Don’t Tell Mom!
My sister was a tall and lanky kid at 8 years old, whereas I was a stout five year old whose height barely passed her waistline. This one particular day my sister called me to the laundry room and told me to climb into the clothes dryer. Rightfully reluctant I adamantly refused such an odd request, but she still persisted saying “c’mon, just get in”. Still untrusting I replied “why should I?” Which she responded with, “I just want to see if you fit inside cause it looks so small”. Something just felt wrong with this whole idea, so once again I refused. Desperate to persuade me to get in the dryer she climbed in and said “see, there’s nothing to be afraid of”. I felt like the kids from Hansel and Gretel when the witch was trying to coax them into the oven--my sister, being the witch, of course. I finally blurted “I don’t wanna get in cause you’re gonna turn it on.” Being evil as she is, she says “I promise I won’t” with such sincerity it truly sounded honest. So, thinking quickly, I made some rules. “You can’t close the door, and you promised not to turn it on!” which she swiftly and blindly agrees to all my requests, including the penalty to run around the neighborhood naked for 10 minutes if she breaks her promise. “Yah, yah, yah, just get in” as her eyes get wider with excitement and she guides me to the dryer opening like a ringmaster ushering the audience to a show behind the red velvet curtains. Slowly I place my hands on the mustard colored dryer opening to balance myself as I lift my right foot and set it inside the dryer. The cold metal was refreshing as opposed to the humid Hawaiian heat. I get halfway in and turn around to look at my sister, pointing with my left index finger, “you promised”! “Yes, yes, yes” she replies as she stands there anxiously waiting for me to finally get inside. It was as if she was standing there looking like Dr. Frankenstein, rubbing his hand over hand in anticipation. My left foot is the last body part to make it inside, when instantly everything turns pitch black! I pound and scream on the door that was just shut behind me, then the curved wall began to move and a loud churning noise filled my ears as I cart wheeled about twice before kicking the door open and scrambling out of the dryer steaming mad!
I screamed only to have it immediately muffled by my sister’s hand which was pressed so tightly against my nose and mouth it began to suction into my face at every breath I attempted to take. She was in my face with a firm and threatening tone “Don’t tell mom!” I was in no way about to agree to any requests from her ever again! I was so mad! She promised! How could she do that after she said she wouldn’t? Incredibly infuriated I wriggled away screaming “I’m telling mom on you!” only to be wrestled to the floor with pleas and bribery not to tell.
Through the madness and betrayal I cannot recall what persuaded me not to tell anyone my sister stuck me in the dryer and turned it on! It was a few years ago when we were sitting with the family enjoying the many conversations, at one point, we went on a childhood confession stint and finally shared the dryer story with my parents. My mom was still shocked and horrified it even happened, exclaiming in her Filipino accent to dad, “honey, did you hear that? Joy stuck Jill in the dryer!” We all had a good long laugh, except mom.
