Laundry Night

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September 1982

Balancing the laundry basket against her body with one hand, Elaine Corbin reached out with the other to trip the light switch on the wall. As the overhead fluorescent lights came to life, the twenty-three year old brunette quickly brought that hand back, grabbing the side of the plastic carrier before it could fall to the floor. Once she had a secure hold, she carried the basket to the worktable in the center of the room and laid it down on top.

The clock on the wall read a quarter to midnight and, as Elaine had expected at this late hour, she had the laundry room all to herself. That was at least one advantage, she told herself, of not having a date for Friday night. Not that she'd had that many dates at all in recent months.

When she had moved into the small Carroll Gardens' apartment building a month ago, Elaine had been thrilled to find that it had a laundry room, something her old place in Cobble Hill had lacked. She certainly wasn't going to miss the weekly trips to the Suds N Wash, a six block walk from her apartment.

With three coin operated washers and an equal number of commercial dryers, each lining opposite walls, Elaine hadn't initially expected any problem finding a convenient time to do her laundry. After all, there were only nine apartments in the building and, even if most people preferred to do it in the early evenings or on the weekends, that left plenty of time during the less desirable hours. Or so she had thought.

Shortly after she'd moved in, one of the washers had broken down and, after a wait several days for a repairman, was found to need a new part. Given that the machine was more than a decade old, the part was one that had to be specially ordered and, according to the notice taped to the machine, that would take at least two or three weeks. As a result, every time Elaine had come down to do her laundry, there always seemed to be two or three people already there.

'Well, at least I've got the place to myself now,' Elaine thought as, after wheeling over one of the rolling metal wash tubs, she began to transfer her clothes into it.

Normally, Elaine would've separated the white and colors into two separate loads, but that would've meant that she'd have to use both of the remaining machines and that really wasn't a great idea. It wasn't so much the added cost as the fact that the washer on the far left of the room, the oldest of the three, had a reputation for doing a really crappy job getting your clothes clean. The one time she had used it, she'd had to redo the entire load in one of the other machines. When she had complained to the landlord's representative in the building, he merely directed her to the large Rules of the Laundry Room sign that hung on the wall -- specifically, to the lines that read, 'use at your own risk' and 'no refunds'.

So she wheeled the wash bin over to the remaining machine, the one on the far right, only to find, when she opened the lid of the top loading washer, that someone else's wet clothes were already in it. Obviously someone had loaded it earlier and then left the machine to run on its own, despite other lines on the rules poster that both prohibited leaving machines unattended and warned that clothing left overnight might be discarded.

Regardless of what the sign said, Elaine didn't think anyone would actually do that -- she certainly knew that she wouldn't. Instead, she rolled over another of the metal tubs and began moving the damp clothing into it. Having stopped at the bank for a roll of quarters in anticipation of doing the wash tonight, Elaine decided to be a good neighbor and use some of the extra coins to run the colorful load through one of the dryers.

As she continued to empty the machine, she wondered who the laundry belonged to. It clearly belonged to a woman, one with excellent taste in clothes, she observed, as she glanced at each piece before tossing it in the tub. Elaine had only met half the tenants in the building so far, and none of them seemed the type to have such an expensive wardrobe. She also noticed the absence of any male clothing, which probably meant that the woman was single.

There was one last article at the bottom of the washer drum, a bunched up bit of purple cloth that appeared to be stuck on the bottom of the agitator. Elaine had to use one of the small wooden step stools to reach down to free it, but once she did, she held it up between two extended hands.

'This is nice,' she thought as she admired the lace brassiere.

The undergarment was the sort of thing you bought from Victoria's Secrets or Frederick's of Hollywood, not the discount stores Elaine frequented. Curious, she held it up close to her own chest, wondering what she'd look like in something like this. A glance at the small size tag on the band told her that it was a 38D, while she wore a 34B.

'The only way I'd fit into this thing would be if I used at least a box of tissues,' Elaine silently laughed, remembering how some of her less endowed classmates used to stuff their bras back in junior high.

