“You’re seventy-something. Where exactly are you rushing off to?”
The woman looked to be in her late forties. Well dressed, expensive purse, hair carefully done. She kept checking her phone as if the entire laundromat had personally inconvenienced her.
“You’ll have to wait like everyone else,” I said.
She looked me up and down and laughed.
It wasn’t just that she’d taken my dryer. It was the casual certainty that my time couldn’t possibly matter.
“You’re seventy-something. Where exactly are you rushing off to?”
My face burned.
It wasn’t just that she’d taken my dryer. It was the casual certainty that my time couldn’t possibly matter.
“I’m meeting someone tonight,” she said, carefully placing her dress inside. “An extremely successful man. This date could change my whole life, and I need this dress dry.”
“You probably have nothing waiting for you except daytime television. So yes—you can wait.”
Then she pointed at my laundry.
“You probably have nothing waiting for you except daytime television. So yes—you can wait.”
I stared at her.
“I have plenty waiting for me.”
She gave a sharp little laugh.
At seventy-five, I’d simply learned that some people weren’t worth wasting good arguments on.
“Some old women just can’t accept that nobody cares about their schedule anymore.”
I bit my tongue.
Not because I didn’t have anything to say. At seventy-five, I’d simply learned that some people weren’t worth wasting good arguments on.
She started the dryer.
If she had two hours, I couldn’t understand why thirty seconds had apparently been too much to give me.
Then she spent the next few minutes checking the dress, fixing her lipstick, and bragging loudly enough that half the laundromat could hear her.
“Two hours until my date,” she said, admiring herself in the dark reflection of the dryer door. “Finally, a man worth dressing up for.”
I picked up my book and sat down beside my laundry.
If she had two hours, I couldn’t understand why thirty seconds had apparently been too much to give me.
The woman kept talking anyway.
A college-aged girl folding towels nearby caught my eye.
She shook her head.
I gave her a small shrug.
The woman kept talking anyway.
“We met online.”
“He’s a consultant.”
“Ah.”
“He’s actually very successful.”
I nodded.
“That’s nice.”
“Most men our age on those apps are a disaster.”
“He’s a consultant. Also nice.”
She smiled in a way I couldn’t quite read.
“Most men our age on those apps are a disaster.”
“Our age?” I asked with surprise.
“Divorced. Grown children. Owns his house. Still works because he wants to, not because he has to.”
She paused.
Then she gave me a quick smile.
“I mean people who aren’t twenty anymore.”
I looked back at my book.
Her phone buzzed.
She continued anyway.
“Divorced. Grown children. Owns his house. Still works because he wants to, not because he has to.”
“He sounds accomplished.”
“Exactly.”
Something in my head clicked.
Her phone buzzed.
She checked it and smiled.
“His name is Michael.”
Something in my head clicked.
Michael is not an unusual name.
Not completely.
Just enough to make me look up.
Michael is not an unusual name.
Neither is being divorced.
The woman noticed me looking.
Neither is working as a consultant.
So I said nothing.
The woman noticed me looking.
“What?”
She turned back toward the dryer and smoothed the front of her blouse.
“Nothing.”
She turned back toward the dryer and smoothed the front of her blouse.
“I just hope he’s as impressive in person as he is online.”
“Maybe.”
Her phone slipped from her hand and hit the plastic chair beside her.
She didn’t appreciate my lack of enthusiasm.
Then the front door opened.
I barely looked up.
She did.
The woman’s eyes widened.
Her phone slipped from her hand and hit the plastic chair beside her.
“Oh my goodness.”
I looked toward the entrance.
A man had just walked inside.
Then she looked at me.
The woman’s eyes widened.
“What is he doing here?”
Then she looked at me.
Once.
And the thing is, I recognized him too.
Twice.
Her face went white.
And the thing is, I recognized him too.
Michael.
Now he was standing in the laundromat, looking around for the woman he’d come to meet.
My fifty-year-old son.
That morning, over pancakes, he’d told me he finally had a first date after years of refusing to even consider one. Her name was Vanessa. I’d tried not to make too much of it because I knew how badly his divorce had shaken him, but I’d been quietly thrilled for him all day.
Now he was standing in the laundromat, looking around for the woman he’d come to meet.
“Wait, do you know him?”
And the woman beside me whispered, “That’s Michael.”
I closed my book.
“Yes.”
She stared at me.
She stepped between me and him, opened her purse, and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill.
“Wait, do you know him?”
Before I could answer, Michael looked down at his phone.
