The machine rotates as I stare blankly at it. It's not hot, just muggy. MTV Jams plays faintly in the background. The laundromat isn’t too crowded, but it’s busy enough. Some dude, two machines over, laughs obnoxiously at his phone. An old lady across from me eyes me like I’m about to snatch her purse.
A mom frantically loads four huge bags of clothes into the machines while her three kids run wild around the place. It's only been ten minutes, but I’m ready to dip. The seats are hard, and the floor’s sticky. I only came here 'cause it’s close.If you listen closely, you can hear the rain tapping against the roof, the low rumble of thunder behind it.
Outside, the sky is this crayon-gray color, leaving me feeling as dull as it looks. The air’s thick with the smell of laundry detergent and something else—a hint of heartbreak, at least to me. Every time I come here, it feels like my heart is getting tossed in with the dirty clothes. And then it hits me: maybe I’m just that guy—the one who doesn’t get the girl. Maybe I’m destined to be alone.
Or worse, maybe I won’t find someone until I’m like fifty. Damn, that’s a long time.I know I haven’t been here long, but it feels like hours. The seats still hurt, the floor’s still sticky, and then I see her. Erika. She’s brown-skinned, smart, serious. She’s here, in my presence, in the same air I’m breathing.
I must be tripping, but it’s like the room lights up everywhere she goes. Crazy. She’s the girl who did all her work in class, got good grades, graduated, went to college, and just kept winning.Me? I was the loner, the stoner, skipping class and writing raps. If it wasn’t for my mom, I probably wouldn’t have even graduated.
And yet, here I am, and there’s Erika. God must be showing me a sign. I’ve got to go for it.She’s standing at the dryer, moving her wet clothes over, and I can’t help but strategize. What do I say?
I could remind her how she let me copy her notes in high school. Or maybe mention the time she chose Cornelius to go to the dance. I was gonna ask her, but I waited too long, and then just didn’t go. Doesn’t matter. No more hesitation.
I grab my clothes and head to the dryer next to hers.My heart’s pounding harder than the rain outside, but I’m playing it cool. Pretty sure she hasn’t noticed me yet, but that’s fine. I’m about to change that. Just as I’m about to speak, she sits down at one of the chairs and rests her head on the table.
For a second, I feel blocked off, but I’m not backing down. I tap her on the shoulder.She lifts her head, her expression serious at first, but then she smiles. My heart slows a little. I tell her she looks beautiful—not too nervous, not too direct.
She asks for my name. “It’s Leon. We had a couple classes together back in the day,” I say, super chill. Her face lights up, and mine does too. For a moment, it’s like the laundromat disappears.
No dirty clothes, no muggy air, just me and her, floating in space. It’s perfect. She says she remembers me, kinda. Then she gets quiet, and I know I have to keep this going. “So what are you doing after this?” I ask with a smile.“
Going home!” she says, playfully aggressive, flashing a grin. I already know her name, but I ask anyway. “Just to be sure, your name’s Erika, right?”She laughs a little.
“Yes! Oh, you really do remember me,” she says, looking shy for a second. Lord, I’m gonna marry this girl. It’s time to go for the kill.“So, can I get your number?” I say quickly, hoping to sound confident.“
I’ll give you my Instagram,” she shoots back with a quick smile.
Now my brain’s flipping back to loner stoner mode. I’ve been standing here too long. I just want a yes or no. I tell her I’m old school, that I believe in going straight for it—starting with a text. She respects that, gives me her number, but something about it sounds off.
“804-888-9992.” It sounds like one of those numbers from a mattress commercial. I give her that “I hope this is real” look, and she hits me with the “it’s real” face back. Both of our machines beep at the same time, snapping us back into reality. We’re back in the laundromat, but it feels brighter, lighter.As I bag my clothes, I tell her I’m gonna text her.
She smiles, says okay. And as I walk away, time slows down. The building feels warmer. My soul can breathe again. I walked in with dirty clothes and a heart full of doubt. Her smile cleaned it all up.
God really works in mysterious ways. You just never know if you don’t try. And yeah, maybe that was like keeping my heart from falling off a cliff. I can’t explain what that means, but that’s exactly how it felt.