Spoiler
To the reader:
I went to school in Port Huron for two years, so Port Huron is accurate except for two points: One, T.J. and Alex's apartment complex is a random one I made up since none of the ones I found in PH fit what I wanted. Two, there is no university in PH. Not that a university comes into this chapter, but Thomas Edison University, where Alex goes for elementary education, does not exist. However, for purposes of this novel, St. Clair County Community College (which really IS in PH) has been transformed into a university. Yay! Also, if there really was a university in PH, I have no doubt that it would be called "Thomas Edison Universty." If you live or go to school in PH, I'm sure you can understand why.
~the author
I went to school in Port Huron for two years, so Port Huron is accurate except for two points: One, T.J. and Alex's apartment complex is a random one I made up since none of the ones I found in PH fit what I wanted. Two, there is no university in PH. Not that a university comes into this chapter, but Thomas Edison University, where Alex goes for elementary education, does not exist. However, for purposes of this novel, St. Clair County Community College (which really IS in PH) has been transformed into a university. Yay! Also, if there really was a university in PH, I have no doubt that it would be called "Thomas Edison Universty." If you live or go to school in PH, I'm sure you can understand why.
~the author
Port Huron, Michigan, December 2010
Despite the weather, every washing machine was taken by the time Alex finally lugged her garbage bag of dirty clothes into Colonial Laundry. Apparently people would rather do their laundry than anything else on a winter’s day, she thought. Great. Snow-flakes covered her sky-blue pea coat and hat and melted into her long auburn hair. She peeled off her damp coat, plopped the bag on the floor, and sat on it. A full Laundromat. She would be here a while.
She passed the time by observing the other occupants of the building. A black woman trying to put clothes in a washer one-handed with a baby asleep on her shoulder. A white man and woman, both heavily tattooed, arguing about which detergent to use. An elderly man whose hands shook as he sorted his clothes painstakingly into lights and darks. A very good-looking man, possibly her age or a little older, with spiky light brown hair, grey eyes, and glasses…oops. He was looking back. Alex blushed and stopped people-watching.
Instead she dug through the sky-blue tote bag she’d bought upon starting her student-teaching at Michigamme Elementary School. A purse just didn’t cut it when you had to cart around books, papers, lesson plans, and attendance records. Not that Alex minded. Student-teaching had given her an excuse to buy the bag when it came out in her favorite color.
She felt around for the novel she thought she had with her, but all she found were her teacher’s guide math and reading workbooks and a copy of Uneversaurus. She sighed and slumped back against the wall. Back to staring at the floor, then. How exciting.
“Hey.” Alex looked up and blushed. It was the young man she’d been looking at. The one who’d looked back.
“Hey,” he repeated, “I’m done with this machine if you want to start your laundry.”
“Yeah,” she said, “thanks.”
She tried to untie the garbage bag, but the knot was too tight. She ripped the bag open and dumped her clothes into the washing machine silently, wondering how she’d get them home now that her bag was torn. The guy glanced over at her before turning a knob on his dryer.
“So you like people-watching,” he said.
“Um,” Alex said. Her face burned. “Yeah.”
“But not when you get caught.”
“No one likes getting caught. It’s embarrassing.”
“Some people don’t mind getting caught.”
“Some people,” Alex agreed cautiously. The guy removed his glasses, wiped them on his grey t-shirt, and put them back on. He held out a hand.
“Matt Thomas,” he said. Alex shook his hand.
“Alexandra Walker,” she replied. “Alex.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Alexandra Walker.”
An unwilling smile crept onto her face.
“Likewise, Mr. Thomas,” she said.
Their machines started with a whir and a hum, warm noises. Alex decided she would put her blue pea coat and hat in the dryer with the rest of her clothes once it was free.
“Awful weather, isn’t it?” Matt said.
“Welcome to Michigan,” Alex replied. “I think our state is bipolar.”
“Possibly.” Matt stretched. “But if the weather was always the same, no one would ever have anything to talk about.”
“They might as well have nothing to talk about,” Alex said. “Weather talk is boring.”
“Ah. So naturally I must be boring for starting it.”
Alex blushed again and shut up.
Finally the machines stopped. In silence Alex waited for Matt to unload his clothes from the dryer and stuff them into his own garbage bag.
“Hey, do you need a new bag?” he asked, holding up his. Stuck to the end of it was another. “I have an extra.”
