The first two months of freedom went by so quickly. She had no trouble finding a job back in her hometown. Her mom and dad had been so supportive and encouraging. She couldn’t remember now why she thought they wouldn’t want to back in their lives.
The envelope with most of the money Sister margaret had given her was tucked inside a book on her bedroom shelf. She was saving it for something emergencies.
Boxes covered her bed. Clothes, many still on hangers, were draped over the foot board. She was unpacking from the move into her new apartment. By the weekend she would be settling in and on her own.
The change in her life in such a short time was stunning, and she couldn’t be happier.
The last box of dishes was waiting for her in the kitchen. It was getting late and she didn’t have anything in the refrigerator, so the plan was to order pizza. She would christen her apartment with a medium beef and extra cheese, and wine chaser. The bottle of merlot her parents had gifted her as sitting on the counter. Unwrapping a set of wine glasses, she set one out for later.
Picking up her phone, the one she got with part of the debit account the shelter provided, she called in her dinner order. Set up in her parent’s name, she was careful about giving out the number. Nothing was in her name, an effort to hide from her convicted abuser.
She was putting plates in the cabinet when her door bell rang. At first she panicked, then realized it must be the delivery guy with her pizza. Grabbing her wallet, she went to answer the door, checking the peephole first, then unlocking the deadbolt and chain. Her dad insisted she double lock all her doors and replaced window locks with more substantial latches.
Taking the box, she handed the teen her debit card.
“Sorry, ma’am. I have to take either a check or cash.”
“No problem, just wait right here. I’ll be right back.”
Putting the pizza on the kitchen counter, she headed into her bedroom. Pulling the envelope from the shelf she took enough cash out to pay for the pizza and a generous tip. She regretted for a second that one of the bills she was giving away was the odd dollar that was stamped with red lettering on the edge. The first meal in her new home was a special occasion, she knew Sister Margaret would approve.
“Thanks for waiting.”
Handing him the cash, the teen noticed how much she included as a tip.
“Wow, thanks a lot. You have a great night!”
Closing the door and resetting the locks, she stood there a moment, taking in her surroundings. Letting out a contented sigh, she stepped forward into her future.
—
The last tip of the night pushed him over the record. Ralph would have bragging rights for a long time, and the other drivers had to buy him the first round of beers.
Hanging out in bars wasn’t what Ralph wanted to do after work, but knew the other guys would rag him unmercifully if he didn’t go, especially since they were celebrating his good fortune. If he had to waste a night drinking, at least he wasn’t wasting his own money to do it.
If it had been his choice, he would be home, reading a good book.
Ralph had plans for his life. Plans that didn’t end in his car, with a cheesy lighted sign on the roof, delivering pizza to drunk frat boys and horny housewives. He wanted more, wanted better. He wanted to learn a useful trade and be proud of his job.
During the day, when his co-workers were sleeping off the previous night’s drunk, he was at tech school, honing his mechanic skills. In a few weeks he would begin a series of certification exams, and once he passed those, a promised position at a specialized garage tuning luxury cars. His entry level salary four times what he makes driving for Big Joe’s Pizza.
After his first beer, Ralph begged out of another round, telling the gang that he had picked up a day shift and needed to get home to sleep. They still mocked him, but were too intent on their own mugs to care too much.
The night was still and starting to show signs of winter. A chill in the air, chased Ralph to his car so he could some warmth from the heater. The beer doing nothing to fight off the cold. The car, an old Chevy Metro, was a gift from his parents on his 16th birthday. It was one of the last things his mother gave him. Long past its prime, Ralph took advantage of being able to work on it in class to keep it running. When he got his first job, he was going to treat himself to a new car.
Climbing into driver’s side, he checked the dash clock when he cranked the engine. The green glow told him it was too early to go home. He had missed the window that would have been safe. Timing was everything. He either had to get home before the old man started drinking, locking himself in his room, or else he had to be late enough that his dad passed out, oblivious to Ralph’s return home. It wasn’t late enough yet, he would have to kill a couple of hours.
Remembering the pillow case of dirty laundry in the trunk, a trip to the Laundromat should work out just right. Ralph could wash his clothes and study for his exams in-between loads.
He opened his glove box, pulling out some of his cash tips from the night. He would need cash for the machines and a little extra for a soda and sandwich. Tucking the money into his front pocket, he checked the clock once more, then headed to the Suds and Subs. Ralph was looking forward to his usual cheese steak sub, he was sick of pizza by now.
Rolling into the parking lot of the 24-hour deli-slash-laundry, Ralph couldn’t help but remember trips there with as a little kid with his mother on Saturday mornings.
They would let his dad sleep late after working a late shift at the factory. The deli served a very tasty English muffin, cheese omelet sandwich. Together with a tall glass of orange juice, and a steaming mug of coffee, he would tell his mother about school, about his friends, and she would share stories from her week with him.
Ralph, though little for his age, would help stuff the washing machines and put the quarters in the slots. It was like magic. They would simply disappear and the hot water would rush in, filling the tub. His mother would shake powder over the wet clothes and shut the lid. Ralph would climb on top, pretending to read his comic books while his mother sat in a nearby plastic chair, reading her grocery store tabloids.