She was just about to drop the bra onto the pile of clothes already in the washtub when an unexpected voice from behind startled her enough that she lost half of her hold on the support garment.

"I'm sure that you'd look lovely in something like that," a strong but decidedly feminine voice said, "but you're going to have to get your own."

Elaine turned in the direction of the voice, there to find a short-haired blonde standing in the doorway. Strikingly handsome rather than pretty, she stood a half foot taller than the brunette's five foot four and looked to be in her late thirties. Her hair cut in a bob, the woman wore beige colored, loose fitting slacks and a long- small dog sleeved burgundy blouse -- the latter just form-fitting enough to display a physique that matched the bra Elaine had been admiring.

"What?" Elaine replied, then realized that she still had the undergarment in her hand. "I'm sorry, I was just unloading ... I mean, I was going to put it in one of the dryers."

The woman didn't immediately respond, taking instead the time to look Elaine over. An act that made her feel slightly self-conscious, especially given how she was dressed, wearing only a pair of cut off shorts and an old faded concert shirt that had seen better days. With just about everything she owned in her own bin, she hadn't even had clean underwear to put on underneath.

"I was only joking," the woman said in a softer tone as her stern expression was replaced by a warm smile. "Not about the idea that you'd look good in it, just that I was angry that you'd moved my clothes. I know you just wanted the good machine."

The smile made Elaine feel better and she exhaled a small sign of relief.

"Pamela Benedict, 1C," the tall woman said as, moving closer, she offered her hand in greeting.

"Elaine Corbin, 4D," Elaine countered, dropping the brassiere into the tub and extending her hand as well. "I just moved in last month."

"It's nice to meet you, Elaine Corbin," Pamela said as they shook hands, "but I suppose I should clarify that 1C is actually my sister's apartment. I'm just staying there for a few days, dog sitting while she and her boyfriend frolic on the beaches of Bermuda."

"Dog sitting?" Elaine asked.

"Yes, my sister doesn't like to put him in a kennel, even for a few days, and to be honest, I really love the little rascal," Pamela explained, adding with a grin, "Sometimes more than I love my sister."

With two sisters of her own, Elaine knew what the other woman meant.

Pamela further explained that her own apartment building, in the Yorkville section of Manhattan, had a strict no pets policy, which was why she was staying here rather than taking the dog home with her.

"I'm glad you understood about the machine," Elaine said, returning to the original subject. "I don't normally make a habit of going through other people's laundry, but you have such nice outfits."

"You'd think they'd have had the repairman take a look at both machines while he was here," Pamela said, ignoring the clothing comment, "but no. I suppose the building owner is one of those people who are penny wise and pound foolish."

Elaine wasn't sure what that meant, but was satisfied that the woman wasn't angry with her for having handled her clothes. Some people, she knew, were quirky about things like that.

"According to my sister," Pamela said, still talking about the machine, "it goes through all the cycles, but in the end you either have to run everything through again or else finish the job by hand."

"Sounds a lot like my ex-husband," Elaine quipped, bringing what she thought was a smile to the corner of the other woman's mouth.

They exchanged a few other pleasantries while Pamela took hold of the tub with her clothing and rolled it over to a dryer. While she transferred the contents to the large front loading machines, Elaine moved her own clothes into the now empty washer.

During their brief exchange, Elaine learned that Pamela was originally from England, but had moved to the States about six years before to work for the American branch of a British company. She'd taken the job to be closer to her sister, half-sister actually, the child of her father and his second wife.

"I thought I heard a bit of an accent," Elaine noted.

"It does still come through sometimes," Pamela laughed, "but if the need arises, I can sound just like your typical Nuw Yawker."

That last line, said in a manner that made Pamela sound like the stereotype New Yorker, made Elaine laugh.

Elaine in turn shared that she was an administrative clerk at the Lincoln Academy in Brooklyn Heights. She'd been there for three years now, and before there she'd done temp work while going to college.

"Where did you go to college?" Pamela inquired.

"Kingsborough Community," Elaine replied. "At least that's where I got my associate degree, but last year I started taking night classes at City College with the idea of getting my bachelor's."

