Chapter 9
Gen dropped her backpack by the door with a heavy thud. Obviously this would be a serious foray into the woods. But first I was going to have dinner. More importantly, dessert.
The intoxicating smell of yeast pulled us into the kitchen. Des stood in front of the open oven. The aroma of hot, freshly baked bread enveloped me. I stood breathing in the fragrance.
Des set the bread on the counter. Heat from the stove had blushed her cheeks with captivating color and curled a strand of hair around her ear.
Nate nudged me. “You're blocking the doorway, kiddo.”
I cringed. Dad waved his hand at the table. “Sit down and I'll share my newest chapter while we wait for the bread to cool.”
“Why do we want the bread to cool?” I asked. No one answered.
Gen sat between Nate and me. He poured Coke for her, and offered her small meat roll hors d'oeuvres from a china platter. She ate it up - the hors d'oeuvres and the attention. It was disgusting.
Dad cleared his throat and looked up from his laptop. “Okay, last time we saw our hero he had just escaped from the hospital. Now he's out in the world with nothing but a dirty uniform.”
“And no underwear,” Des reminded us.
“And no shoes,” Nate commented as he passed Gen a tray filled with sculpted veggies.
Dad ignored them and began reading.
Industrial washers lined the walls of Joe's Uniforms and Dry Cleaning like a typical Laundromat. But these machines were not coin operated and there were no bored patrons slouching in plastic chairs.
“Name's Joe,” the owner called over his shoulder. “Bring that bin and follow me.”
Jacques strained to navigate the heavy bin through the narrow aisles. It was difficult to keep up with Joe. Before his discovery of the pool on the cliff, he would not have had the strength. Since then he had escaped the jungle and the hospital. Now he just wanted to get away from the smell of the ripe uniforms in the bin.
Two large commercial fans provided a background of white noise, but the air they circulated was far from cool or fresh.
The owner shouted over the noise. “You hit it right. A couple days earlier and I wouldn't have had a job for you. But old Davey called in sick again. Fred up and quit yesterday. Walked out and took his attitude with him.” He stopped in front of one of the machines. “Just bring that up here and I’ll give you the or-ee-un-tation.”
Jacques hauled the cart to a stop and waited. His mind drifted as Joe belabored the steps of loading the machine.
“It looks simple, but you can’t do the job proper if you don’t know all the steps. Am I right?”
Jacques nodded.
“Darned right I am,” Joe said. “Now do you need me to go over it again?”
“No, I got it,” Jacques said.
Joe’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t like cocky. Fred was cocky. Never wanted to listen.”
Jacques quickly added, “You’re a good teacher. Very thorough.”
“Fred must hang out with Doug and Josh,” I whispered to Gen.
“I could picture them working at a Laundromat,” she said.
“Not sure Joe could explain the job to them,” I said.
“Put a sock in it, kiddo,” Nate said. “We're in the middle of the story.”
Dad gave him a bewildered glance, but Nate waved his hand dismissively. Dad continued reading.
Joe dug a wad of bills from his pocket, peeled off several and held them out. “As we agreed, I’ll advance you one night’s pay. Now you bring your ID in tomorrow before your shift starts and we’ll put you on the payroll. We run a clean shop here.” He chuckled at his joke.
“Thank you,” Jacques said.
“That uniform you’re wearing should be in the bin, not on your back,” Joe said. The smug grin was still on his face. “There’s some unclaimed stuff in the back room. You otta change if you can find somethin’ to fit.”
“Maybe he can find some clean underwear,” Des said.
Mom smiled.
Joe ambled out still snorting and snickering to himself.
Jacques counted the money. It would have to do. Enough for a bus ticket, but not much more. Joe would be angry when he didn't show up the next night, but he didn't think he would turn him in.
While the washers were running, Jacques went through the unclaimed clothes and found some that fit. There were extras and he stuffed them into a thin cloth duffel bag that had seen way too many washings. After scrubbing up at one of the large sinks, he used a clean uniform for a towel and added it to the next wash.
A couple hours before the shop opened, he rummaged through the cupboards in the back room and found a pair of scissors. Standing in front of a dim mirror, he stared at the young man in the glass who looked back at him from a distant era. Slowly he tugged at the dark beard and raised the scissors. Ruthlessly he cut off the last two months of growth. When he finished, instead of a beard he had just a shadow on his face. He pulled his hair back in a ponytail and secured it with a rubber band.
When the desk clerk arrived, Jacques looked nothing like the man that Joe had hired the night before. Even if someone from the hospital spotted him, Jacques was confident they wouldn’t recognize him as the escaped patient. An hour later he was slouched in the back seat of a bus headed out of town.
Jacques slept fitfully as the miles passed. When he got off several towns later, his first stop was at a run down hiring agency not far from the border. The man behind the desk looked amused.
“You have no ID? Tell you what. You work for me for a while. I know someone who specializes in finding ID for folks who lost theirs. I’ll give him a call and set you up.”
Suggestions for the story flew around the table. I was concentrating on food, what I could get of it. I tried to stick to the bread and salad. Nate passed dishes to Gen, but quickly took them back again skipping me completely. I would have starved if Des hadn’t intercepted and gave me extra helpings. To my disappointment, there was no dessert.
Dad pushed his plate away and set the laptop in its place. That was my signal to make a hasty retreat. I started to slide back, but my chair wouldn't move.
Nate leaned over me from behind, his strong fingers gripping the back. “Are you forgetting something?” he said softly.
Gen smiled up at him. “Not at all,” she said, and started clearing the table.
I was still tying to figure out how he had gotten up without me noticing.
Nate said, “I’d love to stick around and ponder Jacques dilemmas, but Des has a video to finish for her class.”
Just like that the kitchen was empty except for Gen, me, and the clean up. It didn’t take too long to load the dishwasher. We crept past Dad’s grotto where the tapping of computer keys had a faulty rhythm. Mom settled down in front of the television. Gen and I slipped outside the front door to make our preparations.
“Got the camera?” she said.
I handed it to her.
“Grab the backpack.” She pulled on her coat.
While she checked the camera’s batteries and memory I zipped up my jacket. Smooth the way she had relegated me to carrying the supplies. I slung the backpack over my shoulder and quickly shifted my balance to offset its bulk. “What’s in this thing?”
“Batteries, flashlight, binoculars, water, granola bars. Just the essentials.”
“We just ate. Why do we need food?”
“Always be prepared.” She headed down the sidewalk.