“Honey, I am not a ma’am.” Her hands rest on her hips, her eyes narrow in on me.
“Oh, I’m sorry I was just…” I stutter out.
“Don’t be sorry. You were just being polite, and I appreciate that. I just hate the word ma’am, makes me feel too damn old.”
“Noted… Sheila,” I say and feel relieved when she smiles warmly at me.
“Good, I’ll see you in the kitchen in a few minutes?”
“Yeah, I’ll be right there.” The words are barely out of my mouth before she turns and leaves me to get acquainted with my new room. Quickly I open my bag and begin placing my few articles of clothing in the dresser drawers. The dresser is small and old but does the job. I don’t have many clothes anyway. Cynthia took me shopping before I came here as part of my rehabilitation into society. I have two interview outfits and some jeans and t-shirts. My old clothes are gone with the exception of my black hoodie. I bought it when I planned to get the hell out of town and somehow managed to keep it through all my shit. Maybe it’s my good luck charm. If nothing else it makes me feel secure when I can pull my hood over my head, pop in some earbuds and tune the world out. It’s my way to cope when shit gets too real or deep.
It only takes me a few minutes to put my things away before I’m going to meet Sheila in the kitchen. I find her there, sitting at the table, smoking a cigarette.
“That was quick. Sit. Would you like a smoke?” She lifts the pack towards me.
“Uh, yeah sure. Thank you.” Pulling one from the pack I sit across from her.
“You’re welcome. I’ll help you out as much as possible until you find a job and get some income. Smokes included.” Shrugging she takes the pack back from me, setting it on the table before moving the ashtray to the center of the table.
“Appreciate it.” I offer her a nod of thanks before igniting, burning the tip of my smoke. I know smoking is bad and just another addiction, but it’s the least of my worries, and I’m confident I can kick the habit when it’s time.
“Okay, so I don’t have a ton of rules but what I do have I expect to be followed okay?”
“Of course,” I reply as she slides over a piece of paper with the rules typed out. I begin to read as she begins to explain.
No drugs
No booze
No boys
Don’t interrupt my shows
Meals are served at 8:00 am, 12:30 pm and 5:30 pm and you’re expected to be at every meal unless you have work or an interview
She pauses at number five to elaborate. “Meals are important. You have to eat healthy to get healthy and that’s what you’re doing here right, getting healthy?”
“Yes.”
“Good, it’s also a good time to bond and learn about each other.”
“Understood,” I reply and she continues.
No friends over
10:00 pm curfew unless you’re working
Keep your room tidy and clean up after yourself
Look for a job daily
If at any point you think you’re teetering on the edge of needing a fix, come to me
I read them over again silently while she sat finishing her smoke. They were simple, straight forward and more than fair.
“Fair enough. I won’t have a problem following those rules.”
“That’s good to hear. One more thing, my washer and dryer is broken so for the time being you’ll have to go to the laundromat. There’s one not far from here and until you find work I don’t mind supplying the quarters. And if you need me to go with you I will.”
“Okay. Thank you, I really appreciate what you’re doing.”
“Well, someone did it for me. Least I can do is pay it forward.” She gives me a wink before crushing her cigarette and standing from the table. “Dinner is in an hour. Go ahead and get cleaned up.”
“Will do, thanks again.” I crush out my own cigarette and head back to my room.
***
Time at Sheila’s seems to fly by. Within a week, I’m working at the fast food joint down the street. Didn’t pay great, but it’s a good start and gives me some cash. Feels damn good to work at a real job. Get a real paycheck. Despite the low pay I’m more proud of myself than I’ve been since I graduated high school. I photocopied my first paycheck. It’s a reminder of how far I’ve come. With cash in my hand, I head to the store for some new clothes, a pretty comforter, a bookshelf and some books. Sheila suggested I buy a TV for my room, but books are all the entertainment I need. The pride I feel when putting my new stuff away is immeasurable. I worked for these things the honest way. All the times I dreamed about getting away from the drugs, I never imagined it would become reality. I smile to myself as I look around my room before grabbing the little bit of laundry I have and heading to the laundromat.
