Black shoes and washer machines

The clanking of quarters and the work of the washers invade this small bright room. It makes my eyelids heavy but it makes my mind anxious. The contrast of the inside to the outside is unnerving. The sky is as black as that pacing men's shoes. The four of us say nothing. We would rather let the turning of our cloths in these machines that do not belong to us do the talking.

I can feel his dirty eyes staring at my unrealizing face. The hair on my neck is the only thing telling me of him. I match his stare. He doesn’t move until his feet kick the unswept floor and he decides to stare at them instead. I don’t look at mine, but study him. He’s wearing a motorcycle shirt with a logo that I don’t recognize. His once blue jeans are now ripped and black in spots. The down turn of the sides of his eyes and the light wrinkles running down his face soften him. Makes him look and feel more safe for some reason.

I turn my attention to an obese old lady standing next to the coin machine. She wears a floral pink shirt that comes down to her knees and she’s sticking out her tongue making her look inhumane. Out of no where she blurts out a profanity o load it makes me jump. Shes mad at the coin machine for not accepting her crinkled ten dollar bill. She stuffs it back into the unwillingly slot and waits impatiently. Feeling the ladies frustration, it finally accepts it, and gives her her coins. Collecting them into a plastic bag she waddles away.

The fourth of us keeps pacing in and out of my sight. I watch his dark black sneakers move back and forth through the room weaving across the dryers and washers. A loud beep resonates throughout and I hear his feet padder towards it. He steps in front of it to examine. When I know hes about to turn around I avert my eyes so he doesn’t know I was watching his black shoes. He seems like the type who wouldn’t like that.

I hear him start to walk again and my mind wanders. I start to think of tomorrow and all the things that I need to do. I need to study for the exam on wednesday, and write another essay. I need to buy food, and gas, and I need a second job. I can’t juggle this one but I tell myself that the stress is still not enough. Suddenly, the man's noise stops. I lift my eyes an inch to see dirty black shoes. I dart my head up so fast I feel a little light headed. A red face is staring back at me.

“The one over there is done.” I have no idea what this guy is talking about, and I know that that reads on my face. He motions a finger behind him pointing at a dryer with clothes sitting in it. I start to ponder why he thinks he needs to tell me this when he says, “Is it yours?”

“Oh! No, mine is in the wash right now.” He gives me a curt nod and turns abruptly on his heals. “Thank you though.” He doesn’t acknowledge me but instead, continues outside letting the door shut behind him. As soon as the hinge of the door connects again, its separated by a women rushing towards the dryer that wasn’t mine.

She speaks so loudly on the phone not realizing the peace shes disturbing. Pulling out the various clothing, she pinches the phone in between her shoulder and cheek, telling the person on the other side that she should be home in less than twenty minutes. Placing the white basket on her hip, she leaves. She came and went so fast, it left me with a headache. I look over at the guy on the left and he’s staring again. He doesn’t falter his stare this time. We’re locked into a war until a loud beep signals him, and he gets up to move to it. I silently watch him until my beep signals me shortly after. My washer is across from his making us be back to each other.

Once I fish all of my clothes out of the wash and into my blue square basket, I bring it to it’s next destination. I only find two quarters in my back pocket so I head over to the coin machine to get more. I doubtfully examine my one dollar and expect that it will deny me. The old lady glances over at me as she starts to walk out the door. I hear a load hough as she waddles over to me.

“That dumb thing won’t except that.” she says staring at my abomination of a dollar bill. “Here, I’ll give you four quarters and you give me that.” I just watch her shake around her coin purse looking for quarters to give me. Her coin purse is purple and covered in animated cats with big eyes. I slightly wonder if she houses that many cats. She extracts four coins and places them into my cold hand. I hand over the dollar she accused of not being good enough, and then she leaves. I knew I didn’t know her at all, but for some reason I felt like I would miss her. I watch her go and I suddenly get mad for her leaving me here with the others.

I look back over my shoulder to see the man who can’t sit still standing in the middle of the walkway. Shamelessly watching me think. I slowly turn my head back around and act like this is an normal thing for someone to do. I push my feet forward to the dryers. I didn’t hear him come back in. I thought my ears were wired to follow his black shoes.

After I successfully push the start button on the dryer I return to my seat next to the man. He is standing there casually folding his clothes on the table that sat in between us before. He’s closer now so I smell his musky smell. He smells of marlboros and fabric softener. I try to sneakily check on black shoes and he’s still standing in that spot. His legs evenly spaced about and fists clenched. His wide black eyes are staring right at mine.

My heart jumps and I put my head down. He doesn’t move so I know hes still staring. I sneak a look at the man on my left and he’s looking at me too. He raises his eyebrows as he folds a dark green sweater. I want to ask him to help me or make that man go away but I don’t.

I try to slouch lower in my chair and away from the guy who is still positioned where I left him. Still staring. Out of the corner of my eye I see the man on my left sigh with his whole body and grab his big white basket. As he starts to walk past me, he gives me a small smile and opens the door.

I feel myself start to freak out. He can’t leave me here with him. Leave me here to be scared of him doing or not doing anything. I want to cry as he pulls his truck away from the building making his headlights shine against the window behind me. I quickly get up and race over to see how much time is on the dryer. 30 minutes. They won’t be dry at all but I consider taking them anyway. I tell myself I’ll check on the guy one more time to see if I’m being irrational or not.

I walk backwards a few more steps and try to casually look in the direction he was standing. He isn’t there. I spin around in a circle trying to find his location but I don’t see him. I’m left alone. Or maybe I not.