"Q-Tip"

I can hear a scrapping sound as the drawer in the bathroom opens, and light pours into the drawer I’m in. My rest is jarred by a hand dipping into the clear plastic box I lay in with my relatives. I cling to a cousin, our white cotton tips intertwined for an eternal heartbeat. I feel myself stretching. Then with a jolt, I’m suddenly free. End over fluff-covered end, I fall. I bounce against the edge of the box and tumble onto the bottom of the drawer. With a heavy thud, a blue tube of deodorant lands beside me. A cloud of baby power and pears bellows out from the blue tube. Vibrations rattle through me as the drawer is slammed shut and darkness blankets everything around me. In the blackness, white letters glow.

Secret. Asian Pear & Baby Powder.

“Hello,” I call to the deodorant before me. It doesn’t answer.

Hours pass and the vibration of the drawer bring a bright light that wakes me. I see the deodorant being lifted away from me, and I call out.

“Goodbye, Asian Pear! Goodbye!” Again, it doesn’t answer. Maybe I’m just not loud enough. Hopefully, Asian Pear comes back and we can continue our conversation.

“What were we talking about,” I wonder, slightly pensive. I spot some toothpaste, and rock with joy.

“You’ll talk to me, won’t you, Colgate,” I pipe up cheerfully. The deodorant thuds next to me again, no doubt keeping Colgate from answering. Asian’s not very sweet; despite her delicate perfume. The drawer closes and snuffs out any further questions.

It repeats, the drawer scrapping open, various neighbors leaving without a word, returning the same way, and the drawer slamming shut. Each time, I try and try to get someone’s attention. Each time, I call out to Asian, to Colgate, even to the hundreds of cousins of mine still lying peaceful and ignorant in their clear plastic box. I wonder when they’ll realize that every day there remain fewer and fewer of them. I wordlessly watch their numbers dwindle, fascinated by their disappearance, curious about where they go when they leave the drawer. Perhaps those left in the box think that I too went to the Light, and that they don’t realize that I fell instead, that I’m lying here watching them disappear while I age and collect dust.

Asian leaves one day, as does Colgate, and do not return. The oddity pulls me from the relentlessly repetitive feel of my life. They had never left together before. A bright pink box blocks my view of the q-tip box. “Baby Safe Cotton Swabs,” I read silently. As the drawer rolls shut I about jump for joy.

“Baby Safe! Hi! Welcome to the Drawer! How are you,” I bubble out into the darkness. Silence is my only reply. Maybe Baby’s too scared to answer. It is very dark in the drawer at night. Mayhap I’ll just wait until the day returns, with a scrape and a bump. Unless, Asian got to Baby. Asian told Baby not to talk to me. Yes, that’s exactly what happened. Asian and Colgate are waiting just outside, telling new arrivals that I am not worth speaking to. Damn that Asian Pear! For all her sweetness, she sure is a stinky bit of deodorant.

Again I find myself unable to make sense of the days and nights, and as Baby’s silence continues, I find myself once more fascinated by the dwindling numbers of q-tips in the pink box before me. I’m only grateful for the change between day and night, light and darkness. For with it comes the vibration of the drawer that shakes off a bit of the dust that gathers on me, even if the errant strands of hair and cat fur make me unhappy.

Baby’s turn to leave comes soon enough, as glitter power brushes and little girl hair ties replace the pink box from before. No sooner do I work up the courage to say hello than the glitter and hair bows leave. Nail polish, lipstick, and perfume take their place. I sigh, and give up, just as long-nailed fingers collect me carefully and hoist me into the light.

“Ew, Mom! This q-tip’s gross,” I hear. The first words not my own that I’ve ever heard.

“Well, if you cleaned out your bathroom drawers more often…”

“Hey! It wasn’t me with the q-tips! This must’ve been one of yours.”

My heart sinks as I feel myself falling, end over dust-covered frizzy end.