Warm and Dry

1. Forest

FOREST

The alarm went off at six forty-five, and I slapped it quiet without opening my eyes. That proved to be a mistake, because the next time I looked at the clock, it was eight twenty-three. Normally fine for a Saturday morning, but I had a game at noon and absolutely nothing ready for it.

When I sat up too fast, I got a head rush and had to grab the edge of the mattress while the room sorted itself out. I guess I needed to remember to eat something before bed so my sugar level didn’t drop so much in the mornings.

Especially on important mornings like today.

We were finally going up against Carson's team, and I'd been looking forward to it all week. Part of that was because I genuinely liked playing them, but mostly it was because Kowalski had been trash-talking their center for the past two weeks, and I wanted to see how that played out in person.

I didn’t know if they were gonna throw down or make out on the ice, but I was there for it either way.

I turned on my coffee pot first because I wasn't a robot, then shuffled to the entryway to check my gear bag. The plan had been to have everything packed and ready last night so I could eat a real breakfast this morning and take my time getting to the rink. But that was one of many plans that didn’t quite work out the way I’d hoped.

I was tired when I got home last night and didn’t have the energy or motivation to unpack after practice, so now I got to do all that instead of having a real breakfast.

Cold Pop-Tart while I organized for the win.

When I opened my bag, I was horrified to see my jersey balled up in mud and gunk. Then I remembered dropping it in a muddy puddle on my way out of the rink last night. And instead of dealing with it immediately, I’d wadded it up and left it to dry in a disgusting mess.

Against any other team on any other day, maybe I’d shake it out and spray some Febreeze on it. But there was no way I could do that against Carson's team. I had some self-respect left. Not a lot but enough to know I had to wash it. Stat.

I threw it in the washing machine with a small load of socks and underwear and set it to quick wash.

That should be done in thirty-two minutes.

With my game at noon, I needed to leave by eleven-fifteen at the latest. I wasn’t starting, so that gave me just enough time to get everything washed and dried before I had to leave, as long as nothing went sideways.

The washing machine cooperated. The dryer did not.

When I put everything in it to start it up, there was a clicking sound and then nothing happened.

I hit the start button again and there was nothing but more clicking.

The drum didn't move an inch. I checked the plug and the lint trap, but nothing worked.

The dryer just sat there being completely useless.

It had been making a weird grinding noise for a few weeks, but it always chugged through the load. The last few times took more than one cycle, but I figured I’d be okay for a while longer. But I should have known that things are only okay until they’re not.

Dammit, I warned people about this every day, and now I was standing here with wet clothes and time ticking down.

As an HVAC tech, I fixed things for a living.

I could probably fix this…but not in the next hour.

Taking these apart was an all-day job, and if I had to order parts, that could take weeks.

I only had a few hours.

It was nine fifteen, and I’d need a good forty-five minutes of drying time to get it wearable.

My backup jersey was at Kowalski's place from when he borrowed it for his cousin's game.

Besides, this was the jersey with my name on the back that we had made for the whole team after our second season. This was the one I needed today.

I pressed my forehead against the top of the dryer for about three seconds and thought about my options.

It was too early to bother any of my friends, but there was a laundromat right down the street.

I'd walked past it a million times on my way to the deli but never once gone in.

Never needed to. But I was desperate, so it had to work.

I shoved everything into a trash bag and grabbed all my gear then headed down to the garage.

Not that it mattered for my clothes, but it was pouring when I got onto the road.

I would have walked, but with my gear bag and the wet clothes, that wasn’t realistic.

But by the time I found parking around the corner, I might as well have just walked the entire way.

I was completely drenched when I got inside, and the lack of other customers was proof that no one in their right mind was out doing laundry in this weather at this time of day.

No one but me.

The laundromat was called Spin Cycle and was more modern than I expected. I’d never actually been inside one before, so I wasn’t sure where to start. Fortunately, there was clear signage that directed me to a wall of dryers that ranged in size from small load to “could-fit-a-sofa.”

I went to one in the middle.

I didn’t have a lot of clothes with me, but I figured more airflow was better to get my stuff dry in the next half hour.

Once my stuff was inside the machine, I looked for a slot to add my credit card, but there wasn’t one. Nor was there an attendant around to help me. Awesome.

There was a kiosk at the end of the wall, so I went to it and hoped the instructions were simple to follow. It was similar to the parking machines downtown, but even after reading the instructions and trying to decipher the diagram twice, it still didn’t make any sense.

There was a button for adding time, which seemed like the right place to start, but when I pressed it, the screen offered me five minutes for a dollar-fifty, and I couldn't find any option for selecting a full cycle or adding time in any increment larger than five minutes.

What kind of drying could get done in five minutes?

I pressed the buttons and slid my card through the scanner ten times, but the dryer stayed dark.

There was a customer service number printed at the bottom of the screen, so I tried calling it, but it went straight to voicemail. They would be open on Monday morning.

I swiped my card again and still nothing happened. My wet jersey was at the top of the pile, mocking me and my inability to do the most basic adulting. It was a fucking clothes dryer. Why wouldn’t it start?

Something behind my eyes burned, and I squeezed them shut to hold back all the frustration brewing inside me.

Breaking down in the middle of a public laundromat was not okay for a twenty-four-year-old man.

I should’ve been able to get this to work.

And if I couldn’t, I should be able to keep my shit together without a fucking meltdown.

My knees buckled, and I slid down to the floor with my back against the dryer. The fluorescent light on the ceiling was so bright and my wet clothes clung to my skin like I’d just jumped into a swimming pool.

I was fine. Everything was fine. I just needed a minute to take a breath, and then I'd get up and figure it out.

After a few tears escaped, I’d really, really get up.