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Snow piled up outside the residence of the Fine household. A woman named C.C. sat by the window, timidly writing the word ‘help’ on the frosted panes. The Sheffield household had planned to take a vacation, and C.C. insisted she took them. Just so she could get to her weekend with the Senator. She was especially glad to be rid of that damned butler, Niles. But they had gotten snowed in at the nanny’s mother’s house. It was a cramped apartment, but the Sheffields were staying there for a whole day, so they needed to get used to it. The two younger children, Brighton and Gracie, were with Fran, the nanny, playing canasta. Maggie, the eldest child, fourteen, was perched on the couch, reading a book. She did really want to go on vacation, but this was alright. Fran had a lovely family, and Sylvia, Fran’s mother, was quick to welcome them into her home, but made a rather unruly meal suggestion. Despite this, Maggie still wished they were spending the usual cold winter of Manhattan in a warm country. Fran approached Maggie.
“Maggie, do you wanna play canasta with your brother and sister? We’re startin’ a new round!”
Maggie thought about it. Well, she had no better use of the time. She dog-eared the page she was up to in her book and snapped it closed, then walked over to where Brighton and Gracie were. In front of Brighton, he had a huge pile of Pishke, the canasta winnings. She sat down and Fran dealt the cards out. Brighton kept winning, which just seemed to make Maggie a bit more miserable. This wasn’t relaxing at the beach eyeing muscular lifeguards. This was sitting in a tiny apartment playing a card game for old people with your siblings.
After a few rounds of boring canasta, where Brighton was the only winner, Maggie stood up and joined C.C. at the icy window.
“I’m. In. Hell.” She huffed.
“Join. The. Club.” C.C. replied, exasperated.
Fran looked at the pair staring at the window just praying the snow cleared in an instant, and she sighed. She knew they were both tired of this ‘vacation’, but it would only last a day. Maggie fiddled with the sleeve on her cream woollen jumper and watched heavy snow fall and turn into vapour on the window. Sylvia rounded everybody up for lunch.
“C’mon children! I made tongue!”
The three Sheffield children all turned to each other with disgusted looks on their faces. Fran’s mother then handed each of them a plate and utensils. Maggie stared at what sat on the plate and gagged. Everybody took a seat on the couch that was covered in plastic. She took a bite and instantaneously spat it out. Gracie then chimed in with,
“I think it tastes great, Mrs. Fine!”
Everyone immediately shoved their plates in her face, to discard their gross meal. For the remainder of lunch, Maggie sat with her head resting on her hand, bored out of her mind. Fran wished she could do something to help her, but there wasn’t anything Maggie was open to doing.
“What’s wrong, Mags?” she asked, sitting down next to her.
“I’m just… bored.” Maggie mumbled, staring at her shoes.
Fran thought for a moment, then smiled as she heard Brighton winning Mahjong for the fifteenth time in a row against Sylvia. It was worth a shot.
“Well, now Brighton and Ma are playing Mahjong. You could always join them!”
Maggie rolled her eyes at the stupid suggestion. How could Fran even recommend that? She saw the entire canasta situation unfold, does she want to see that all over again, simply with a different game?
“No way, Fran. What even is there to do in this house?” she shouted, lifting a hand and running it angrily through her short blonde hair.
A knock on the door made Niles stand up immediately. Fran stood up and said,
“Don’t worry, Niles. I’ll get it.”
“Sorry… Force of habit.”
Fran waved a hand in the air and unlocked all the locks on the apartment’s front door. A scruffy teenage boy, a bit older than Maggie, came in, holding a basket filled with laundry. He had a navy shirt with the word ‘Queens’ plastered across it, along with a white undershirt.
“Hi Kenny! What’s up? How’s your family? Whatcha need?” Fran exclaimed, eyes darting to where Maggie was perched on the sofa.
“Not much. They’re fine. Fabric softener.”
Fran smiled and let Kenny into the house to retrieve some fabric softener. Fran glanced at Maggie, who glanced at Fran. Kenny came back with a bottle of fabric softener in his laundry basket. Fran gestured for Maggie to stand up, and she brought her over to where Kenny stood. Fran smiled and let Kenny in.
“Kenny, I want you to meet Maggie! Maggie, this is Kenny!”
She smiled at the two of them.
“Mix and mingle!” she called out as she rushed off to the kitchen to help her mother with dinner.
For a moment, the pair didn’t say anything. Then, they both said hi, and back to complete silence.
“We’re stuck here.” Maggie explained briefly.
“I’ve been stuck ‘ere for 17 years. At least you get to leave when the snow melts.”
Maggie grinned skittishly and giggled.
“Cool jeans.” Maggie told him, picking up a pair of jeans in the basket.
“Thanks. I got ‘em at Ronny’s Slack Shack.” He explained.
“Where is that place?” Fran piped up, exiting the kitchen.
Kenny explained how it was on Union Turnpike, next to Vinnie’s Jacket Racket, of course.
“Does anyone have a sharp knife?” C.C. questioned, exasperated.
She was ignored by everyone, and then Kenny spoke to Maggie once more, sending her into internal panic. You know, ‘What to say? What to say?’
“Hey, do you wanna come down to the new launderette? If you think I’m cute now you should see me under the fluorescent lights.”
Maggie was immediately interested. Being alone with Kenny? She was down. Fran opened the front door for the pair of teenagers, and they left the crowded room.
There was a fair bit of tension as Kenny and Maggie walked down the endless flight of stairs to the launderette on the first floor of the apartment complex. The air smelt like strong, aged perfume that has no doubt been doused on every inch of about 90% of the women in the building. Maggie’s nose wrinkled up when she caught a whiff of it, but the scent changed to detergent at once as her and Kenny entered the launderette. It was plain, bland and barren. A few washing machines on one wall, dryers on the other. On the wall opposite the pair of teens, stood a metal sink and a smattering of fold-out chairs. The lighting was bright, and it occasionally flickered.