His favorite laundry chore was folding the warm towels, fresh from the dryer. Ralph would watch the clothes tumbling in the drum as intently as any Saturday morning cartoon. When it finally stopped turning, his mother would open the doors, and Ralph would beginning pulling the towels out, still hot from the huge drum. He would bury his face each one, inhaling the fresh scent of clean terry cloth, and bask in the comforting warmth. He didn’t think about how he now came there for the same familiar reasons.
Ralph loved the Laundromat in the winter. It was like an oasis in a desert of snow and icicles. Nights like this one, when the cold windows fogged up from the hot air inside made the room strangely quiet, insulating him from the outside world. Here he could escape the reality of how his life had changed. Where he once found solace in warm towels, and the familiar childhood smells of detergent and fabric softener, he now sought a connection to his happier past. A time before his father was wrung out and tumbled in his nightly bottle of Jack.
He tried to understand his dad’s pain, but he was afraid he was too far into his sorrow. The death of this wife, the only woman he had every loved crushed him. He was too wounded to see his son was grieving the loss of both his parents. One in the sudden, devastating accident, and the other to a slow, excruciating suicide.
The pillow case was dumped out in a wheeled basket, from there Ralph would quickly sort light clothes into one washer and darks into another. He fished out a handful of ones from his pocket, cashing them in at the coin changer for quarters. A few he used to buy small individual boxes of soap, careful to get the brand he always used. Once the machines had started the first wash cycle, Ralph walked over to the deli, greeting Patsy behind the counter.
“Hey kiddo, how’s it going tonight.”
“Not too bad, I got a huge tip on my last run tonight and I’m splurging on a cheese steak. Can you hook me up darlin’?”
“If you keep calling me darlin’, you can have anything you want.”
Patsy only admitted to being 10 years Ralph’s senior, but from the tiny lines around her eyes, and the layers of make up she slathered on, he guessed she was really closer to 20. She and his mother had been close friends. His mom’s passing had been hard on her too. Since then she was taken on the mother role with Ralph, making sure she asked about his week whenever he came it, like his mom did on the Saturday morning trips to the deli.
While she made his sandwich, Patsy asked about school and Ralph told her he was beginning his certification exams soon. He had his books out in the car and after he finished eating he was going to study while he waiting on this clothes to dry.
She asked about how work was going, and he bragged about his job offer. Patsy ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ just like his mother would have done. She asked if he planned to move out once he got the new job, and he didn’t know how to answer.
“I’m really not sure.”
“What’s stopping you? That old man of yours?”
“No, he’s got no idea about school or the job. He’s barely able to get to his own job. I just don’t know what would happen to him if I leave.”
“You tried to get him help before, I tried to help him. You didn’t know that did you?”
Ralph just stared at her. He thought he was the only one trying to get through to his dad.
“After your mom died, I knew his drinking was going to get out of control. He was a heavy drinker before he and your mom got married. He stopped for her, and that was the only reason. When she passed, he didn’t have any reason not to. Not even you could have stopped him. He’s given up.”
“If I leave, I don’t know if he’ll survive.”
“If you stay, you might not.”
“I just don’t know what to do. This job offer is awesome. I would be making enough to live on my own, get a better car, anything I want. But, what do I do about dad?”
“Ralphy, your mom wouldn’t want you to sacrifice your future for him. If he wants to self-destruct you can’t stop him. He has to want help before he’ll accept it.”
“But, I’m all he has left. He’s all I got.”
“That’s not true, Ralphy! You’ve got me. Your mom asked me to watch over you and that’s what I’m doing. The only way you can help him now, is to get on with your life and not let him destroy you too.”
“I just don’t know!”
“Trust me on this Ralphy. You can still keep an eye on your old man, I’ll drop in on him too. But, baby… you’ve got your whole life ahead of you, don’t waste it. Your mom would hate that.”
Patsy put the sandwich on the counter in front of Ralph, along with tall glass of soda.
“You eat up, then finished your wash. Don’t worry about folding them, I’l do that while you study. It’s slow, it’ll give me something to do.”
Ralph stood up on the rungs of the stool, reaching across the counter to hug Patsy.
“You’re the best darlin’!”
After finishing his dinner, Ralph went out to his car to gety his text books. Laying them out on an empty end of the diner counter, he went back to the washers to switch the wet clothes into the dryers.
He had one more load of dark clothes to run, but wanted to wait until his first load was dry. He would change out of his work clothes to add to the last wash load, putting on a clean pair of pants and a shirt. When he dropped his jeans into the washer, he forgot to check the pockets. His last dollar bill, the one with the red ink stamped on the edge, was still in his front pocket. When he pulled the wet clothes out he didn’t notice the bill plastered against the side of the drum, and just threw that last load into the dryer.
As Patsy folded his clothes and they both waited for the final dryer to finish, Ralph read over the exam material, asking her to quiz him from the workbook. They only looked up once when a young woman came in with her own bag of dirty clothes. Ralph absently noticed she chose the same washers he used, before turning his attention back to his textbooks.
While Ralph read about transmissions and radiators, exhaust systems and carburetors, his father was tipping back a bottle of Tennessee distilled whisky. Dropping the empty on the floor beside his recliner, he slowly lost consciousness. His last thought before completely passing out was of the woman who loved him and left him alone with his demons.
