Lucy's Launderette (20 page)

“The hand that rocks the cradle, though…” said Sky.

“I dunno,” said Connie, “because you gotta understand, when my grandmother died, I was only ten. My life ended the day she died. Until then, I might have thought women ruled the world. She was a sweet kind woman who let me run free. When I think about her, all I want to do is go out and buy a hit and get stoned and brainless. My parents died a long time ago. Killed when I was one. Car crash. They were both pissed out of their skulls.

“After my grandmother's pathetic little funeral, they put me in a foster home in Portland. I thought it was going to be okay until the day that Rudy, that was my foster father, took me down to see his dry cleaning business. Norma, my foster mother, was too harassed to figure things out. Or maybe she knew, because she treated me in a funny way, like she was sorry about something, making up for something. They only had one kid of their own but Carl was already a teenager. He was a real creepy quiet guy, auto mechanic. Never saw much of him. He was always out tinkering with cars. I'm pretty sure he was scared shitless of Rudy. I heard that Rudy used to beat on him whenever he got the chance, so Carl just avoided him.

“Rudy used to shove me into the bathroom in the back of the dry cleaning place, lock the door and do what he wanted with me. He told me if I ratted on him, he'd torch the business and blame it on me, they'd put me in reform school. Said he could use the insurance money. When I started getting my periods I got pregnant right away. He figured it out, must have been keeping track. Took me to a clinic and got me an abortion. On my fourteenth birthday, I decided to run away. The funny thing was, everybody must have been walking around with sixth and seventh senses because I talked my foster brother, Carl, into giving me a ride all the way to Vegas. He even gave me fifty dollars to see me on my way. He didn't have to do it, but he must have known all along what a shit Rudy had been with me.

“Yeah. Sometimes, I think about him, Rudy I mean, really late at night when I can't sleep…and I hope something really awful has happened to him, like he's crippled and slobbering in a wheelchair, and has home help that sticks it to him every which way. That would drive him nuts because he was a cheap bastard, too. To have him robbed blind in front of his
own eyes and not be able to do anything about that. Yeah, I'd like that.”

“Sending out those kind of negative vibrations are only going to bring them back to you twofold,” said Reebee.

“I know, I know. You keep telling me, but you gotta let me have a few little harmless revenge fantasies.”

Reebee shook her head hopelessly.

“Reebee's got these weird ideas. We been experimenting with all this positive vibe crap. She made me wish for things, like, stop feeling like an insignificant piece of dog poop and feel like somebody people might respect. She says you have to imagine you're already there, respected, what it feels like, what you look like, how other people treat you.

“I was imagining all this ridiculous stuff and we pulled up into a pueblo in New Mexico and no shit, it was like coming home. I started getting all these feelings, about who I was, or could be, and being with brothers and sisters, native people, tribes, in that amazing place…it was mind-blowing.”

Reebee just smiled and nodded.

“Anyways,” Connie went on, “back to the past. After the Rudy stuff, I got to Vegas and it wasn't too difficult to stay alive turning little tricks here and there. The other girls put me onto the drugs. I needed to earn enough money to have my drugs. I tell you, when I smoked heroin for the first time it was like…whoa baby, where have you been all my life? It melts you away, you see. No pain, no worries. I never shot it. I can't stand needles and I didn't want track marks all over my skin, it's not pretty. So there I was, just needing to make enough money so that I could have my drugs, that's all I wanted…you think that's how it is until you find out it's never enough. Never enough money, never enough drugs.

“I got in a bad way one night, got to thinking about my grandmother, the parents I never had and stuff, I guess I
overdid it. Jeremy told me I was curled up in a ball by the side of the road going out of town, said it made him sick the way other people just passed me by. He got me in a taxi only I don't remember any of it. I woke up in a hospital room and asked him why he didn't just let me die, it all would have been easier, and he said it was because he'd been a thorn in people's sides all his life and he wasn't going to stop being one now, besides I looked like someone he'd once known—and I told him, hell she musta been a cheap half-dead bottle-blond junkie, too, by the sounds of it. I guess that would be your grandmother, eh, Lucy?”

“God, I guess so. I never thought about it much because Jeremy never talked about it. About her, I mean.”

Sky said, “Gee, Madison, not everyone has the child-abandoning biker-chick genes that you do.”

