The university provided central
laundry facilities for everyone in married housing but their apartment was at
the edge of the complex and consequently half a mile from them. There was a
little Korean Laundromat right around the corner, however, where the machines
took bigger loads and fewer quarters, so instead of packing everything in the
car and going to use the married housing facilities, Carrie put her two baskets
into a little red wagon, put on her winter coat and mittens, and walked around
the corner.
Daphne was already sitting in one
of the orange plastic chairs, a book open in her lap and two machines spinning
with laundry behind her. She got up to help Carrie with the door, allowing her
to wheel her wagon in unimpeded. They had the place mostly to themselves. There
was just an elderly woman in the corner folding doilies on a table and a
scruffy looking guy asleep in the row of seats on the other side of the
Laundromat, his arms crossed, head back, mouth open, snoring lightly.
“Hey girl.” Daphne let the door
swing closed behind her. “I thought you weren’t coming!”
“Sorry,” Carrie apologized,
flushing. “I got…um… distracted.”
“Oh?” Daphne raised one finely
plucked red eyebrow, putting her book down on the chair beside her and watching
as Carrie opened a machine, starting to put clothes in. “You and Doc doing a
little horizontal mambo this morning?”
“Something like that.” Carrie
laughed, closing the washing machine and digging in her jeans pocket for her
roll of quarters. She loaded up the coin slot, shoving it in and pulling it
back out, hearing the click and first whoosh of the water filling the machine.
“A little frolic in the
cornfield? A romp in the hay?” Daphne teased. “Churning some butter? Batter
dipping the corn dog?”
“We were having sex, not visiting
the county fair.” Carrie snorted, picking up her friend’s book and sitting
beside her. “What in the hell are you reading?”
“Give me that.” Daphne flushed,
grabbing the book out of her hands. It had a picture of a bare-chested man on
the cover and a woman with what couldn’t be described as anything but a heaving
bosom. “While
you
get to do it,
some
of us just get to read about
it.”
Carrie smirked. “You seriously
need a man.”
“You’re telling me?” Daphne
sighed, running a hand through her mass of red hair. It was thick, long and
wavy, the color of a shiny copper penny. She tucked the paperback into the back
pocket of her jeans.
“It’s your own fault.” Carrie
leaned back in her seat. “You could have the pick of anyone on campus.”
The redhead wrinkled her freckled
nose. “Shut up.”
“You could and you know it.”
Carrie nodded at the sleeping guy across the aisle. “You could go up to that
guy right now, wake him up, and ask him to go back to your place, and he’d jump
at the chance.”
“Stop it.” Daphne rolled her
bright blue eyes, crossing her arms. She was wearing a pink Ren and Stimpy
shirt, stretched tightly across her ample chest. She could have modeled for one
of her romance book covers.
Carrie shrugged. “I’m just
saying, you don’t have to just read about it, if you don’t want to.”
“A girl’s got to have some
standards.” Daphne looked at the guy, snoring away across from them, his Doc
Martens sticking out into the aisle.
“Maybe yours are too high,”
Carrie speculated. Daphne snorted, but she wasn’t really offended. They said
things like that to each other. It was one of the reasons they’d gravitated to
each other in the first place, their ability to tell each other the truth, no
matter what the other might think.
She and Daphne had only been
friends for about half a year, having found each other in the Laundromat and
discovering that talking and drinking coffee and eating donuts together for the
few hours it took to do laundry was a much better way to fill the time than
just sitting there watching the machines spin.
They’d found they had a great
deal in common, even if their present circumstances were quite different.
Daphne’s parents had died when she was young, leaving her to be raised by a
maiden aunt. Carrie had never known her parents at all, living most of her
young life in various foster homes. They both knew what it was like to be alone
in the world.
But Carrie had to admit, she felt
a little guilty, having Doc while Daphne had no one.
“What, I should just go over to
Mr. Scruff and say ‘Hey, let’s you and me bump uglies?’”
