NINA

When the washing machine ate her last quarter, Tania wanted to squat down and cry with her face on her knees.  Cry till her nose ran everywhere.  Till her hair plastered to her face and her body went soft, heavy and warm.  But some prissy lady was sitting right there in the wobbly row of attached chairs.  They reminded her of the bus station in Hartford, which was littered with crumpled styrofoam cups, lit up with ads for cigarettes and trips to Florida.

Tania hated to look stupid.  She wanted to be the respected one who her friends looked to for advice, the stunning one who walked down the street and caused people to move to the side. At the moment her quarter vanished, however, Tania’s three missing teeth, the yellow-green purple around her eyes, and the peeling scab along her forehead made her feel pathetic and gross.  So as the last quarter from the two bucks she’d changed fell into the slot and nothing started, Tania just stood still. The hum and swish of the other washing machines and the clicking of buttons and zippers in the dryers felt like someone tapping and tapping her shoulder. And there sat that lady reading her book.

The last five dollar bill Tania had until she got paid on Friday was crinkled deep into the linty pocket of her black pants.  Managers at the grocery store made all the baggers and stockers wear black pants, but not the checkout clerks.  They got to wear whatever pants they wanted.  Her shift began in two hours and Ronny had promised her a ride. He’d be back soon and expected his clothes to be done. He had even given her a couple quarters from the plastic ashtray under the sink.  Fucking shit, she thought.

"I don’t need this right now, that’s for sure.  This piece of shit."  Tania pounded on the clammy change-return button as she shouted.  "It won’t give me my money back."

The lady didn’t say anything.  She sat there, brow furrowed at her book. Her left ankle twisted to the left and down, to the left and down so her foot bounced like the cap on a truck’s exhaust chimney.

Tania turned away from the machine.  She couldn’t look at the useless stealing hunk of junk.  On the opposite wall, a sign draped with dusty strings listed the prices for small and large washers.  Spatters of brown and yellow gunk speckled the surface.  When Tania paced to the other end of the room and back, her sneakers crunched grit, brushed a grayed piece of tubesock.

"These aren’t even my clothes," she said.  "I just told my friend I’d do his laundry for a ride to work. It’s too fucking cold to walk the two miles ya know.  Now this."

The book lady glanced up and then back to her lap while closing the book on her finger.  "The machines in here are always broken, but no one puts signs up or anything.  Every time I come in here, someone loses money." She opened her book and began reading again.

"Yeah, I was warned about this place, but the guy who’s giving me a ride lives across the street in the motel, so I came over here."  Tania faced the lady and pointed to her mouth.  "He didn’t do this to me though.  No.  I wasn’t with him.  I was in New Haven and my friend told me she was okay to drive home to Wallingford, but it was snowing and she didn’t look in her blind spot.  You know how everyone’s got that blind spot and you need someone to help you look over that shoulder especially in the snow but she just went ahead and tried to pass on the right but it was a four-lane highway so that should be okay but the cops said it was her fault."

Tania stopped and shrugged at the lady, who was looking right at her.

"That’s awful.  Car accidents are so scary."

"Yeah, there were cops and ambulances and all that.  I’m suing her insurance company cuz I’m not living like this for the rest of my life, missing teeth and shit."  She confronted the washing machine again, pounded the change-return button four more times.  "Now I gotta use my last five bucks damn it.  I do not need this today, not at all."

The change machine always worked and turned out another twenty quarters. Tania put two of them into the washer, punched the slot, and kicked the round latched door. "God damn it!"  Her eyes closed, then glared at the ceiling.  "I thought maybe I’d counted wrong and it just needed more money.  Now I gotta take the bastard’s clothes out and they’re all set in there with detergent and everything. This morning I cleaned up the mess he made with the hotplate too. But he did cook the eggs and sausage."

A bookmark with a yellow tassel saved the lady’s spot as she laid her book on the chair next to her and gestured around the room.  "Before I put my clothes in, I look for the machines that still have water on the sides of the tub.  That way I know it works."

"I guess I’ll have to take—" Tania said through her clenched jaw as she opened the washer door, "his clothes—" and yanked out a wad of tangled jeans and t-shirts and underwear with puckered waistbands, "and put them into this one." She placed ten quarters on the machine. "I’m counting my money this time.  They don’t fucking need any more of it. Look at this dumbass complaint box here.  How does that help me now, huh? I mean how does that help me?  They got nobody in here or anything."

The buzzer on dryer 12 screeched and the lady got up, folded her clothes, and piled them into a white plastic laundry basket. As soon as she was done, she opened dryer 7, waited until it stopped, and felt inside. She pushed her underwear into the bottom of the basket, paired her socks into balls, and pressed each sheet corner to corner.

A car pulled through the parking lot and spit up gravel. Watching it roll over the end of a snow bank peppered with black, Tania imagined walking out the door and sticking out her thumb. She could get in another car with another guy to some other place.

The lady went back to the three chairs and placed her book on top of the laundry. There was a knot of hair caught on the sleeve of her coat, the first flaw in her appearance. Tania smiled about it.

"I could give you a ride to work. If you want one, if you want to save your quarters. I don’t work until the dinner shift at Andy’s so I don’t mind.  It’s not out of my way or anything."  She stared at her full laundry basket before raising her eyes to peek at Tania.  Tania saw the opening, the hope.

"Oh no, but thanks."

The lady watched Tania then turned her head away, saying into her shoulder, "I just wanted to offer, just in case."

"Yeah, thanks a lot but I don’t have to work for another hour and a half. I don’t want to sit in the lounge for that long.  And anyway, here’s Ronny now, getting outta that green car there.  He’s letting me stay with him for a while too.  A few nights.  Hey Ronny, this place sucks you know. That machine ate my quarters."

"Well hello to you too beautiful!"  He stopped and spread his empty hands out to the side.  "Now let me take a look at the machine honey.  Which one is it?"  Ronny hiked his faded jeans up over skinny hips as he shuffled toward Tania. Something on him smelled bitter.  "You know I need this laundry done sweetheart.  Right.  I got no more skivvies."  He pinched the back of Tania’s arm as he spoke.

The lady picked up her basket and headed for the door.  Tania called to her, "Listen, thanks for the offer. I appreciate that."

"You’re right beautiful, this change return is jammed.   How in the
hell..."

Her car started up right away, on one try. She sat for a few minutes, observing the woman’s bruised face through the streaked laundromat window.  Music from the AM radio lodged in the air around her as the car warmed up, and the purple and lavender scarf scratched her chin when she reached for the gear shift.