“Thanks, Sky, for reminding me.”

“Think nothing of it.”

Connie went on, “Jeremy never let her go. It wasn't what he said about her, it was all he didn't say. And all this awful furniture that he refused to get rid of.”

Reebee said, “If we wipe out the painful memories, sometimes it doesn't leave much. For some people, it's like cancelling an entire life. Jeremy found a way to live with it, to keep it alive. On the other hand, cancer is a very telling disease.”

“I don't know what Jeremy was trying to prove when he got involved with me. I figure maybe he wanted to do something before he died, maybe he knew back then that he was sick. I figure he wanted to do, you know, a good deed, like, save someone. I figured he wanted to be Jesus Christ for a day.”

As we were sitting around the lemon cake, Reebee said, “Now go on, Connie, say it.”

Connie stared at Reebee. The silence was explosive. Then she looked back at me with those new black eyes, and said, “Er, Lucy, I want to know if you would…”

“Go on, ask her,” said Reebee.

“I
want to know if you would stay here with me.”

“Stay here?”

“Keep me company until the baby's born and I can get something else figured out.”

“I…uh…I don't know, Connie.”

I was beginning to long for my apartment again.

“It would be a kind of a job. I mean, you don't have one at the moment, do you?”

“A job? You mean one of those things with a wage attached?”

“Yeah. Now, listen. This is the way I figure it. I don't want to be here alone. Not with a baby. You're the kid's family, too, aren't you? We can talk about your project. Reebee thinks I should go for it.” There was a pleading tone in Connie's voice. Wonders would never cease.

“What do
you
think about it, Connie? Forget about me.
Do
you
want to do it? Because if
you
don't want to do it we might as well not bother.” My body started to tingle with the possibility of realizing my plan.

“It's kind of a crazy idea but I've been thinking about it a lot. It could work. And you can stay where you been staying, in the attic, in your dad's old room. The house is big. We won't get in each other's way. And you're going to need to be close to the launderette, aren't you? So we can get working on your project.”

“You mean I can do it?”

“No, I mean we'll do it together. I gotta start doin' something so that the kid doesn't think I'm just a couch potato. It's gotta see that women are doin' it for themselves. Jeremy put a little cash aside. It's not a lot but it's a start. We can use that.” She spoke directly, not in her usual evasive way, or in that dark defensive tone of someone who's just waiting for the next horrible thing to happen to them.

Reebee and Sky brought covers and pillows into the living room so we could stretch out and be comfortable. The talk turned to my project. We got very excited. Sky played the silent piano on the coffee table.

Every so often one of us would ask Connie if she wasn't exhausted, but she would just shake her head.

Then Connie asked us, “What would you do if this house was yours? What would you do to fix it up?” and it opened up a whole new can of worms. It was a shock to see that the sky was no longer a royal blue-black but a lighter blue shot with gold. Without realizing it, we had talked until dawn.

The others gave in to fatigue and all straggled up to find a bed somewhere in the house. Sky went up to an empty bedroom on the third floor and Reebee got the other spare room next to Connie's.

I ran outside and over to the launderette to open it up for
the day, throw the switches, check for forgotten laundry, fill up the detergent, softener and bleach dispensers. When I'd finished, I went back to the house and climbed the extra flights of stairs to my father's old room.

 

It was after noon when I woke up. The others were still sleeping. I got dressed quickly and ran out to the store to buy coffee, pancake mix, bacon, eggs, orange juice and maple syrup.

I began to prepare breakfast. The kitchen was filled with sunlight and delicious smells. When I couldn't stand being alone any longer, I forced the others to wake up with Van Morrison at top volume.

Connie was the first one down. It was still a shock to see her new appearance. She looked pleased, sat down and dug right in hungrily. Finally, she held up her fork and said, “I know Reebee's way of eating is healthier, but I really love this greasy stuff. It reminds me of my granny's cooking.”

Sky was the next to come down. She had her usual three cups of coffee then started in on the toast. I was going to go up and wake Reebee but then Connie said, “She did all the driving and the tour guiding for our trip. She's probably exhausted. You know, she always seems so energetic and superhuman, but she wipes herself out sometimes. She really needs a break. Let's just let her sleep.”

When Reebee finally came down she scolded me for my unhealthy breakfast choices but couldn't resist joining us in the food orgy when it came to the crunch. She kept saying, “So much for my body being a temple. Right now it's a garbage dump. I shouldn't be doing this but it's so good.”