"Is that why you're down here in the middle of the night doing laundry?" Pamela asked.

"No," Elaine replied, and laid out the problems she'd had finding a time when the machines were free this week. "I really didn't expect anyone else down here this late."

"Well, late is really all just a matter of perspective," Pamela offered.

Elaine gave her a quizzical look.

"I usually spend a week every month in London, attending meetings at the home office," Pamela said. "The time difference between there and here isn't really all that much, but it can still throw off your body clock. I've only been back in New York a few days, so part of me still thinks it's early morning."

"That sounds confusing," Elaine noted.

"Not as much as you might think," Pamela replied. "Or at least I've been doing it long enough that I'm used to it."

"I don't think I could," Elaine said.

"You'd be surprised what you can do when you try," Pamela replied.

Despite the fact that they'd only met barely a half hour before, Elaine found it quite easy to talk to the older woman. Pamela had an extremely affable personality, one that could almost be described as magnetic. Not the sort of woman Elaine normally met, and she couldn't help but be impressed that she actually traveled to England every month. Most of her friends thought it was a big deal just to live in the outer boroughs and work in Manhattan.

Soon enough, both machines were fully loaded and enough coins deposited for each to complete their tasks. Pamela had mentioned that, since her sister's apartment was just down the hall, she preferred waiting there for the machines to finish. She had a breakfast meeting tomorrow and wanted to go over some material before it. So, after saying again how nice it had been to meet Elaine, she started for the exit.

After saying that she'd enjoyed meeting Pamela as well, Elaine pulled out the paperback she'd brought to pass the time and took a seat on the bench against the wall. Quickly flipping the book open to where she'd last left off, she didn't notice the Englishwoman had paused at the door, or that she was now walking back toward her. At least not until she was standing over her.

"I was planning to have a cup of tea while I waited," she said. "Would you care to join me?"

"But the wash..." Elaine started to say, glancing up at the list of do's and don'ts on the wall.

"... will be fine." Pamela said. "I think it doubtful that anyone else will be coming down here this late at night, and besides, we'll be just down the hall."

Elaine closed the romance novel as she considered the offer. She really hadn't made any new friends since the move, at least not any that required more than a friendly exchange as she passed them in the hall. It might be nice, she told herself, to have a bit more than that.

"Why not?" she said with a smile as she slipped the book back into her carry bag and rose from the bench.

-=-=-=-

Pamela hadn't been kidding when she said that her sister's apartment was just down the hall, as it only took a dozen steps to reach its door. They were close enough to the laundry room, Elaine thought, that they might even hear the end of cycle buzzers when the washer and dryer shut down. Although that also meant that, during the busy time of the day, you'd also hear all the sounds of people going up and down the corridor. She didn't think she'd like that, and was grateful that her own apartment was higher up in the building.

The four room apartment wasn't identical to the one Elaine occupied, but it was similar enough in layout to seem familiar. They'd barely made it inside before a small brown and white terrier came running up to them, yapping up a storm as, after jumping up at Pamela, he turned his attention to Elaine.

"Meet Montague," Pamela said as Elaine bent down to pet the rambunctious pup.

"He's adorable," Elaine said as she ran her fingers through his fur.

Pamela turned away from the two of them and lifted the lid off a stonemason jar on a nearby table. From it, she drew a large, dried out pig's ear treat.

"Give this to him, or he'll never leave you alone," Pamela said as she handed the treat to Elaine.

Once she did so, the small dog tightly gripped it in his mouth, then scampered off to his small bed at the far end of the apartment.

"Once he's had his snack he usually nods off," Pamela noted as, stepping over to the kitchenette, she filled a kettle with water and placed it on the stovetop's front burner.

"It should only take a few minutes," Pamela said as, reaching into the cabinet above, she removed two cups and a box of teabags. "Is Darjeeling okay? If not, I'm sure we have..."

"Darjeeling would be fine," Elaine said as she turned from her survey of the well furnished apartment and shifted her attention back to Pamela. She actually had no idea what Darjeeling tasted like, but didn't want to admit that the only thing she really knew about tea was that the bags usually said Lipton on them.

