blue eyes

Chapter 14

Brandon:
Once again, Brandon was watching Zoe disappear into the crowd as fast as she could. He still didn't understand what made her run away from him. He'd felt her tense up a few times in the conversation, but she'd always come back down from it.
He smiled thinking about getting to hold her hand. He knew she wasn't paying attention when it happened, but he'd been thrilled when she slowly turned her hand over and intertwined their fingers. He'd watched for the moment she noticed the change, watched her look down and study the perfect way their hands fit together. He'd been expecting her to panic and recoil, but she hadn't.
With a smile on his face, he slowly made his way to his bus stop, just in time for a bus to pull up. He smiled most of the ride home, thinking about how Zoe had agreed to be his date to George's wedding. She'd been so chill about it, too. Did she say that she'd been to a homeless wedding before? I wonder why. She'd zoned out again after that, so Brandon decided not to ask her about it. ~If she wants to, she'll tell me about it. I'm not going to force her hand.~
Brandon got off the bus one stop early and walked straight to the laundromat. He had two and a half hours before his shift, which should be just enough time to get these clothes washed and dried. He exchanged a few ones for quarters, then walked over to the washers and froze. He'd never used one before. Bruce had taken his clothes home and washed them the night he'd moved in.
"Need a hand, hon?"
Brandon turned around and found the woman who'd given him quarters smiling up at him. Her name tag said Carol. Brandon blushed and nodded.
"Plenty of people get to adulthood without ever figuring these machines out," Carol said without an ounce of condescension. "To start with, we should probably walk over to the washers. Unless you just want to warm up your clothes."
Brandon looked from Carol to the machines in front of him in horror. These are dryers? I'm in way over my head.
Carol laughed and gestured for him to follow her. They walked over to the opposite end of the room.
"These are the washers," Carol explained. "Your clothes go in here, detergent in here, chooser your cycle, and then your money goes in here. It has to be that order."
"I don't have any detergent," Brandon replied, unable to process the steps past that.
"I've got some you can use," Carol smiled. "Let me go get it."
Brandon set his bag on the counter next to the washer and pulled out the clothes. He pulled the tags off and dropped them back into the bag.
"Here you go, sugar," Carol came back with a bright orange jug. "Did you check all the pockets? I don't want any garbage getting stuck in my machines."
"Oh, no, but I will," Brandon replied, quickly going through each piece. He found a crumpled up piece of paper in one pair of jeans and a ticket stub in one of the shirt pockets. The rest were empty. When he'd finished, he looked to Carol for the next instructions.
"Put each piece in the wash, one at a time," Carol said. "That'll help 'em not to get all tangled up. There you go, just like that."
Once it was loaded, Carol picked up the jug and poured some of the liquid into the cap.
"Only pour to this line," she said, holding out the cap so Brandon could see. "Too much will make the suds overflow, which is a slippery mess I don't want to have to deal with again."
"Yes, ma'am," Brandon nodded.
"Pour the liquid in here," Carol said, handing the cap to Brandon and pulling out a little drawer. "There you go, now push it all the way back in and close the machine. Okay so, you've got mostly dark things, so you'll want to wash them cold. An extra rinse might be good, too, and doesn't cost any extra."
Carol turned the dials as she talked, making the arrows point to COLD and EXTRA RINSE. Brandon read the rest of the options and immediately regretted that. Who knew laundry could be so complicated?
"Alright, now put your quarters in there," Carol said.
Brandon looked where Carol was pointing and saw a slot system just like a gum ball machine. He loaded four quarters in and pushed the thing in. When it came back out, the quarters were gone and the machine rumbled to life. Brandon flinched a little.
Carol laughed and patted him on the back before walking back to her position behind the counter.
"I'll come back for your dryer lesson in 30 minutes," she called over her shoulder. "Save the bag to carry everything home. There's magazines and books in the corner."
Brandon looked around and found the corner she was talking about. There was one woman sitting over there already. She looked tired, lost in a magazine. Two young kids were playing with cars on the floor nearby. Brandon took one last look at his clothes swirling around in the washer, then walked over to the bookshelf.
There weren't a ton of books on the shelf. Just before he gave up and settled for a magazine instead, he saw that one of the books on the shelf had the same logo on the spine as Zoe's ID. A Galaxy Apart by Ashley Lamont. He pulled it off the shelf and crinkled his nose a little when he saw the cover. Two alien-looking people were drifting in space, tangled in a loving embrace. He hesitated for a moment, then decided to give it a try.
To his horror, Brandon got sucked right into the story. Even though it was so far from what he usually liked to read, he couldn't put it down. Chapters flew by. He got lost in space right along with the protagonist.
"Excuse me, sugar," Carol said.
"Oh god, sorry," Brandon flinched, putting the book down and trying to hide the cover.
"Don't apologize," Carol gave him a knowing smile. "Those books are trashy, but so addictive. Come on, your laundry is done."
Brandon followed her back to the machine, then realized that he was still carrying the book. He quickly stowed it in the bag and turned his attention to Carol, who had rolled up a basket on wheels, with some wire hangers on a rack above it.
"I noticed that you had a few pairs of jeans in there," Carol said, gesturing to the washer. "You won't want to dry those all the way. You can hang them here and roll this in front of the fan while everything else dries."
Brandon opened the door and found that somehow the clothes were definitely damp, but not sopping wet. Carol gestured for him to put the clothes into the basket. Once he'd gotten everything out, he grabbed his bag and followed Carol across to the dryers.