Carrie glanced over at the guy.
He was a little rough around the edges, but still kind of cute. “Why not?”
“Because he’s not the one.”
Daphne waved the suggestion away, reaching for her purse and pulling out a
stick of gum.
“What are you waiting for?”
Carrie took some Fruit Stripe gum from her friend’s pack.
Daphne chewed thoughtfully,
finally saying, “Mr. Right.”
“I’m afraid he doesn’t exist.”
Carrie blew a bubble and snapped her gum.
“He does too—you found him,
didn’t you?”
“Well…” Carrie felt that stab of
guilt again. Daphne was always telling her how lucky she was to have Doc. And
she knew she was.
“I blame you.” Daphne poked her
lightly in the ribs. “You proved that it’s possible.”
“So what are you doing for
Christmas?” Carrie asked, trying to change the subject.
“You mean, speaking of Christmas
miracles?”
She laughed. “Ho ho.”
“I’ll be working at Blockbuster,
what else?” The redhead tossed her gum wrapper toward the trash can full of
lint and missed. “Me and the Jewish kid are splitting the Christmas shifts.”
Carrie felt guilty about that,
too. Daphne was working her way through school, and although Carrie had her
undergraduate degree and had gone to college in Boston on scholarship and
grants—where she’d met Doc in the first place—she hadn’t really done anything
with her degree since.
Doc said he liked having her
home, and while things got a little tight sometimes, with Doc’s residency
paying just enough for them to live on each month, they really wanted to have a
baby, and she didn’t want to be tied down to a job when that happened. They’d
had one bright moment of hope last year, but she’d miscarried that baby and
hadn’t gotten pregnant again since.
But every time Daphne mentioned
her job at Blockbuster and her diet of Ramen noodles and Kraft Macaroni and
Cheese, Carrie felt a twinge of guilt about not going to school or having a
job.
“What are you guys doing?” Daphne
interrupted her thoughts.
“I don’t know.” She sighed.
“Doc’s parents are talking about going to Key West. They have a timeshare on a
private beach. But I’d miss the snow at Christmas time…”
Daphne scoffed. “Are you kidding
me? You have the chance to spend Christmas on a private beach in Florida and
you’re complaining?”
Ouch. There was that twinge of
guilt again. “I’m not complaining, exactly…”
“Well I’d jump at the chance, if
I were you.” Daphne got up to retrieve the gum wrapper and slam-dunked it into
the basket.
“So you’re all by yourself then?”
Carrie could have kicked herself for the way she’d worded that.
“I’m always all by myself.”
Daphne shrugged, taking her seat again. “Unless I’m with you.”
“I think you should date more,”
Carrie told her emphatically, reaching around and pulling the book out of
Daphne’s pocket. “Spend time with some real guys instead of paper ones.”
Daphne grabbed for the book, but
Carrie held it out of her reach. “It’s kind of hard to have a social life when
you’re pursuing a degree in astrophysics.”
“Yeah, guys are kind of
intimidated by that, huh?”
“To say the least.” Daphne leaned
across Carrie, the fullness of her breasts pressed against her arm. Doc’s
mention of her friend this morning had Carrie looking and thinking about Daphne
in a whole new way. “Gimme my book!”
“Well you could always play
dumb.” Carrie stretched, holding it out further. “What’s in this book that’s so
interesting anyway?
Love’s Unbound Wrath.
What kind of title is that? Do
they actually fuck? Or is it all purple prose? Like
‘He slid his manhood into
her quivering sheath…’
”
Carrie flipped the book open,
scanning the pages, and laughed at her discovery. “Oh my god, you didn’t! You
actually underlined it!”
Daphne turned bright red, her
face almost matching her hair. “Give it back!”
Carrie took aim and made it—the
book dropped into the lint-filled wastebasket. “Two points!”
Daphne flounced over and
retrieved the book from the garbage, shaking it off and putting it back into
her pocket.
