Laundromat: A Short Story

"If you are not too long, I will wait here for you all my life."
-Oscar Wilde

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When I actually think about it, I realize we never talked much… which is fine because I never noticed it then. And even if I had I don’t think I would’ve changed anything. I liked the way it was. We didn’t have what you would call a “normal relationship”. But that’s because Jase was not what you would call a normal guy. But I liked it that way. Being with Jase made even the most boring tasks seem like the most exciting… Like that one summer, when we spent all our time at the Laundromat. Spending time at a laundromat seems dumb and boring to some…but to me, that Laundromat means so much more than a pastime.

The summer days in Riverbend, Montana were dull and there wasn’t much to do, so every day Jase would pick me up in his beat up, white pickup truck and take us to the laundromat in town. The golden sun would shine into the windows as we drove on the empty asphalt road in between fields of tall grass, swaying in whatever breeze there was. He would let down the windows and turn up the radio. We would never talk, but I would usually try to sing along to whatever song was on. A few times I would catch him looking at me, and other times I saw him flash a quick smile…but that didn’t happen often. He would usually drive and look straight ahead at the road; his eyebrows furrowed and his jaw clenched, but I liked the days when I caught him smile. That meant it was a good day.

We would get to the laundromat and Jase would put in his one shirt in the wash; the black V- neck with navy stripes and one small tear in the sleeve. That was the shirt Jase washed every time we came to the laundromat. I never knew why. But like I said before, Jase was anything but normal. As we waited for his shirt to finish in the rinse cycle, he sat on his washing machine against the window. I sat on the one across from him. He would always stare at me for a few minutes as the golden sun shone upon his face, making his sad brown eyes sparkle and his jet black hair shine. But every time I turned to face him, he would slowly lean back and turn to the side to look out the window. When his shirt was done in the rinse cycle, he would never put it in the dryer. He would tie it to the back of his pick up truck and let it trail behind us in the wind as we drove home.

“It’s air drying.” He explained with a grin in result of his own joke, and squinty eyes from the sun.

So every day, the routine began with us driving on an empty road between the tall grassy fields, to the laundromat, and would end with the scene of a truck driving down the asphalt road with a T-shirt flapping around in the wind behind it. Weird as it seems, this never got boring for me, because each day Jase would look at me differently. It was exciting to figure out what he was thinking just by his eyes.

It was all the same every day that summer, until one day. He never showed up.

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No one ever knew what happened to him. They found his truck in a lake not too far from Riverbend, but they never found a body. They had a memorial for him the next week…but I couldn’t bring myself to go.

So on that golden summer day of Jase’s memorial, I sat on my washing machine as I watched his…hoping that he would magically appear and slowly turn his head from me to look out the window.

Every day after Jase disappeared, the day began with me walking down the empty road between the tall and grassy fields in the golden sun, to the laundromat where I sat alone on my washing machine, and would end with me walking home on the asphalt in the dark.

It was the same every day, until one day…

I was sitting on the washing machine looking out the window when something caught my eye. I looked down, and there was something behind Jase’s washing machine. I picked it up. In my hand was the folded black V- neck with navy stripes and one small tear in the sleeve. My heart stopped as a letter fell from the shirt.

“I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

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It’s been awhile since I found that note…and I don’t know if it was true or not. But I can’t live my life waiting for someone who may or may not come back. However, I hope that one day I will somehow know that he’s here…because I know the first place he will go to look for me.

Until then, I dream of the day that I go to the laundromat and wait for the rinse cycle to finish…in hopes that this would end in the scene of a truck driving down the asphalt road, with a T-shirt flapping around in the wind behind it.