Vanessa moved quickly.
She stepped between me and him, opened her purse, and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill.
I looked at the money she was desperately holding out to me.
“I’ll give you this if you don’t mention the dryer.”
I looked at the money she was desperately holding out to me.
Then at her.
“No.”
“You removed my laundry.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“It was a misunderstanding.”
“You removed my laundry.”
“You told me my time didn’t matter because I’m old.”
“I was stressed.”
“You told me my time didn’t matter because I’m old.”
Her eyes darted toward Michael.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
Vanessa shoved the bill back into her purse.
“You said I probably had nothing waiting for me except daytime television.”
“Keep your voice down.”
Michael started walking toward us.
Vanessa shoved the bill back into her purse.
I had about two seconds to decide what I wanted to do.
“Please. Just don’t ruin this.”
I had about two seconds to decide what I wanted to do.
I could have exposed her immediately.
Part of me wanted to.
The word dropped, and Vanessa froze as realization set in.
Then Michael looked up.
“Mom?”
The word dropped, and Vanessa froze as realization set in.
Michael stopped.
I lifted one of my damp shirts.
“What are you doing here?”
I lifted one of my damp shirts.
“My dryer broke.”
He looked at the cart.
His eyes moved to Vanessa.
“Your clothes are still wet.”
“They’ll survive.”
His eyes moved to Vanessa.
Then back to me.
Her smile appeared so suddenly it was almost impressive.
“Wait. You two met?”
Vanessa recovered remarkably fast.
“Oh, barely.”
Her smile appeared so suddenly it was almost impressive.
She bent down and picked up one of my towels.
“We were just sorting out a little misunderstanding.”
She bent down and picked up one of my towels.
“Here, ma’am. Let me help you with these.”
Ma’am.
Now she called me ma’am with a dollop of fake reverence piled on the word.
Five minutes earlier, I was apparently an old woman with nowhere to be.
Now she called me ma’am with a dollop of fake reverence piled on the word.
I watched her fold my towel.
Very badly.
Vanessa laughed too loudly.
Michael smiled.
“Well, this is weird.”
“Very,” I said.
Vanessa laughed too loudly.
Michael looked at the dryer.
“Small world.”
Michael looked at the dryer.
“Is that your dress?”
“Uhm…” She hesitated.
“I figured I’d catch you here before dinner. My afternoon thing wrapped up early.”
“I thought we’d meet at the restaurant. I texted you that I was still at the laundromat, but I didn’t mean you should meet me here” she said.
“I figured I’d catch you here before dinner. My afternoon thing wrapped up early,” he replied. “When you said you were still here, I figured I’d come find you. We could grab coffee before dinner.”
“Mom, come with us.”
“I had a wardrobe emergency.”
He checked the time.
“We’ve got plenty of time. Why don’t we grab coffee next door while it finishes?”
Then he nodded toward me.
“Oh, I don’t want to interrupt your evening.”
“Mom, come with us.”
Vanessa’s smile tightened.
“Oh, I don’t want to interrupt your evening.”
“You aren’t.”
Her expression told me that was the last answer she’d wanted.
She looked at me.
I looked back.
“I’d love coffee,” I said.
Her expression told me that was the last answer she’d wanted.
Vanessa asked about my garden.
At the café, I barely recognized her.
Vanessa asked about my garden.
She asked whether I traveled.
Then she told Michael she believed older family members were “such an important source of wisdom.”
“I hope I’m still as active and independent as you are when I reach your age.”
I nearly inhaled my coffee.
Michael didn’t notice.
“My mom stays busier than I do,” he said.
Vanessa turned to me.
There it was again.
“I hope I’m still as active and independent as you are when I reach your age.”
There it was again.
My age.
I smiled.
She smiled back at me with obvious chagrin.
“How kind.”
She smiled back at me with obvious chagrin.
Michael’s phone rang.
He checked the screen.
The second he stepped outside, Vanessa leaned across the table.
“Sorry. Work.”
He stood.
“I need two minutes.”
The second he stepped outside, Vanessa leaned across the table.
“I shouldn’t have touched your clothes.”
“Look, I had a rough morning.”
I said nothing.
“I shouldn’t have touched your clothes.”
“No.”
“Not until Michael walked in. And that was barely an apology.”
“I apologized.”
“Not until Michael walked in. And that was barely an apology.”
Her lips tightened.
“I just don’t think one bad moment should define someone.”
“Maybe not.”
“If Michael had never walked into that laundromat, would you be apologizing right now?”