***
I haven’t made any friends and am not really looking to. I don’t think I’ll be good friend material until I get my shit together and can stand on my own two feet. I go to the laundromat every Saturday and find my time there to be the most relaxing of my entire week. I’ve always loved people watching and I can do it there without being noticed. With my hood over my head and a book in my hand I feel invisible. That is until the one Saturday Miss Ruby came in.
She’s the cutest little old lady I’ve ever seen and so out of place. Her clothes and hairdo are enough to signify that she surely doesn’t need to do laundry here, but she’s been coming every Saturday night. She does one load then sits and people watches. Sometimes I can feel her watching me, but it’s fair game because I watch her too.
It’s Saturday night again, and I’ve had a shitty day at work. My co-workers are either teenage assholes who are only there because their parents forced them or middle aged ex-drug addicts who think they own the fucking world because they’ve lived longer than me. My boss is one of them. A first class dick. His greasy, receding hairline is enough to make me want to hurl but the way he talks to his female employees makes my skin crawl. He reminds me of what Des might be like in twenty years if he ever cleans up. Sober but still a douche.
After being lectured all day by Larry, I am relieved to be off work and headed to the laundromat. It’s strange that I find solace in such a place but hey, can’t pick where we find peace. Finding it is what’s important. When I get there I’m almost relieved that it’s just me there doing my laundry. As much as I like people watching I’m in no mood to be around them.
I drop my basket on the ground then my book on the little table letting out a sigh before turning to load my clothes. The moment I shut the door to the washer I hear a sweet voice behind me. “Are you okay, dear?” I turn to see her, the little old lady looking at me through concerned and weary eyes.
“I’m fine. Long day at work is all.” I turn away and dump soap in the machine before feeding it my coins.
“Would you like to talk about it?”
“Um, no. I’m okay but thank you.”
“You sure, I’m a great listener.” Looking at her I didn’t doubt that she was. I don’t know if it’s a good idea to unload my crap onto an old lady, but she asked and I really would like to talk.
“Okay, sure.” I shrug, starting the machine.
“Oh good, come let’s sit.” We sit at the table that holds my book. She watches me, waiting for me to speak. I have nothing to lose so I open my mouth, letting the words tumble out.
“Well, I work at the fast food joint down the street and it’s a real shitty job.” I pause realizing maybe I should clean up my mouth while talking to her. She smiles slyly at me.
“Go on, I can handle dirty words. Lord knows I say them myself.” With a wink, she nods her head encouraging me to continue.
Giggling a little I push on. “Anyway, my boss is a real jerk. Kind of a perv and talks down to the female employees. Today he was in rare form and just kept pushing my buttons. It’s really no big deal, he just got under my skin.” I shrug as I finish, not wanting to bore her any longer.
“Sounds like a real
asshole to me,” she comments confidently, making me laugh.
“Yeah, he is a real asshole,” I confirm.
“Maybe you should find a new job and when you do tell him to kiss your ass as you walk out the door.” She sits back letting the words float between us. Her conviction is endearing, and I can’t help but laugh again.
“Well, if I could I would. It’s supposed to be a stepping stone for me. I’m in recovery right now,” I admit and immediately wish I can take the words back. Why did I admit that to a complete stranger. A rich old lady nonetheless. I don’t tell anyone new about my past. I’m trying so hard to get through it and start over. Trying to change my image is hard. I removed all but my nose piercing in an attempt to fuse myself into society My once dyed black hair is now back to my natural blonde after chopping off the remnants of the black hair that reflected my dark life . My clothes don’t give me away. My long sleeves and jeans cover all of my tattoos. Why the hell did I just confess my shame to her?
She must notice the look of regret on my face because she is quick to respond, “Aren’t we all recovering from something?” The words flow seamlessly from her mouth, as though she’s speaking the gospel truth. Unfortunately, she doesn’t know my truth.