“I’m sorry,” Carrie apologized as
her friend took a seat beside her. Daphne relented a little, her posture
relaxing as Carrie slid an arm around her waist. “What we need is to find you a
smart
guy.”
Daphne leaned her head on
Carrie’s shoulder. “No nerds.”
“Hey!” Carrie brightened at her
own idea. “There’s a Christmas party tonight for all the residents. Doc’s
making me go. Wanna come?”
“What an appealing offer.” The
redhead smiled.
“Free food, free drinks—and tons
of eligible doctors.” Carrie leaned closer, her voice dipping to nearly
conspiratorial tones. “
Smart
doctors.”
“One would hope,” Daphne said
wryly.
“Come on, Daph.” She tickled her
friend’s ribs, making her giggle. “Do it for me. It would be way more fun with
you.”
“Hmm. Maybe.” Daphne looked over
at the guy across the aisle. Their antics had awakened him.
“
Cute
doctors…” Carrie
reminded her.
“You got the best one already.”
She grinned. “True, but not the
only
one.”
“Oh hell, why not?” Daphne gave
in, grinning back.
“Hey, I think you’re done.”
Carrie glanced at the row of machines behind them.
Daphne laughed. “Let’s hope
that’s not a euphemism for anything.”
“No, that’s your laundry beeping,
not your pacemaker.”
Daphne laughed, pulling open the
washer, reaching inside for a handful of wet clothes. “What do you think?” She
held up a pair of red panties. Carrie noticed the scruffy guy across the way,
his eyes averted but clearly watching them anyway. “If I wear panties like
this, will I catch a cute doctor for a husband?”
“Maybe if that’s all you wear.”
“It’s a thought.” Daphne held
them up against her crotch, cocking her hip to one side, making her utterly
irresistible. “These and a Santa hat?”
“Cute,” Carrie agreed. “But the
results would likely be a gangbang, not marriage.”
“Or both,” Daphne quipped,
laughing at Carrie’s raised eyebrow look. “Hey, a girl can dream, can’t she?”
“Maybe I should introduce Daphne
to Wilson.” Doc handed Carrie the rum and Coke she’d asked him to fetch from
the bar. He slid in beside her, draping an arm casually across her shoulders.
“Oh, I don’t know, Doc.” Carrie
sipped her drink, glancing toward the bathroom where her friend had disappeared
a few moments before. “He’s on the rebound.”
“So?” Doc knocked back the shot
he’d ordered, making a face and shuddering just slightly. “He’s a cute doctor,
right? He fits the bill.”
“Wilson’s kind of… eccentric.”
Carrie smiled into her glass, seeing him getting his order up at the bar. There
weren’t too many residents with fat, dark ponytails and eyebrow rings. In fact,
Wilson was the only one. But the University of Michigan had accepted him in
spite of his alternative looks—and ideas—and that was a testament to his
intelligence and skill, she knew. He was just
that
good.
Of course, he wasn’t as good as
her Doc.
“I’m a cute doctor.” Doc pouted,
actually sticking out his lower lip at her. “I don’t see why I can’t be on the
list.”
She nudged him, her breath thick
with alcohol as she whispered in his ear. “Because you’re already taken.”
“I know that.” He smiled, sliding
her chair a little closer, so their hips were touching. “But that never stopped
us from having fun before.”
“That was in college.” She knew
what he was talking about. Of course she did. But their foray into threesomes
and seeing other people had been brief and they’d been totally monogamous since
they’d taken their wedding vows. Not that Doc hadn’t mentioned other people
before, and they’d both fantasized, of course, and had even shared those
fantasies with each other.
But they’d been happy enough
without literally bringing other people into their relationship—why was he
bringing this up now? She glanced at him, wondering if it was the booze. Or
maybe he really was bored? That thought terrified her. She wanted to be enough
for him. He was certainly more than enough for her.