"There Was Something in the Wash." #ReedsyTalk

Trigger Warning: This short story contains some Mild Language, and Suspense.

There Was Something in the Wash

      Today, something went wrong. Horribly wrong, and butterflies filled Gracie’s stomach as she approached her boss. Gracie was pale skinned, and red-headed. Absolutely beautiful from every angle. One would think she was rich from her appearance, but she wasn’t.

           “What is it?” said her boss.

           “Ink, madam.” Replied Gracie.

           “Ink?”

           “Black ink in the wash. I’m afraid one of your black pens made it into the washing machine, and…”

           “Are you accusing me of…”

           “I am not accusing as it is up to me to check all of the pockets.”

           “Right, then. Has anything been ruined?”

           “The entire load.”

           “What?!”

           “All of your nice, white shirts with the breast pockets- the ones you keep your pens in- ruined.”

           “Oh, dear God.”

           “I’m sorry, madam.”

           “As you should be.”

           “I should’ve been more careful.”

           “Yes, because I have an engagement at five, and I must have a clean, white shirt. I must. So, you must go to town and fetch one.”

           “Madam, as you know, I do not drive.”

           “Walk, then.” Said madam with a harsh tone. Gracie sighed.

           “As you wish, but Madisson to Main?”

           “You’ll be fine. Now, chop, chop! On you go. Now, I guess I shall have to prepare the chicken piccata for tonight, myself.”

           They were building a city within a city in Arkansas on Madisson that would be complete with its own shopping centers, food courts, and parks with bike trails, but since it was still under construction, the sidewalks were closed all the way to Main. When they constructed this, they only cared about the traffic flow, but not about those who walked. This truth became known to Gracie as she approached an orange sign that some angry pedestrian had knocked over and spat on. The sign read, “SIDEWALK CLOSED,” and Gracie lifted her dress, and pissed on the sign right there in the rain- something angry people do in protest of something they do not like. The rain poured down harder, and harder, and harder, and Gracie opened her brand-new umbrella to shield herself from the icy rain. By this time, her makeup was gone. It dripped into her eyes, her mouth, and all the way down to her garters. Her dress grew stains from a beautiful, red dye that she had applied to her hair the night before. Disappointed, Gracie walked onward.

           The closed sidewalk was a nightmare. Approximately one foot wide, the splits in the walkway were overgrown with weeds that had thistles. They told Gracie, “One wrong step, and we’ll throw you right in front of the next semi.” It was one mile to the store, and one mile back, and Gracie could not wait for the trip to end. Umbrellas never lasted with Gracie. She would pick one up, and she would speak to it. “Come with me, trusty servant. Come away with me.” She would say. “Protect me.”

           She came to a bridge. It was a short bridge, and there were no sidewalks around it. A construction worker yelled at her.

“What do you think you’re doing, lady?”

“I’m just trying to cross the bridge!” She yelled back.

“Well, walk in the street as fast as you can! We don’t need you holding up traffic!”

           So, she did. She walked right in the middle of the street, thus, holding up traffic. Horns blared at her as she walked slowly, and carefully down the center of the street in the rain. The wind picked up, and nearly broke her umbrella. She grabbed onto it as if her life depended on it. Why, of all days, did she choose to wear a nice, white dress to work? It was ruined and would cost her a full-days wages to replace.

           Main street came quite quickly to her. She had almost arrived at her destination. She pressed the button on the crosswalk sign, so that she could safely cross the street during heavy traffic. It did not work. She pressed the button again, and she swore when it did not work the second time. When the light turned green, she ran across the street as fast as she could. Terrified, she made it. She made it across the street and saw the shop that had the clothes for her boss’s engagement crisis. The sign on the door simply said the word, “Clothes.” What a brilliant marketing idea, she thought. As she approached, she realized that she would never be important enough to attend one of madam’s engagements. That she would always be the help. Someone in traffic whistled at her, and screamed, “Hey, hot mamma! What you doing for dinner tonight?” She continued onward. She was bold. She had to get the shirts as she was told.