“Um, yeah, thanks,” Alex said. He ripped it free and gave it to her. She felt like a jerk. He was a nice guy. “Sorry. You know. I didn’t mean to imply – you weren’t boring me, actually.”
“It’s okay.” He smiled at her. She picked her coat and hat up off the floor and threw them into the dryer. “Nice coat.”
“Thanks. So…I guess you’ll be going now?”
Matt grinned.
“You know how to give a hint, don’t you?” he said. Alex chewed on her thumbnail, embarrassed. “Yeah, I’m going.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“It’s fine.” They shook hands once more. “It was nice meeting you, Alex.”
“Bye,” Alex said in a small voice.
She watched him walk away and then turned around, started the dryer, and sat on the floor to wait. A while before the dryer stopped, a gangly young man with short, bleach-blond hair and blue eyes walked into the Laundromat.
“Over here, T.J.,” she said.
He sat on the floor beside her, his long legs sticking out in front of him like railroad tracks.
“You know you’re causing a fire hazard, right, T.J?”
He laughed and patted his legs.
“Oh, sweetie, no one’s gonna trip on these,” he said, and then he leaned close to her and lowered his voice. “Hey, I met a guy in the store earlier who would be perfect for you. You know, nothing serious, just to get you out.”
“T.J….”
“No, just listen – his name is Erick, I have his number right here – he wants to meet you and Alex, he is so hot… You haven’t seen tall, dark, and handsome until you’ve seen this guy.”
Alex ran a hand through her auburn hair and looked away.
“I just saw tall, dark, and handsome, and I was totally horrible to him.”
“What? You’re never horrible.”
“I am too.”
“Come on, just tell me. Was he cute?”
Alex shrugged.
“I guess so. He tried to talk to me but I just…I kind of blew him off.”
T.J. shook his head.
“Honey, that’s not horrible,” he said. “You’re allowed to blow a guy off if you’re not interested in him. I do it all the time.”
“Yeah, but you’re always telling me I shouldn’t do that,” Alex reminded him. “You always say, how will I ever get a date if I don’t give the guy a chance to ask me out?”
“True,” T.J. said. “I’ve always wondered – why don’t you give them a chance? You’ve been single as long as I’ve known you. You’ve never been on a date once in four years. So, give – what’s holding you back?”
Alex rubbed her thighs.
“I just – I don’t know. No one’s, like…good enough, I guess. Which is stupid, because I’ve met a lot of great guys, but…”
“Oh my God,” T.J. said.
“What?”
“You’re a closet lesbian, aren’t you?”
“What!”
“You are!” T.J. crowed. “That’s it, isn’t it? That’s why you won’t go out with any of the guys I set you up with! That’s why no one’s good enough! Why didn’t you just tell me? I can find a nice girl for you instead.”
“No,” said Alex. “No, no, no, no, no. No. I am not a lesbian, closet or otherwise. No.”
“No,” T.J. agreed. “I didn’t really think so. We’ve been roommates for three years. I think I would’ve guessed a long time ago, if you were.” The dryer buzzed and fell silent. T.J. stood up. “But you’ll tell me what it really is sometime, right?”
Alex got to her feet and opened the dryer.
“Sometime,” she said. She shoved her clothes into the garbage bag Matt had given her and pulled on her coat and hat, glorying in their warmth. “Let’s go home. Please tell me you drove here.”
“Of course I drove. You’d have to be crazy not to drive in this weather.”
Alex had nothing to say to that. Her car, a 1999 Ford Contour, had decided not to start up after Michigamme let out, forcing her to wait in the school parking lot for half an hour until the tow-truck came and brought her to McKinch’s Garage. She’d grabbed her garbage bag of laundry from the car and walked the almost two miles to Colonial Laundry to wait for T.J. and do laundry for the first time in two weeks. As much as she liked walking around Port Huron, it had been a miserable sojourn. Thank you, Michigan weather.
As he started the car, T.J. asked, “How were the first graders? Did they enjoy their solstice party?”
Alex punched his arm.
“Christmas party, jerk,” she said. “And yes, they did.”
It had been her idea to throw a party on the last day of class, an idea that the first graders’ teacher had welcomed with open arms. While Tuesday was willing to call it a Christmas party, however, T.J. pointed out that a Christmas party was too denominational to have at a public middle school, and that it therefore must be in celebration of something less offensive. Like the winter solstice.