“Then can we please forget it?”
I took a sip of coffee.
“If Michael had never walked into that laundromat, would you be apologizing right now?”
She opened her mouth.
Michael returned a minute later.
Nothing came out.
That was my answer.
Michael returned a minute later.
“Everything okay?”
“Actually, Michael, there’s something you should know.”
Vanessa immediately smiled.
“Perfect.”
I put my cup down.
“Actually, Michael, there’s something you should know.”
“I think you should explain it.”
Her smile disappeared.
“Your mother and I already worked it out.”
“I think you should explain it,” I said.
Michael looked between us.
“I accidentally used her dryer.”
“Explain what?”
Vanessa sighed.
“I accidentally used her dryer.”
I shook my head.
“I had been gone thirty seconds.”
“You watched me load it, waited until I walked away, and removed my wet clothes.”
“I thought you were finished.”
“I had been gone thirty seconds.”
Michael’s expression changed.
“Then you told me I had nowhere important to be because I’m seventy-five.”
Vanessa looked embarrassed.
“Fine. I was impatient.”
“Then you told me I had nowhere important to be because I’m seventy-five.”
Michael’s face hardened.
Vanessa looked at him.
“You asked where someone my age could possibly be rushing off to.”
“That’s not exactly what I said.”
“You asked where someone my age could possibly be rushing off to. Then you said I probably had nothing waiting for me except daytime television.”
“Michael, she’s making this sound much worse than it was.”
I nodded.
“So tell him about the hundred dollars.”
Michael looked at her.
She went red.
“What hundred dollars?”
She went red.
“I jokingly offered your mother money because I panicked.”
“You told me you’d give me a hundred dollars if I didn’t mention the dryer.”
“It wasn’t serious.”
“I had a bad day.”
“You took the bill out of your purse.”
Michael leaned back.
He looked at Vanessa for a long moment before speaking.
“Why did you treat her like that before you knew she was my mother?”
Vanessa stared at him.
“I had a bad day.”
He looked tired more than angry.
Michael nodded slowly.
“You were perfectly pleasant to me on the phone.”
She said nothing.
“And you became perfectly pleasant to Mom as soon as you realized who she was.”
“Michael, come on.”
He looked tired more than angry.
“You’re canceling over a dryer?”
“I don’t think we should have dinner tonight.”
Her face fell.
“You’re canceling over a dryer?”
“No.”
His voice stayed calm.
“I’m canceling because of how you treated someone when you thought her opinion didn’t matter.”
“That’s incredibly judgmental.”
Vanessa grabbed her purse.
“That’s incredibly judgmental.”
“Maybe. That’s also ironic of you to say.”
She stood.
“You don’t even know me.”
Michael looked at her.
I didn’t feel triumphant. Mostly, I felt sorry for Michael.
“That’s what tonight was supposed to be for.”
She left without saying goodbye.
I didn’t feel triumphant. Mostly, I felt sorry for Michael.
He stared at his untouched coffee.
“I’m an idiot.”
“No.”
“I told myself I was finally ready.”
“I was actually excited about this.”
“Yes, that’s usually why people ask other people on dates.”
He gave me a tired smile.
“I told myself I was finally ready.”
“You were ready.”
“Great result.”
“Your clothes are probably still wet.”
I reached across the table.
“Wanting to meet someone kind isn’t foolish, Michael. You won’t win on your first try.”
He nodded.
Then he looked toward the laundromat.
“Your clothes are probably still wet.”
“They absolutely are.”
The college girl had rescued my blouse from the edge and folded it neatly on top.
We went back together.
My clothes were still sitting in the cart where Vanessa had dumped them, though the college girl had rescued my blouse from the edge and folded it neatly on top.
“Thank you,” I told her.
She smiled.
“No problem.”
“I’m taking you to dinner.”
Michael loaded my clothes into the dryer while I fed quarters into the machine.
“How long?”
I checked the display.
“Twenty-eight minutes.”
He sighed.
“Fine.”
“Exactly. I already booked out the evening.”
“What?”
“I’m taking you to dinner.”
“You just had a date canceled.”
“Exactly. I already booked out the evening.”
I laughed.
“Next time your dryer breaks, call me.”
As the dryer started turning, Michael picked up my basket.
“Next time your dryer breaks, call me.”
“Why?”
At least he could muster a real laugh at that.
“So you don’t meet my date before I do.”
I looked at him.
“Find nicer dates, and I’ll consider it.”
At least he could muster a real laugh at that.
