I would always tell her, “Leave my room the fuck alone!” It usually didn’t take much for me to lose my head. After a while, I’d lock my door whenever I left the house, just so she couldn’t clean and rearrange everything. I remember one day, I got into my car and was about to drive off, when I realized my wallet was up in my room. All was quiet when I went back in the house. I think my father was taking a nap. As I approached my room, the door was wide open and there she was, with a bottle of all purpose cleaner in one hand and rag in the other, swiftly wiping the dust of my habits, lifting the papers on my desk and stacking them in one neat pile. I couldn’t have stood there for very long. I was furious; I remember my fury, the same fury that now arouses in me laughter.
“What the hell..?” I shouted. She screamed, startled, but ready to laugh. She dropped the all purpose cleaner. “Are you serious?”
“Sasan, I thought you were out,” she giggled.
“I was. What the hell are you doing?”
“I just thought, while you’re out…”
“Yeah, perfect opportunity, right? I’ve asked you so many times mother, I’ve begged you to just leave my room alone. This is all that I have, this is all that I am! This room…I’ve asked you to leave my papers alone!” I continued yelling my bullshit at her.
She only laughed and said, “Okay, okay, you caught me…Scared me half to death!” and she laughed, and she laughed…as she left my room. She couldn’t have been in there for more than five minutes. I looked around; the goddamn place was spotless. I sat down in my fury. She had even cleaned out my ashtray, and if the ashtray could’ve talked, looking at me it would’ve said, “Tsk, tsk, you’re a fucking asshole…”
The other day, while I was cleaning the apartment and changing the bed sheets and duvet cover, I felt as if she was watching me. I’m sure, she would’ve loved to see the sight. I remember her laughter. I picture her smiling at me, all purpose cleaner in one hand and rag in the other, saying, “Dear Sasan, you missed many spots.”