“Santa Clause even visited our class. Right after lunch.”
“I bet Tuesday loved that.”
“Actually, it was him,” Alex admitted. “He didn’t come in this morning, so I thought I was on my own…but then there he was, laughing that great laugh of his, all decked out in a suit and beard. It was a nice beard, too, not one of those cheap polyester things you get at the dollar store.”
“Hey, don’t knock polyester. Where’d he get it?”
“Former student, where else? Some guy who’s almost my age now. I guess he just played Kris in Miracle on 34th Street.”
T.J. sighed dreamily.
“Bet Tuesday looked great in a beard,” he said.
“He’s too old for you, T.J.”
“Hey, missy, I’m twenty-six.”
“Yeah,” said Alex, “and he’s like forty-six. And straight, as far as I know.”
“Good news for you,” T.J. said, elbowing her playfully as he pulled into their parking lot. “You think he’s cute too, don’t you?”
Alex chewed on her thumbnail, picturing Tuesday’s red hair and bright blue eyes and laughter lines and glasses. He looked a good ten years younger than he was, he was so full of energy – and he had that awesome laugh that was explosive and contagious. But he was twenty-three years older than she was, and he was her mentor. Bad idea.
“At least I don’t daydream about what I’d do to him if we were alone together,” she said. “Unlike some people in this car.”
T.J. shrugged and then grinned.
“Fair enough,” he said.
The snow whirled down harder as they pulled into their parking lot. It flew in slanting sheets, piling drifts up in front of the brick apartment buildings. Alex pulled her coat collar up around her face and grabbed her clothes and tote out of T.J.’s car. Together they fought the wind to the door of the first building on the left, wrenched the door open, and hurried into the hall, where they stood wet and steaming in the sudden warmth.
“Thank God,” T.J. said.
They plodded up the stairs to their apartment. At the top, Alex took off her hat and wrung out her hair, wavy and damp again from just the walk from the car to the building.
“I think tonight is a good night to stay home and watch movies,” she said. “All in favor?”
T.J. unlocked the door.
“I’m in favor,” he said, “but that’s not what you’re doing tonight. Hi, Daisy!” --as a Jack Russell terrier ran over to greet them. Her whole body wiggled with joy at her owners’ return. T.J. picked her up and scratched her behind the ear. Alex dropped her bags in an armchair near the door.
“What do you mean, that’s not what I’m doing?” she asked. “Why not?”
“Because you are going out tonight,” T.J. said.
“Out. In this weather.”
“Yes, out.” T.J. plopped down on the couch and turned on the TV. “Let’s see. What is on Demand today?”
“T.J.,” Alex said.
“Ooh, Gone with the Wind! How about that, Daisy? That’s your favorite.”
“T.J.!”
“What?” T.J. asked. Alex raised an eyebrow. “Okay, okay. It may be that I actually told Erick that you would love to go out with him, and it may be that he said he’d pick you up at eight.”
Alex groaned.
“T.J….”
“Nope,” said T.J. “No changing my mind. I told him yes. Go get ready, he’ll be here in an hour.”
Alex stood irresolutely by the door for another moment, and then she sighed and went to her room. She plunked down on her bed and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. There was no good reason she shouldn’t go, except that it was crappy out and she’d never met the guy she was going out with. Actually, scratch that. She’d never met the guy, but what was wrong with a blind date? So really, the only reason she shouldn’t go was that it was crappy out, and it wasn’t like they were going to take a walk. She really hadn’t been on a date in a long time. She should go.
But somewhere in her mind, a little voice of spoke up, sounding indignant. Why does T.J. have to be so nosy? It’s not his job to send us out on dates. Go yell at him. GO YELL AT HIM! And then another voice, one that she’d managed to keep quiet for a while now, reminded her that this guy was probably not as sweet or good-looking or fun as Will, not to mention the fact that he was American and would therefore not have an accent…
Alex sat up quickly, shutting the voice out.
“Okay, I’ll go,” she said.
Forty-five minutes later, she reentered the living room in a black halter-top, her hair blow-dried and straightened.
“Sexy!” T.J. said.
“I’m not sure,” Alex replied. “I think I’m overdressed.”
“Depends on where he’s taking you – there’s the doorbell!” said T.J. “He’s early.”
Alex went to answer the door. It was just one date. What was the worst that could happen?
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