‘What look?’
‘That one,’ he said, pointing at my face. I felt myself blush. ‘You were just… normal. Until tonight.’
Until tonight, I thought, hearing Maggie and Esther saying these same words, only an hour earlier. Eli was still rummaging around in the drawer, his head ducked, and I thought of him that day on the pier with Thisbe, how easily he’d reached down to pick her up. There are a lot of ways to comfort someone. The elevator was only one of the unexpected ones.
‘You know,’ I said, leaning against the doorjamb, ‘I’m actually really relieved to hear you say that. Because I don’t want to feel sorry for you.’
‘You don’t,’ he said, not looking up.
‘Nope. The truth is, I’m actually kind of angry with you.’
‘Angry?’ I nodded. He lifted his head: now, I had his attention. ‘And why is that?’
‘Because you almost got my ass kicked tonight.’
‘I did?’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Like you didn’t know that was your girlfriend I was talking about,’ I told him. ‘Not to mention looking at while I was talking about.’
‘Hold on,’ he said. ‘She’s –’
‘You just let me stand there and shoot off my mouth,’ I continued, ignoring this, ‘and then, when she came after me…’
‘She came after you?’
‘She poked me in the chest and called me a skank,’ I said. He raised his eyebrows. ‘And meanwhile, you’re off eating cupcakes somewhere.’
‘Excuse me,’ he said, pushing the drawer shut, ‘but you were the one who told me to eat the cupcakes.’
‘When I didn’t know my life was in danger!’ I sighed. ‘All I’m saying is that you kind of left me out there to fend for myself. Which was not very cool.’
‘Look,’ he said, ‘Belissa is not my girlfriend.’
‘You might want to tell her that,’ I replied. ‘If you can, you know, make time during all that cupcake eating.’
Eli was just looking at me, his expression hard to read, and again I felt like squirming. But not for the same reasons. At all.
‘What are you really doing out so late?’ he asked.
‘I don’t sleep at night.’
‘Why not?’
‘It used to be because my parents were up fighting,’ I said. ‘But now… I don’t know.’
This answer was like a reflex, coming without thinking. Eli nodded, then said, ‘So what do you do to pass the time? Other than not riding bikes.’
I shrugged. ‘Read. Drive. At home, I have a twenty-four-hour diner I really like, but here there’s only the Wheelhouse, which is less than ideal.’
‘You’ve been going to the Wheelhouse?’ He shook his head. ‘The coffee there is terrible.’
‘I know. Plus the waitresses are mean.’
‘And it’s not like you’re taking up a table someone else wants.’ He sighed. ‘You should be going where I go. Open twenty-four/seven, great coffee, and pie.’
‘Really,’ I said. ‘That’s the trifecta.’
‘I know.’
‘Wait, though,’ I said. ‘I have Googled every single restaurant for fifty miles, and nothing came up but the Wheelhouse.’
‘That,’ he said, ‘is because my place is a local secret.’
‘Oh, right.’ I leaned back against the doorjamb. ‘Of course. The local thing again.’
‘Yep,’ he said, reaching down to grab a canvas bag from beside the desk, and hoisting it over his shoulder. ‘But don’t worry. I think I can get you in.’
‘This,’ I said, ‘is not a restaurant.’
That much was obvious by the row of coin-operated washing machines on one side of the room, the dryers on the other. Not to mention the tables lined up for folding in between, a few plastic chairs, and a machine dispensing small boxes of detergent and fabric softener with an OUT OF ORDER sign taped over it.
‘I didn’t say it was a restaurant,’ Eli said as he walked over to a machine, plopping his canvas bag down on top of it.
‘You didn’t say it was a Laundromat,’ I pointed out.
‘True.’ He pulled a bottle of Tide out of the bag, then dumped the bag’s contents inside. After he fed in some quarters, and water began to slosh across the glass front, sudsing immediately, he said, ‘Follow me.’
I did, albeit hesitantly, down the row of washers and dryers to a narrow hallway, which ended with a plain, white door. He knocked twice, then pulled it open, gesturing for me to go through first. Initially, I hesitated. But then, sure enough, I smelled coffee. And that was enough to push me over the threshold.
Which, honestly, was like stepping into a different world. Gone was the linoleum and shiny appliances. This place was dim, the walls painted a deep purple. There was one window, a string of multicolored lights tacked up over it, and a few small tables. Right by the back door, which was open, a warm breeze blowing through, was a small counter. An older guy with black hair streaked with white was sitting behind it, reading a magazine. When he looked up and saw Eli, he smiled.
‘Yo,’ he called out. ‘I thought you might turn up tonight.’
‘I was running out of shirts,’ Eli replied.
‘Well, then.’ The guy put his magazine aside, then stood up, rubbing his hands together. ‘What can I get for you?’
‘That depends,’ Eli said, walking over to the counter and pulling out a stool. I was about to do the same when he gestured at it, and I realized it was for me. ‘What’s on the menu?’