           Gracie banged wildly on the glass door- desperate to get inside out of the rain. An Asian woman yelled through the glass.

“We open in one minute! See the sign?”

           The rain grew stronger, and it began to hail. Then the thunder hit, and it hit hard. Gracie’s expensive umbrella broke under the pressure of the hail, and the wind picked up even more.

“Okay, okay!” shouted the wretched shop owner as she scrambled to unlock the front door for her needy customer. Gracie kicked the front door with her wet, muddy right boot, and on her third kick, the door flew open, and Gracie’s boot heal slid on the store’s freshly mopped floor. The heal broke, causing Gracie to do the full-on splits right in the shop’s entry way. The door pinched her right leg as it was half-way in the shop, and her left knee was skinned, and it didn’t want to go into the store with the freshly mopped floor.

“Wait there! Wait there!” said the deranged shop owner as she set out an orange, “WET FLOOR,” sign ahead. “I’ll help you! I’ll help you!” she yelled. Not the first time Gracie had been yelled at that day.

           Gracie continued to do the splits in the entry way. Her panties, and what-nots continuously soaked up water. Now, the right boot’s heal had broken in the fall, and the left boot was fully constructed. Not broken at all.

After the wretch swallowed down two oysters, she yelled again, “What you need, lady?” Gracie, out of breath, simply replied, “I’ll find what I need.”

As Gracie shopped, she regretted urinating on the sign in public, but then a rack of freshly pressed, white button-up shirts with breast pockets caught her eye.

“These will do.” She said to herself. She picked out three and took them to the front register to check out from the woman she felt did not deserve her business.

“Forty-two- fifty,” the idiot shop-owner said. Gracie only had forty dollars that her boss had given her. She would have to dip into her savings to cover the rest of the cost.

“Have a nice day.” Said the wretched idiot. Bags in hand, Gracie moved forward for what? Seven dollars an hour, and no bonus in sight. She moved onward in the rain protecting the clothes that were to be worn that night.

           The hail had stopped, but the rain continued. It’s crazy how quick hail comes and goes. She thought, but there were darker clouds moving in, and she knew that the rain was about to hit full blast. She could feel a warm wind hit her sopping wet body. The air had gone from icy to warm, and the greenish sky spelled out one thing- tornado!

           Gracie raced to the crosswalk as the loudest thunder she had ever heard shook her to her core, and with her broken umbrella, and three shirts in hand, she moved onward across the crosswalk one limp at a time.

           On her way back to her madam’s house, Gracie approached the bridge. Bleeding quite heavily, Gracie walked right in the middle of the street as previously instructed. The guard was gone, and Gracie held up traffic. A car honked at her, and this made her angry, but she continued to walk, and made it safely across the bridge as the rain cleared up. With her madam’s house in sight- she moved faster just desperate to get to a safe place.

           As Gracie approached, butterflies filled her stomach for the second time that day. She opened the front door and went inside dripping rainwater, and red dye on the floor she had mopped that morning. Blood dripped down her leg, but she hadn’t realized it had gotten on those clean, white shirts. Madam anxiously greeted Gracie in the atrium.

“The engagement has been cancelled. Damn tornado warnings!” She said. Then she had the gall to ask- “Is that blood? Did you get blood on my shirts?”

“I’m so sorry, madam. I wasn’t aware I was bleeding. I can use peroxide, and…” Gracie tried to say.

“Never mind. Just throw them away. Tomorrow, you can get new ones. That’ll give you something to do. The sun will be shining. It’ll be a nice walk.”

           Gracie’s jaw dropped. A tear fell. She went outside, and she looked out toward the path she had just traveled. She saw a rainbow appear, and she smiled for the first time that day. She then went inside and ate all the chicken piccata herself without her boss noticing. It was good, but could she have done better?