The Boys Room
The Boys Room
The Boys Room was seldom clean. There was clutter on the floor, the beds were generally unmade, and clothes were generally strewn across the floor. On those occasions when we decided to tidy up the room, it was never completely shipshape. The room was divided by an imaginary line, in which Tim and I would clean our side of the room...but leave VJ's side untouched. On these rare occasions, our side would be "spotless", while VJ's side would have a 1-2 inch surface of paper, clothes and other miscellaneous odds and ends.
This mess rarely spilled over into the hallway, which in later years became known as Steve's bedroom. At some point, VJ no longer wanted to share his bed with any of his brothers, so Steve became a boy without a bed. He took his pillow and blankets and moved to a place near one of the heat registers, and perhaps was warmer than we were during most winter evenings. As one walked up the stairs and into the hallway, there was nothing to signal visitors that a very messy room was nearby.
This disheveled condition sustained itself through our high school years.
The climax of unwanted visitors coming into our rooms occurred during my senior year. I came home a little early from school because of a stomach virus. I went directly to my room, and on the way I passed by two women who were painting the walls along the stairwells. These two women had been painting walls downstairs for several weeks, and dad suggested that they paint the upstairs hallway. I thought to myself, "this could be trouble". I went to my room anyway, and shut the door behind me.
After awhile I could tell they were fully upstairs. They were talking quietly, but I could hear something like "lets look." They began opening the doors of each of our bedrooms, and realizing what they were doing I pushed the sheets and blankets over my head. Finally they opened the boys' bedroom door...and the door immediately shut and I could hear laughter in the hall. Then I heard the door open again...then it shut...and again more laughter. Finally one of them said, "hey, didn't one of them come upstairs?" Because they didn't know which room I went into, they didn't open any more doors after that.
I was determined to stay in that room until they left. Finally 5:00 o'clock came, and they left for the day. I went downstairs and I told mom that these women were doing. I was looking for some sympathy, but after listening to my verbal babbling, all she said was, "maybe you should clean your room."
So much for sympathy.
Story by Terry Smith