Drying Off

The driving rain has soaked me to the skin. I walk along the dark road, looking for a place to shelter. There are streetlights in the distance, perhaps a small town. My so-called boyfriend kicked me out of the car a few miles back and took my phone and my purse with him. Asshole. He was upset that I wanted to stop at a motel and get a good night’s sleep for once. I bet he finds a motel for himself while I get pneumonia.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, we’ve had fights like this before. I carry money in my pockets at all times now. I have enough to get something to eat and drink if there’s anywhere open. Since I don’t have my phone, I don’t know what time it is, but I’m guessing it’s well past midnight. Small towns do not have all night diners. I pass a bar and grille. The sign announces it is called The Salty Dog – not an unusual name for the coast. But the windows are dark and it’s already closed for the night. I hunch my shoulders even more and continue walking.

Another quarter mile of scattered closed storefronts, and I see lights at the side of the road. There is no noise coming from it, but lights could mean open doors, so I hurry towards the building. It turns out to be a 24-hour laundromat. Sighing in relief, I pull the door open and step inside. The unmistakable smell of harshly-perfumed laundry detergent and fabric softener hits my nose, but my skin feels the warm dry air, and it’s like stepping into a hug. The fluorescent lights give the place a cheery but impersonal appearance.

There is no one else in here, and I don’t know whether I’m pleased or disappointed about that. I walk around slowly, taking stock of my makeshift motel room. Someone was here recently. There is a load of laundry in one of the dryers. I open the door and feel the contents. The laundry is only very slightly warm. There seem to be towels and blankets, all old with bare patches and some holes. Perhaps someone did an illicit load of dog blankets here while there was no one on duty to stop them.

I try the door to the back room, expecting it to be locked. But my luck seems to have changed. The room itself is small and dark, and there is a small table and a plastic chair in there. I don’t want to be accused of stealing, so I don’t venture into it.

There is a TV playing in the corner. It’s hung from the ceiling and surrounded by a cage to prevent theft, and it has no sound, but hey, there are moving pictures to keep me amused. In another corner is a machine selling bleach, fabric softener, and detergent. Conveniently located in the opposite corner is a machine that will provide change for banknotes or for a credit card. Bingo! I hurry over to it and change a twenty. Then I purchase fabric softener sheets, and put my hoodie and my socks and shoes into a dryer with one.

Now I’m barefoot on the floor, but at least I’m not getting trench foot. After a brief discussion with myself about morals, I take a dog blanket out of the dryer. Then a towel. I let myself into the back room, strip off the rest of my clothes, and cover myself with the dog blanket. I add my clothes to the load I have started, then go and sit in the back room with the towel around my feet.

My walk in the rain has tired me out. I don’t want to fall asleep in an open laundromat with no clothes on, but I really need to rest. I close the door so that no one can tell I’m in the room, then sit with my head resting on my arms on the table.

The sound of talking wakes me. I look around. The door is still closed, and my money and credit card are on the table where I left them when I emptied my pockets. But I’m naked under a dog blanket, so I’m not ready for visitors. Is this the owner of the blankets I’m wearing? That would be an awkward social encounter. I tiptoe over to the door and listen carefully.

I hear the muttering and shuffling noises of a drug deal going down. That’s good news for me, as long as they leave without checking out my laundry or trying this door. Inevitably, because I’m trying to keep quiet, I want to sneeze. I clamp my nostrils with my thumb and forefinger and carefully sit down with my back firmly against the door. Just as I hear feet moving away, the muffled sneeze comes out. The sound is quite soft, but it’s late at night, and all sounds carry, even in a laundromat.

“Who’s that?” I feel the door being pushed.

I can only think of one way to get rid of them.

“Aah!” I moan. “Yes, yes, do it!”

I bang against the door with my back and grunt in a deep voice. I continue to play both roles for a few more seconds, and then I hear laughing from the other side of the door, someone says “Keep it up, Milo!” and then the footsteps retreat. I keep up with my solo performance for a while longer, then finish with satisfied moans. I listen carefully but I can’t hear a sound outside the door.

But I am wide awake now, the adrenalin has carved its way through my nervous system. After a few minutes of silence, I stand up and crack open the door. The laundromat is empty again, and I sigh with relief. Looking around carefully, I shuffle over to my dryer and check the contents. The tee-shirt, underwear and socks seem dry, so I take those out and take them back to the back room. I may not be fully dressed, but I feel more in control with some clothes on. I put the dog towel into the dryer with the hoodie, jeans and shoes so I can return it to the load of laundry I “borrowed” it from. I keep the blanket wrapped around me for warmth and comfort.

There is a plastic bag someone had abandoned on top of one of the machines. I put my money and credit card into it and take a seat on one of the plastic chairs facing the TV. There is a 1980’s movie playing on the soundless set, and I do my best to imagine the dialog. John Cusak is holding a boombox above his head when someone walks into the laundromat behind me. I don’t look around. When you’re all alone in a strange place, pretend to be invisible. Whatever you do, don’t look like a victim.

I hear a dryer open. Oh dear. The owner of the dog blankets has come to collect their laundry. There is silence for a short while, then a young man walks between me and the TV set. He’s about my age, nice looking, but he doesn’t look pleased to see me. He looks at me, taking in my ensemble of underwear, dog blanket, and plastic bag/handbag, then says “Nice blanket. Where’d you get it?”

He doesn’t seem threatening. Honesty seems like a good policy. “I borrowed it in the hope that I’d have it dry again by the time anyone came to get it. My clothes are in the dryer, I was soaked through.”

I attempt a smile, which he doesn’t return. “There’s a towel missing as well.”

“I’ve finished with it. It’s in the other dryer with my stuff. Go ahead, check it out.”

He saunters over to my dryer, opens it and examines the contents. He takes out the hoodie and jeans and the dog towel, then lets it start up again with just the shoes inside. He comes back and sits beside me, putting my clothes on the chair between us. “Get dressed, and I’ll put the blanket in to dry.”

I walk to the back room, closing the door behind me, and put my clothes on. Then I go to my dryer and throw the blanket in. I add another coin to make sure that everything gets dry.

“Shit,” he says softly, then walks over to the back room, takes out a key and locks it.

Now I’m embarrassed. “Oh, I’m so sorry. It wasn’t locked, so I used it as a changing room. I didn’t take anything, I promise. I bought dryer sheets from the machine.”

He’s still looking at me without smiling. I feel compelled to explain. “My boyfriend and I had a row, and he threw me out of the car a few miles back. This was the first place I found to take shelter from the rain. I started the dryer, then hid in there. I think a drug dealer was here while I was in there. Umm I pretended to be having sex in there so he wouldn’t come in and find me all alone.”

His face breaks into a grin. “So now my boss is going to want to know who I had in here tonight. Good job. I wasn’t supposed to leave the place unattended. We’ll call that evens for ‘borrowing’ my dog’s belongings.”

I am very relieved. I put out my hand. “Jools,” I said. “It’s nice to meet you. Are you supposed to put dog blankets in the dryers?”

He shakes my hand. “Milo. No. Anyway, what kind of jerk puts his girlfriend out in the rain in the middle of the night out here?”

“An ex-boyfriend of mine. I hope he got a flat tire in the middle of nowhere.”

Milo nods. “I get off work at eight. Let’s get our stuff out when the dryer finishes and go to breakfast. I mean, since we’ve apparently already had sex, it seems only right. Did we enjoy it, by the way?”

“Yes, very much. You should have heard the sound effects.” I start to relax. A pleasant ending to a very unpleasant night.