I was sopping up some maple syrup with a bit of pancake when I remembered.

“Bob,” I said.

Connie stopped chewing and gave me one of her dead stares. She sighed.

I said, “He must be back by now. He'll be insulted if I don't go and see him right away.”

“Bob hates me,” said Connie, almost cheerfully, as if it didn't matter an iota.

“Bob's vision of the world at large is a little limited,” said Sky. “For him there are bikers, ex-bikers who are crippled and non-bikers.”

Connie added, “And people who came between him and Jeremy.”

I said, “I think you're all underestimating him. You can tell a lot about a person by checking out their favorite Web sites.”

Everyone stared at me.

“He told me I could use his computer,” I protested.

“Like which Web sites?” said Sky.

“Creative composting.”

“Don't have to think too far on that one. That would be for his pot plants,” said Sky.

“All right,” I said, “he's an Amazon.com user and likes science fiction and self-help books.”

“No kidding,” said Sky. “Favorite titles?”

“All sorts of stuff on loss and grief management.”

Reebee asked, “That would be the girlfriend who died in the accident?”

I nodded. “Maybe. Her or Jeremy. Anyway, I better get over there and see him. You want to come, too, Connie?”

She poked her chest with her finger. “Me? What do you want me to come for? He hates my guts. I already told you.”

Reebee had that disapproving expression. “Now, Connie, we talked about these things, didn't we?”

“Oh Christ,” she moaned. But she stood up and got ready
to come out with me. I was a bit worried. We needed Bob. Or maybe it was just me that needed Bob. He was a fixture, an institution. I couldn't picture the launderette without him.

 

We left Reebee and Sky to clean up the kitchen then walked the couple of blocks to the launderette. I couldn't stop thinking about Connie's life story. She must have had a bit of a shock when she found out where Jeremy's income came from. It was a short leap from coin washing to dry cleaning.

We went round to the back of the building and rang the buzzer.

Bob's voice blurted out through the speaker. “Yeah, who is it?”

“Lucy, Bob. Can we come in?”

“We? Who's with you?” Bob was constantly on guard for the narcotics squad.

“Not the cops if that's what you want to know.”

“Yeah, okay, c'mon in.”

The door clicked open and we went into the vestibule. The inner door opened slowly. Bob rolled into sight. When he saw us he looked straight past me.

“Who's your friend…? Jesus. Is that Connie?”

“Hi, Bob,” she said, “Are you gonna let us in? The kid's doing somersaults and I gotta sit down fast. Unless maybe ya want me to give birth here in the hallway.”

“Yeah, yeah, c'mon in.” Bob swiveled out of the way and let us pass. When we were inside he gestured to a big armchair. Connie's new look was having the same effect on him that it had had on Sky and me. Bob wasn't at all sure what to make of the new Connie. He kept sneaking glances at her and under his beard, he was blushing.

He cleared his throat a little nervously and asked, “You guys want something, coffee, tea, a joint? No, sorry, forget I said that. Don't want to get the kid stoned before it's even seen daylight, eh?”

It was easy to tell what he was thinking. That Connie had arrived to give him the axe, to tell him that she'd found a loophole in the arrangements and he was about to be out on his ear.

“How was your visit to your brother's, Bob?” I asked, hoping to lighten the mood a little.

“It was okay. Listen, let's cut the formalities, eh? What are you here for?” This was directed at Connie and the tone was definitely hostile.

But Connie beat him to it. She smiled, a little sadly I thought, and said, “I know we haven't gotten on too well in the past, Bob, but I'm here to make you a proposition.” Bob raised his eyebrows. “I'm not touching your arrangement with Jeremy. This apartment, the management of the launderette, those'll be yours as long as you feel like doin' it. The thing is…Lucy's had some ideas.”

“Have you been around to the launderette yet, Bob?” I asked.

“Hell, no. I just got back last night. I had a long drive. Figured I'd open it up tomorrow. Why?”

“I opened it a little after you left. There were people who needed to do their washing and had nowhere else to go. Not always long hours. Enough so that some of those single mothers could do their laundry. It gave me some ideas.”

“You need to hear these ideas, Bob, because we need your help.”

