Being unable to leave Rumson for the next two hours until my laundry was done ended up being the perfect excuse to avoid the world while I turned this newfound information over and over in my head, especially when Salem got a text and bailed. He promised that if I just moved his clothes over, he’d be back to grab them from the dryer, but I had no desire to see him when he returned from his booty call; I said I’d handle it all. And though he may have been suspicious of my sudden act of kindness, he clearly knew it was better to just take me up on the offer than waste time asking questions. Which left me entirely alone.

I text Sabrina.

Evie

Are you doing anything? I’m doing laundry and I’m bored.

Her reply comes a few minutes later.

Sabrina

Sorry, @ services @ Jewish Students’ Club. Promised mom we’d go for her mother’s yahrzeit.

Huh. So that’s where Salem is, I guess. I mentally apologize for the booty-call assumption.

Evie

I didn’t know you guys were Jewish.

Sabrina

Surprise! *jazz hands*

I start to ask what a yahrzeit is, and then I remember that Google is free.

Evie

Ah, well, happy deathiversary to your grandma

Sabrina

Thx, I’ll pass that along

I don’t know what else to do with my night. I’m not going to a movie by myself, especially if Heather and Lucas might be there. I don’t wanna go upstairs to the lounge, in case some of the more dickish Rumson guys are there, the ones who like to either loudly remind me that the communal bathrooms are off-limits to me or invite me to join them inside. I have no interest in the open gym or open art room or even the open kitchen; if I bake something, it’ll just mean getting stuck waiting in the Student Center after I’ve already been stuck waiting in the laundry room.

With a sigh, I open up the laptop I’d tossed on top of my hamper and get started on the APUSH reading. I more than anyone can’t leave my laundry behind; God only knows where my underwear would end up if I left it unattended in here for even a minute.

Studying: just what all the cool girls do on Friday nights.

I read until the washing machines cease their rumbling and then I move everything over into the dryers and sit and wait again. I’d assumed there’d be at least a few people in and out of the laundry room tonight, but no, turns out no one else is uncool enough to spend their Friday night doing laundry.