“Wow, it’s… so cool!” she exclaimed in surprise.
This was her first time in a laundromat, and it wasn’t exactly pretty. Kenny waltzed towards a washing machine and stationed his laundry basket on top of the machine.
“What, this ya first time in a laundromat?” he asked in disbelief, turning to face Maggie.
“Um… Yeah…” she admitted sheepishly, tucking her hair behind her left ear.
Kenny smiled and strode over to where she nervously stood.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it. I can show ya the ropes!” he enthused and gestured to come towards the washer.
He led her to where the laundry basket sat, and they kneeled down.
“So basically, you pop a quarter in the washin’ machine, and then you can wash ya clothes.”
He quickly tossed all his clothes into the opening and deposited a coin into the slot. She stared intently, but not at what he was doing. At him. This felt real, even though she had just met him. Like it wouldn’t last two days. Like her short-lived relationship with Eddy, the waiter at the Backers’ Party. Her first kiss. And first breakup.
“You got that, Maggie?”
Oh. She had zoned out, recalling her brief relationship. That wasn’t a good look.
“Ah… yep!” she smiled, lying through her teeth.
Kenny didn’t really catch on and picked up the empty basket with one hand.
“Now we wait.”
“For how long?”
Kenny checked the timer on the washing machine.
“Bout an hour or so.”
Maggie nodded slowly and leant on a nearby washer. The silence seemed to drag on longer than it really was. Awkwardness marking its place confidently to destroy the chemistry between them for the hour (or so).
“So, uh, got a boyfriend or somethin’?” he asked, trying to make some small talk, that would hopefully, for both of their sakes, turn into a long conversation.
“I used to… it… didn’t last long. Was my first kiss, though, so… that’s something. I guess.”
Kenny sympathetically smiled and stared at the vinyl floor. Maggie did the same. There was that silence once again. Rebuilding that tension they knew all too well.
“Well, y’know… I’m sure he thought you were great. I sure do, and I’ve just met ya.”
That last sentence alone sent Maggie’s heart racing.
“Well Kenny, you were right.” She began, tilting her head ever so slightly.
Kenny glanced at her for a moment, then his gaze stayed fixed. As Maggie started to continue her original sentence, humiliation hit her like a ton of bricks.
You do look cuter under the fluorescent lights.
Who says that? Not her, that’s for sure. It would be moving too fast. C’mon, she had an entire hour to at least kiss him. Not that she wanted to do anything more, just one kiss would be fine by her. There’d been nothing that made her actually feel in love since Eddy. And now Kenny comes knocking on Sylvia’s door for fabric softener, and all of that suddenly changes. But all of this aside, she didn’t say what she planned.
“He probably did… think that. I hope. Uh, do you have a girlfriend?”
Kenny chuckled at that query, which was odd to Maggie. He seemed pretty charming, and like the only decent guy in Flushing. Well, he wasn’t just decent to her.
“Nah. I’m single. My mother don’t like it when I have girls over, so I don’t really date lately.”
“I see.”
Maybe she could change that.
Roughly 30 minutes had passed, and there had been a smidge of chatter spliced into that time. On and off, about boring things. When the snow was scheduled to stop, what their families were like, etcetera. Maggie would think about what to say that could start up a surefire conversation with Kenny, maybe she could ask about his type? She thought it was worth a shot, and her time so far with Fran had definitely made her more confident. And time is of the essence, the washer could beep at them any second now.
“You said your mom didn’t let you date… what type of person would she be happy with?”
Kenny paused and thought about the question posed.
“Probably not someone with an accent like mine, or hers.” He remarked, leaning against the line of washers.
Maggie tintinnabulated with laughter and awkwardly peered at Kenny, and he did just the same to her. The seconds suddenly began to drag on like hours, and Maggie felt the largest pit in her stomach creep up on her. Kenny slowly approached, as if silently asking permission to move towards her. She was frozen, dumbfounded, but also a rush of excitement flowed through her body. Was this really happening?
“Maggie, uh…” he began, steadily stopping merely a few inches from her.
She could barely think straight, and it looked like Kenny couldn’t either. Would he really kiss her? This was surreal, and this was all thanks to Fran, not to mention Kenny’s expert timing. Kenny’s need for fabric softener at the time was a gift from god. He placed a hand carefully in her blonde hair, and his lips met with Maggie’s.
Emotions surged through Maggie’s brain, as she snaked her arms around Kenny’s neck. She pulled back.
“What? No good?” Kenny pondered, pale pink lip gloss staining his mouth.
Maggie beamed and shook her head, pulling him in once more. His free hand clasped her waist gently, and the kiss lasted longer than Maggie could’ve dreamed of. The washing machine timer abruptly beeped to signify the washing had been done. The two broke apart and Kenny wandered towards the beeping washer. He dumped the damp clothes into his laundry basket.
“Alright. You wanna come with me to my mother’s house? She don’t like to dry her clothes in dryers, prefers drying racks.”
Maggie snapped out of the trance Kenny’s lips had put her in and chuckled quietly.
“That’s weird…”
He handed Maggie the bottle of fabric softener that started all of this, and placed the laundry basket under his arm. The pair exited the launderette, and Maggie rested her head on his shoulder, and he tugged her into a side-hug. She laughed and kissed his cheek.
Fran heard Maggie’s frivolous laugh echo through the apartment complex, and smiled to herself. She could almost sense the events that had gone down in that cramped excuse for a laundromat, and was proud. She started that. And she was sure it would last.