“Give me that.” He takes the basket from me, never breaking his stride. “I take my laundry to my parents’ house.”
“Oh, do they live nearby?”
“What is this, twenty questions?”
I stay silent after that. If he doesn’t want to talk to me, whatever. I can take a hint.
We approach a small brick building and he enters a four digit code into the keypad by the door. It blinks green and he holds it open for me, but doesn’t step inside.
“Can you figure it out?” he asks, jutting his chin at the row of machines. I nod, eyeing them. They look fairly standard. “Can you find your way back?” I glance over at him and nod again. “Good,” he says, but makes no motion to leave.
I take the basket from him and set it on the closest washer, measuring out my detergent. He watches me, ever the observer. “My parents live about fifteen minutes away. I go over there every Monday night for dinner.”
I give him a big smile. “See, that wasn’t so difficult.”
His lips twitch slightly, so quick I almost missed it. “Audrey’s the talker in the family.”
“It must be hard to get a word in edgewise.” I stuff everything into the machine and search for where I can insert my cash.
“I don’t mind.” He waits a beat and then sticks a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ve got to get ready to go.”
“Thanks for your help.” I bend down, hoping to find the payment slot. Where do the bills go, let alone quarters? “Do you know where the money goes?”
“There’s a card reader right there.” He motions to the device flashing to the side of the machine.
“I don’t have a card, only cash.”
“Just run back and get it. I don’t think anyone will take your clothes in five minutes.”
“No, I don’t have a card at all.”
“It takes debit.”
Wow, he’s really not getting it. “I don’t have one.”
“You don’t have a bank account?” he asks incredulously.
“No,” I mumble, heat licking my face. When I had first started working, as a minor I couldn’t open an account by myself and didn’t want my mom’s name attached in any way to my hard earned money. I had gotten used to squirreling it away in my secret stash at home and hadn’t bothered to open one when I turned eighteen. Although, that definitely came back to bite me in the ass, didn’t it? Well, that was one more thing I could add to my to-do list as a newly independent adult.
“Good idea, Levi. I’ll go open one tomorrow.” I lift the washer lid and start to take my sheets back out, sticky with liquid blue laundry detergent.
“Hey, what are you doing?” He jumps into action, finally coming in the room, the door slamming shut behind him.
“I can’t pay.”
“I’ve got it.” He takes his billfold out of his back pocket and slides a card in before I can protest.
“Here.” I hold a few ones out at him I got in tips yesterday, but he refuses to take it.
“Think of it as a housewarming present.”
“I appreciate it,” I say softly. My first instinct is to be suspicious, but I try to put that out of my mind and give him the benefit of the doubt. Guys generally aren’t nice to me without a reason I’ve found. And those reasons are ones I don’t really care for.
My roommate’s just looking out for me, I remind myself.
“It’s nothing,” he says gruffly, stepping back. “I’m going now.”
“Have fun with your family.” I can’t help the wistful note that enters my voice. What would it be like to sit down for a weekly dinner with the people you love? I have no idea what his family is like, even if he has any siblings, but I’m imagining a June Cleaver-esque mother in pearls setting a pot roast down on the table, the father folding up the newspaper he was just reading, a little girl in pigtails ready with her knife and fork, and then... Levi sitting there stoically in his black Metallica shirt, his tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve. Yeah, I guess the image doesn’t really fit.
The closest I’ve ever come to anything like that is spending Christmas day at my Aunt Kathy’s, but I still always feel like an outsider, no matter how much they try to include me.
“Yeah, real fun,” he mutters.
Maybe home life isn’t so great then? Well, I doubt he has me beat.
4
Levi
“A GIRL, YOU SAY?” MOM asks, carrying a steaming bowl of spaghetti to the dinner table, placing it next to the platter of garlic bread.
“It’s only temporary. She’s moving out in August.” I reach for the tongs and she slaps my hand away.
“Wait for your brother to get here.” She takes a seat across from me and folds her napkin on her lap, the same way she’s done for as long as I can remember. “Tell me about this girl. What’s she like?” Her dark eyes hold excitement, her tone eager. Oh God, I can already see the matchmaking wheels turning in her head. Probably picturing her future nonexistent grandchildren. Are all moms this desperate for their children to settle down? I’m only twenty for Christ’s sake. I glance over at my dad at the head of the table, but he’s no help, sitting there dicking around on his phone as usual.
“She’s not my type, Mom.”
“I didn’t say anything.” She holds her hands up in defense, eyes widening in mock surprise. “Though heaven forbid you date someone ‘not your type’,” she mimics me, her short, dark curls bouncing as she moves her head. “As far as I can tell, your type hasn’t worked out all that well for you.”
Looking back at the girls I’ve casually dated, I have to confess she’s right, but I’m not admitting that to her. I pick up my fork, tapping out a beat on the rim of the plate.
“Well,” she prompts.
I shrug, unsure what to say. My initial impression of Sam wasn’t holding up as well anymore. Listening to her and Audrey talk this morning, some of her tastes had fallen right in line with mine. Audrey had given me a few sidelong glances every time Sam mentioned a band or movie she knew I liked, but thankfully kept her mouth shut. I didn’t need to invite any further conversation. I already don’t know what had prompted me to pay for her laundry earlier. She had just seemed so resigned to the fact she couldn’t wash it. Not angry or frustrated. Just accepted it and moved on. That, to me, was even sadder.
It sounded like she worked hard and didn’t take things for granted. And the weirdest thing was that she only moved in with a single duffel bag of stuff. I don’t think Audrey could even fit the contents of her bathroom into something that small. Where was she coming from to have so few possessions with her?
Well, Mom expects some kind of description. “She’s tall. Blonde.” I won’t mention anything about the fact that she’s pretty. She’ll zero in on that right away. “Works as a waitress at that diner on Washington with the striped awning.”
“That’s it?”
“What else do you want me to say? I’ve lived with her for one day.”
“Why don’t you invite her over to dinner next week?” She pats my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Give us a chance to get to know her.” She looks over her shoulder at my brother entering the dining room, finally gracing us with his presence. “Ah, Aaron’s here.”