The water soon boiled and, after filling both cups, Pamela stepped over to the kitchen countertop that doubled as a table, laying them in front of the stools that sat on opposite sides of the extension.

"We should have some biscuits here somewhere," Pamela said as, turning back to the cabinets, she opened a different door. "Oh, there they are."

She set the open box of cookies between the two cups, then slid onto the stool on her side of the counter. Elaine followed suit with the one closest to her and, after blowing on the hot liquid to cool it down a little, took a small sip.

"Mmmm, this is very good," Elaine said, glad that the opposite hadn't proved true as she still would've felt obligated to drink it.

Pamela seemed pleased that her guest liked it, flashing another smile before taking a drink from her own cup. Then, she asked Elaine to tell her a bit more about herself.

"Well, I don't think there's a whole lot more to tell," she replied after taking a second longer slip of the tea. "Since I mentioned my ex earlier, I'll put it out there that I'm divorced, coming up on two years now, and I moved into the building a bit over a month ago..."

"You seem awfully young to be divorced," Pamela interjected. "How long were you married?"

"Just under three years," Elaine replied. "We got married right out of high school, which in the end turned out to be a mistake."

"So young," Pamela observed.

Elaine just sort of shrugged and made an 'it was what it was' expression.

"You said you worked at a school," Pamela said, changing the subject as she asked. "What exactly does an administrative clerk do?"

"Pretty much all the grunt work that more senior personnel can't be bothered with," Elaine replied. "It's not a bad job really, just not very interesting. That's why I decided to go back to school for my bachelor's."

"That sounds like a good idea," Pamela said as she lifted the box of biscuits and offered one to Elaine before taking one for herself.

"Where did you go to school?" Elaine asked.

"Nowhere that you'd have heard of," Pamela said after taking a bite of her cookie. "It was a private college outside of London, small, but quite posh."

"Are you married?" Elaine asked, deciding that since Pamela was just visiting, the lack of male attire in the wash was no longer telling.

"Heavens no!" Pamela replied with an exaggerated gasp, before adding in a more normal tone, "I could never imagine myself tied down to one person for the rest of my life. Not when every new day can bring new and interesting people into your life."

"Oh, and have you met anyone new and interesting of late?" Elaine inquired, her own tone reflecting that the question was meant to be whimsical.

"Not recently," Pamela responded in the same manner, "but the clock on the wall says a new day is just beginning, so who knows what it might bring?"

During her reply, Pamela had glanced in the direction of the kitchen clock and when Elaine followed her gaze, she saw that it was a quarter after one.

"The laundry should be done by now," Elaine remarked when she saw the time.

-=-=-=-

Sure enough, both the washer and dryer had completed their cycles, and Pamela and Elaine emptied their respective machines, the former transferring it to her own laundry basket which she had left there earlier, and the latter moving her own now wet bundle into one of the dryers.

"I enjoyed the tea," Elaine said after dropping the last of her quarters into the slot on the dryer and turning the knob to start it, "and the conversation."

"Then why be in such a hurry to end it?" Pamela asked.

"I assumed that ..." Elaine replied. "I mean, your laundry is all finished and I really didn't expect you to stay up and keep me company while mine dries."

"London time, remember?" Pamela smiled. "I only got out of bed about twelve hours ago so I'm still wide awake."

"In that case, I'd love to chat some more," Elaine answered.

"Then it's settled," Pamela said as, lifting up her basket, she led the way back to her sister's apartment.

-=-=-=-

Pamela made them fresh cups of tea, and suggested that this time they'd be more comfortable on the couch than the kitchen stools -- which turned out to be right. They sat quietly for a bit, enjoying the hot drink, then the blonde asked, where had they left off?

"You were saying that you couldn't imagine ever settling down with one person," Elaine said.

"Ah yes," Pamela smiled, "and what about you, anyone special in your life?"

"Hardly," Elaine replied. "The fact that I'm home doing my laundry on a Friday night should tell you something."