Page 90 of Silver Linings
Silver
You could come hang out with me in the laundry room.
Hot Handyman
I don’t know if that’s a great idea, since I’m not actually supposed to talk to you.
Silver
Seems a moot point when you were screaming my name last night.
Hot Handyman
Fuck.
Silver
C’mon. Break the rules and come hang out with me. I’ll behave.
Hot Handyman
Somehow, I doubt that’s true.
I’ll be there in 15 minutes.
I’m giggling as I put a finished load in the dryer then replace the now-empty washer with another load of colors.
This room is far from luxurious. If even a single light went out, it would be quite creepy in here, with its low ceilings, dark stone walls, and singular metal table in the middle of the small room—not to mention the ominous chill from the lack of a radiator. As we creep further into November, it gets more and more drafty down here.
The door creaks open, and my heart jumps, but as I turn around, my heart sinks when I see Mrs. Evans walk in, wicker laundry basket in hand. She gives me a derisive sneer as she ambles toward an open machine, taking her time transferring her clothes. I pray to whoever will listen that she doesn’t linger.
The door creaks open for the second time in minutes, and both me and Mrs. Evans look to the door to see Hendrix stepping through. He sees me and smiles, and then he sees Joyce in the room and freezes for a second, unsure of what to do.
He coughs into his hand to hide his smile, nodding his head at us both. “Just here to check on some…things.”
“No one cares,” Mrs. Evans chides, now aggressively tossing the last of her clothes into the machine and slamming the door shut.
Hendrix starts tinkering around with random objects, tapping on machines with his hammer, checking coils behind the dryers, anything he can think of to bring validity to his story. I have to turn around to hide my silent laughter at his lackluster attempt at a ruse.
Mrs. Evans decides to leave, but not before eyeing my outfit head to toe, her features screwing up in disgust. I inch my way over towards where he’s standing, and the second the door clicks shut, I’m throwing my arms around his neck in an aggressive hug, his strong arms winding around my waist and squeezing tightly.
“I missed you too,” he huffs into my neck.
I pull back and kiss him sweetly before untangling myself. He leans with his back on one of the unused machines, and I hop on the metal folding table across from it so we’re facing each other.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” My voice comes out too high, and his stare says he’s unconvinced.
“You never have to hide from me. I want all of you, good and bad. There’s nothing you can say that will scare me away from you, Sunshine. I’m not going anywhere.”
I suck in a deep breath. “My mom called…just before I came down here.”
He doesn’t miss a beat, concern etched onto his handsome face. “Did you talk to her?”
“No. I just stood there, screened the call, then deleted the voicemail.” I look down at where my hands rest in my lap, fingers picking at my cuticles. “I feel like a coward.”
“Look at me.” His voice is gentle but rings with authority. “Choosing yourself over someone who hurt you beyond compare is not cowardice—it’s bravery. You don’t owe her a conversation or a place in your life. She forfeited that a long time ago. It’s okay to not want to let her in again. You get to choose.”