“I gotta get my hearin' checked,” said Bob. “Was that Connie Pete askin' me for help or am I hearin' funny?”

Connie nodded.

“Then I wanna hear ya say please.”

“Please,” said Connie, a little stiffly.

“Well, I'll be damned.” Bob raked his salt-and-pepper hair with a big meaty hand. “So what are these ideas, Lucy?”

I talked and talked and when I'd finished, Bob said, “It all sounds a little airy-fairy to me. Don't know what Jeremy would make of it.”

“He'd like it,” said Connie. “He would have wanted to do something with the place. He couldn't admit he didn't have the energy for it anymore. That would have been like giving up.”

“I just wanna know one thing,” said Bob. “You figure this scheme will get some hot babes comin' round?”

Connie and I looked at each other, looked at Bob, and grinned.

 

Sky called me at Connie's the next evening. “Listen, Madison. You've got to call that Trelawny guy. He's phoned me every half hour for the whole day trying to get in touch with you. I guess his home phone stored my cell number. Call him. It'll make his day. I've never heard anybody so eager. Jeeez.”

“I'll do it right away.”

“If only to tell him to stop bugging me.”

“Right. It may be about Dirk. There may have been another incident.”

“Maybe. And listen, Lucy, if he asks you out, tell him you have a horrible disease. You want to stay away from any man who drinks half a bottle of vodka for breakfast and is offering you a plaid fashion experience.”

We hung up and I punched out Sam Trelawny's home number.

A tired “Hello?” answered at the other end.

My voice was crisp. “This is Lucy Madison.”

“Oh…uh…Lucy. Listen. I'm a little embarrassed. We did not get off on the right foot the other day.”

“No.” My voice was so cool his ear was sure to freeze.

“Listen. I think I should explain…my…er…state that day.”

“You were pissed out of your tree. If I'd lit a match, the fumes alone would have been enough to torch the place.”

“I admit…I was a little intoxicated. I don't usually do that. If it makes you feel any better, I was as sick as a dog the next day.”

“Sure.”

“I was quite stewed. Is that what you want to hear me say? Reasonably close to blotto. Okay?”

“Yes, you were.”

“The thing is…I was out of my head. I'd been skunked.”

“Sorry?”

“I was skunked. In a manner of speaking. My ex-wife Jennifer broke into the house and filled it with garbage. I don't know how she did it. She must have used at least two truck-loads. It was everywhere when I came home that day. In all the drawers and cupboards. She didn't miss a corner. I had to borrow some clothes from my neighbor, and they were things he leaves in the garage for dirty jobs. I didn't really get a chance to explain. It's been such a heavy time at work and then to come home to all that garbage…I just lost it.”

“You mean those plaid pants aren't part of your regular wardrobe?”

“Shit. Was I wearing plaid pants?”

“You were.”

“I would never consciously put on a pair of plaid pants.”

“Well, you did that day. And they came through loud and clear. I could hear the bagpipes coming over the hills for miles.”

Sam let out a little chuckle and said, “Jeez, I guess they'd be okay if I was attending the annual Robbie Burns banquet.”

“The what?”

“It's a Scottish thing. My grandparents' kind of thing. It involves a lot of haggis and scotch drinking and…never mind…so I was saying. None of this would have happened if I hadn't…” There was a silence.

“If you hadn't what, Sam?”

“I'm getting off the track.”

“So your ex-wife really has it in for you, eh?”

“I'm afraid it's all a little blurry. Jennifer skunked my desk and my filing cabinets as well…absolutely everything.”

“That's an awful thing to do to a person,” I said. I was genuinely shocked. And it was nice to have a justification for his outfit. Reebee was wrong. Young women aren't much more sophisticated. We still fall for nice clothes and hair.

Sam said, “I had to wash everything. Everything I didn't throw away. Curtains, sofa and chair covers… Most of it was new. She'd taken all the other stuff with her when she moved out so I'd gone and bought…” He made a sound of disgust.

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” I said this with authority, considering myself something of an expert in the scorned woman department.

Sam said quietly, “It's funny what money does to some people.”

I decided to be diplomatic. “It's a good thing my friend Sky was there that day, watching you. Your future was a garment away from being entirely pink.”

Sam laughed and a shiver went down my spine. Oh, that voice. There was something about it. I regretted not having
hung around and helped him sort his coloreds from his whites that day.