“I don’t think most people are recovering from a past like mine.” I want to turn my eyes away from hers, but I can’t. Something in those old eyes is comforting yet wise. Almost hypnotizing.
“You’d be surprised, dear. Tell me about it.” The request is so soft spoken I’m not sure I hear her correctly.
“No, I don’t think I should,” I stutter out. “I don’t think you’d want to hear, and if you did you might think differently about me. Well, I don’t know what you think so far so maybe you wouldn’t.” I’m rambling, not sure what to say and what not to say. The only thing I know is this lady has some kind of pull that’s making me want to open up to her, against my better judgment.
I see her sigh before saying words I’ve never heard spoken to me or about me. I almost wonder if I’m imagining the whole thing. “I think you’re a beautiful and intelligent young woman who’s made some mistakes but is trying to better herself and for that you’re also very brave.” She reaches across the table and pats my hand. I never knew my grandmother, on either side, but I’m sure they’d be nothing like this lady. No, this woman surely raised children who turned into functioning adults, not drug addicts or criminals. How different would my life have been if I’d been born into her family?
“What’s your name?” I ask, truly humbled and touched in a way I can never explain, not even to myself. I have a connection with her. It’s strange and soothing.
“Miss Ruby and yours?” She replies. I like Ruby. She looks like a ruby. Beautiful, timeless, gentle yet fierce and strong. Her name is fitting.
“Jewel.” I’m still not ready to fully embrace Cara yet. I’ve made tremendous strides but I haven’t come far enough to identify with the old me. In all honesty, I’m not sure I ever will.
“Lovely name. Maybe someday you’ll tell me your real name.” She offers a wink and a smile, not pressing any further.
“Maybe someday,” I replied with a smile. The first genuine smile I’ve had in I can’t remember how long. Feels good.
Silence only fills the air for a brief moment before the door flings open, allowing the other Saturday night regulars to enter into what has become my safe haven. Behind the faces I recognize is one I don’t. He’s dressed far too fancy for this place, kind of like Miss Ruby. He’s quite possibly the hottest man I’ve ever seen. He puts Destin (back in his younger days) to shame a thousand times over. Wow. “Oh look, Jewel, our subjects are here,” she says, pulling my eyes from the gorgeous man. Giddiness dances in her eyes as the people file in.
“Our subjects?” I whisper, trying not to look back towards the man I’ve never seen before.
“Oh yes, I see you watching them just as I do. We’re people watchers and you know what I think?”
“What’s that?” I ask, glancing back towards the same few people I’ve seen here every Saturday. A young couple–the girl is pregnant and the boy dotes on her. It’s very sweet. Then there’s a woman, on the wealthy side, I assume. She’s always on the nervous side and her washer broke about a month ago. I know this thanks to overhearing a conversation between her and a handsome man who shows up at the same time as she does every week. She’s wearing a ring and clearly still comes to see him, but he’s not her husband. I’ve wondered about that relationship more than once.
“These are good people. Maybe you should get to know them.” Her statement is so matter of fact, it makes me want to believe she’s right.
“I don’t know about…” I begin, but before I can finish Mr. Fancy Pants Sex God comes over to our table. He leans down to kiss Ruby on the cheek. “Hi, Grandma. How’s Saturday night at the laundromat?”
“Hello, dear, it’s been rather quiet until now. Sit. I want you to meet my new friend Jewel.” She beams before I can make my escape. The last thing I need in my life is to be looked at and judged by the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Just having him in the room intimidates me. Ruby may be free of condemnation. I don’t expect this man to be. Grandson or not.
“Cash, this is Jewel. Jewel, this is my grandson Cash,” she says in introduction. I use all the courage I have inside to look up at this man. He’s fucking beautiful. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Then he smiles at me and I swear to Jesus, I just died. How can one man be so damn perfect?
“Nice to meet you, Jewel,” he bellows, his voice smooth like molasses.