Carol explained how the dryers worked and handed him a few weird spiky balls to put in with the clothes. He had questions, but decided to just trust her. Once the dryer was loaded, she showed him what settings to use, where to put his quarters, then walked away. She'd told him to let his jeans "tumble" for 20 minutes, then to take them out. He thought about getting the book out, but decided against it. Instead, he walked over to the TV. There was a baseball game on. He looked down at his watch to figure out when he needed to get his jeans out, then sat down to watch some of the game.
Less than an inning later, Brandon checked his watch and realized it was time to get his jeans out. He took a step towards the dryer, then hesitated.
"Just open the door," Carol called out. "The dryer will stop automatically. Pull your jeans out, then when you close the door again, it'll start back up."
"That seems too easy," Brandon laughed.
"Laundry isn't difficult," Carol replied. "Once someone shows you how."
"Thank you," Brandon smiled.
He walked over and opened the door. The dryer stopped almost instantly, just like Carol said it would. As the momentum of the dryer slowed, one of the spiky balls flew out of the dryer and bounced across the floor. Brandon chased after it. He definitely hadn't been expecting that. Carol laughed from behind the counter. Brandon waved with the ball, then walked back to his dryer. He tossed the ball back in and fished the jeans out, then closed the door.
The dryer started up again immediately. Brandon could hear the balls bouncing around in there more now, since there were less clothes. He draped each pair of jeans awkwardly onto a hanger, then looked around for the fan. He rolled the cart over and positioned it so that the jeans were blowing gently in the wind, then walked over to Carol.
"What do the balls do?"
"They help fluff the clothes," Carol explained. "Fabric softeners aren't good for your clothes or my machines, but the balls help. Some people use wool balls, too, but they're more expensive to replace when people accidentally take them home."
"Oh," Brandon nodded. "I honestly thought you were messing with me. Glad to find out that they serve an actual purpose."
"I don't joke about laundry," Carol said. "These machines are my babies and they're expensive to fix."
"That makes sense," Brandon replied.
Someone else walked up behind Brandon and needed quarters, so he moved quickly out of the way and wandered back towards the baseball game.
A few innings later, he heard a buzzing noise. He looked around for the source. Carol caught his eye and pointed towards his dryer. He walked over and saw that the machine had stopped. He opened the door and felt the clothes. They were hot and dry. He took each thing out and folded it, placing them one at a time. Then he walked over and felt his jeans. They were still a little damp.
"Hang them up when you get home," Carol appeared next to him. "They'll dry soon."
"Oh, thank you," Brandon replied, taking each pair down and folding them.
He walked over to his bag and placed the damp jeans on top of the clean clothes. Then picked the bag up and walked towards the door. He slowed when he got to the counter.
"Thank you for helping me today," Brandon told Carol. "I've honestly never done laundry before. I might've burned the place down without your help."
"I wasn't gonna let that happen," Carol smiled. "See you next time."
Brandon smiled and waved, then walked out. He thought about waiting for the next bus, but looked at his watch and decided to just walk the last few blocks to the bar. He only had half an hour before his shift started.
When he walked in the back door, Ellen was already in the kitchen. She turned and looked as the door opened.
"Oh hi, Brandon," she called from the far side of the island. "Are you hungry? I should have some of this pad Thai ready soon."
"It smells so good," Brandon smiled. "But I have leftovers upstairs I should eat."
"Grab some later, then" Ellen replied. "This is gonna be my best batch yet."
"Sounds good, thanks," Brandon waved as he walked toward the stairs.
When he got upstairs, he immediately pulled the damp jeans out of the bag and looked around for places he could hang them up. Back of the chair, coat rack... I need one more. He scanned the room again, then his eyes locked on the bathroom door. Towel rack. He took the jeans to their temporary hanging spots, then walked over and opened the two windows to hopefully get a breeze going. He also turned the fan on in the bathroom, not sure if it would actually help, but it probably wouldn't hurt.
Once the jeans were secured, Brandon walked over to the fridge and pulled out one of the boxes of Chinese food. He opened it and found beef and broccoli. That worked. Then he walked over to the microwave and popped it in for two minutes.
While the food rotated slowly in the microwave, Brandon walked back over to the bag of clothes and started pulling out the shirts. The top one was a little damp from the jeans, so he spread it out on the table. The others he hung up on the random hangers that were left in the coat closet, which also happened to be the only closet. He picked a green plaid flannel to wear for work.
Looking at the time, he saw that he had 20 minutes to eat. He walked back into the kitchen and got out a glass, which he filled with water from the sink. He took a sip, then set it on the counter. The microwave went off a few seconds later. He pulled out the food and grabbed his chopsticks from the night before. He turned to eat at the table, but there was a shirt spread out on the table and jeans hanging over the chair.
Brandon walked over to the couch and sat down. He'd been pleasantly surprised by his chopstick skills last night, finding them just a little bit rusty. He could feel a cold spot on the bottom of the container, so he stirred the food all together, hoping to distribute the heat, then ate quickly. Anxious to not be late, he glanced at the time on the microwave at regular intervals. He was finished eating seven minutes later. He threw the container in the trash, but left the chopsticks by the sink again. They were cheap, but plastic, so he could rinse them off and use them again later.
He took the green plaid shirt off its hanger and carried it into the bathroom with him. He changed quickly and brushed his teeth. Then grabbed his keys and went downstairs.