Wrinkles

Thomas’ mother had a distinct aversion to wrinkles. It was so bad that she wouldn’t even allow raisins in the house; a fact that bothered Thomas to no end, seeing as how Goobers were his favorite candy this month. This week alone he had gone to see the newest film at the small theater in town three times, just so he could sit and eat his candy in peace. Sadly, his friends couldn't understand why he kept paying to see the same movie yet again, but that didn't stop them for teasing him as they watched him walk past on his way to the theater every afternoon.

Wrinkles in the bedding would send his mother into fits… something that Thomas knew all too well. And while he deliberately left his sheets in a wrinkled muddle, rather than pulling them tight as he knew she preferred, he was always careful to be sure the covering bedspread was at least spread smoothly. It gave him a secret delight to know the shock she would receive if she were to ever pull the bedspread back, but then, he also knew his secret was safe, for his mother would not be caught doing such a domestic chore when he was ten years old and more than capable of doing it for himself.

Her revulsion was so bad that not only were all her clothes permanent press, but she also owned no less than three clothes steamers….four, if you counted the travel-size steamer she kept in her satchel-like purse… in case of emergencies you see. You never knew when out dining if a tablecloth would have a crease in it (though he had yet to see her actually use the mini steamer when they all went out dining; she usually just pitched a fit until they were seated at a new table).

Aunt Edna was the only wrinkled thing allowed in the house; though if Thomas’ mother had her way, Edna would have never gotten past the welcome mat. As it was, she always claimed a headache when Edna’s visits were due, and swept herself off to her room, where the linens were crisp, and promptly sit down at her vanity table. Inspecting her face from every angle she would reassure herself that crows feet and other fine lines were not somehow, magically, being transferred from Edna’s elderly face onto hers.

Thomas loved his aunt. Sure, she was getting a little silly in her old age… like just last week when she came over with a Jell-O mold, not even noticing one of her gardening gloves was suspended within. His parents avoided the offering, but Thomas, not wanting to see good lime Jell-O going to waste, helped himself to a large portion... though he was sure to eat from the edges and well away from the offending garment.