“Um, Nice to meet you.” I fumble as I feel heat creep into my cheeks. Embarrassment floods me. Shame grips my throat making it hard to breathe. I have to get out of here.
“It was nice talking to you, Miss Ruby and nice meeting you, Cash.” I stand from the table ready to bolt. Luckily, my clothes are already done and folded. All I have to do is stand, tuck the basket under my arm and make a run for it. It takes all I have to literally not run to the door. I settle for a fast paced walk instead. I have to get away from him before I make a fool of myself.
“See you next week, dear,” Miss Ruby calls behind me.
I turn and give her a brief smile. “Next week.”
The moment I reach the door Cash is there. “Here let me help you,” he says, slowly flashing that killer smile again. Before I can protest, he pushes the heavy door open, holding it for me as I walk through. A true gentleman move. One I’ve never seen a man do.
“Thank you,” I tell him shyly.
“Anything for a pretty lady.” Did he just call me pretty? No fucking way. I’m far from pretty to even the most standard guy but for this guy, this insanely fine and I’m sure rich man, I can’t wrap my brain around it. He’s just being nice, surely. Clearly he learned manners from his grandmother.
“Let me take those to the car for you.” He offers reaching for my basket as we walk away from the laundromat.
“No, that’s alright. Thank you though.” I pull back, not wanting to tell him I don’t have a car. I walked here.
“It’s no problem, really.” He tries again, and I can tell he’s not going to give up, his manners getting the best of him.
“You can’t take them to my car because I don’t have one,” I admit, my words coming out more irritated than intended. I’m just so mortified.
“You walked here?” The disbelief he can’t hide only amplifies my mortification.
“Yeah, it’s not far. Few blocks is all and my basket is light so it’s not a big deal.”
“Let me walk with you then, it’s late and a pretty lady like you shouldn’t be out here alone.” He stood in front of me, forcing me to look at him. Was he fucking serious? A pretty lady like me? Now I know he’s fucking with me, and it’s starting to piss me off. One pretty lady can be brushed off as having nice manners, but two? He’s being condescending now.
“Trust me, I can handle myself just fine, thank you very much.” It’s impossible to mis
s the irritation this time.
“Something tells me you can handle yourself just fine but call me old fashioned. I’d still like to walk you home. My gran taught me manners, and I like to use them.”
“Don’t waste your manners on me, Cash, I can take care of myself.” I push past him but he follows.
“Well, regardless of whether or not you’re capable, which I can tell you are, I still wouldn’t be able to sleep well if I didn’t make sure you made it home safe. So, I’ll follow you. You don’t have to talk to me, but it would be a more enjoyable walk if you just let me use my manners.” I stopped and turned to look at him, his good looks not as blinding. They’re still there but my self-defense is kicking in. After falling for Destin’s sweet talk I swore I’d never be that kind of woman again. I’ll never fall for the nice words of a dude no matter how hot he is.
“So you’re really going to follow me?” I question, and he nods his response. “Fuck, whatever. Come on.”
I turn to walk away and he swiftly grabs my laundry basket not giving me a chance to say no. I shoot him daggers with my eyes. He just shrugs and smiles.
“So, Jewel, tell me about yourself,” he says cheerfully, walking right beside me.
“Why?”
“Because I’d like to get to know you.”
“Again, why?” I glance over at him. He’s got to recognize my confusion. He surely isn’t interested in a girl like me.
“I don’t know honestly. You’re beautiful, but it’s more than that. I’ve watched you before when I come with Gran.” The words are spoken as a confession. I can hear a slight hint of remorse.
“What? I’ve never seen you here with her.” I don’t try to hide my surprise, not because I’ve never seen him, but because he’s been watching me.
“I sit in the car or outside waiting for her. The laundromat has big windows, you’re not hard to spot.” He winks at me making my heart melt. He’s getting to me. I can’t let that happen.
“Look, Cash, I’m sure you’re a great guy and honestly I’m flattered but you know nothing about me.”
Addict (The Laundromat Chronicles Book 2) Page 4
