water. Easily gliding back and forth and all around our kitchen without a care in the world, she doesn’t even notice that I’m watching her. However, even though I should be confused at what I’m seeing, her movements just keep me trapped and left for words.

Her movements flow elegantly and with precise timing and precision, stringing together simple ballet stances and moves. Her hair blows out from behind her, dancing on its own in the gentle breeze she makes from skating. The water beneath her feet waves around her as if she’s controlling it; it splashes around and add an aquatic touch to her performance. She managed to make the kitchen her own personal stage for the time being, and I’m getting a personal show.

Awe-struck and my jaw agape, I watch on. Her performance coming to a end, Samantha end with a final pirouette, landing in a finishing bow. A moment of silence washes over the entire house, but not for long.

I go into a wild cheer and start clapping, “Yeah, Samantha! Woo! You got moves!”

I can tell that my sudden outburst caught her off guard; she quickly looks up at me and her entire face flushes red, her voice trembling with fright, “Y-Y-Y-Y-You saw m-me?!”

“Well, yeah. I am on the couch after all.”

Samantha cover her face and squeals a bit, “I can’t believe you saw me! I can’t believe you saw me! I can’t believe you saw me!”

I lean forward on the couch as I look at her, “Is that a bad thing?”

“I get stage fright!”

“But it’s only me here.”

“That’s even worse! It’s embarrassing when you watch me do things!”

I chuckle a bit, keeping my eyes on Samantha. Who knew somebody who’s so easily embarrassed would have the graceful moves of a professional performer?

 

— via Daily Prompt: Graceful Graceful

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