Chapter Four

Calvin’s right – the Laundromat is directly beside the path. I want to run back and thank him but I don’t think I can face Ms. Maroney again. Maybe I’ll catch him on the way home. If he’ll even talk to you after all that.

The Laundromat is deserted except for an older man and a kid about my age that are both staring through the window, as if expecting me.

“Andrea, is that you? You’ve grown into such a beautiful girl,” the older man says right when I open the door. My cheeks burn and I whisper a soft thank you. The boy on the right is eyeing me and I wish I wasn’t dressed so nicely compared to his casual clothes. He doesn’t look too happy where he is and it only makes me more uncomfortable.

“Uh, Tina wanted to give you this book,” I’m almost trembling and look back at the boy out of the corner of my eye. He has a striking resemblance to the older man.

“Yes, Tina did,” the man grins, “my…my wife wants to read that.” His voice is smooth, especially after hearing Tina’s, and I instantly like him.

“Oh, let me introduce myself. I’m Wesley Walters and this,” he gestures to the boy, “is Max. My son.” Wesley!

The boy shuffles his feet around and I think I hear him say ‘hi.’

“We’re good friends of Tina. I’ve known her since she worked here for me, which I believe was around the time you were born, actually. I was just thinking that maybe Max could show you around town, since you’re here all summer. There’s this fantastic restaurant by The Red, where Tina works, that has the greatest food and it is nearly lunchtime.”

Flinging himself off the washer, Max gives me his best ‘I-was-put-up-to-this’ look. I pinch my lips together and follow him out the door. When I look back at Wesley again, I wonder how anyone, specifically Tina, could get so mad at a guy like that. He’s so friendly, so charming.

Max doesn’t talk to me for twenty minutes. I just trail behind him like the caboose of a train, with no idea where I’m going but with no choice but to go. The silence gets so painful that I want to go back to the Laundromat and talk with Wesley. He’s the only one in this town that likes you. Don’t know why, but still.

Max eventually sits down at a table and stares at me until I take a seat.

“I’m going in to order. Whatdoyouwant?” he says.

“Um, what’s good?” I squeak, adding a quick cough to blame it on a sore throat. He gives me a dramatic sigh and says he’ll just pick for me. I have no objections.

The food is some of the best I’ve ever had but I can’t help but notice Max picking at his chicken and mouthing words to himself. When he catches me looking at him he stops and my cheeks flare up again. I quickly take another bite of salad.

“Look. Andrea. I’m not in a good mood today so can you just eat a little faster so I can go?” his eyebrows burrow together, “It’s not that I don’t like you. I’m just here under some bad circumstances.”

“Oh, um, sorry –”

“It’s not that I don’t like you. ”

“Sorry.”

“Stop saying that! Don’t apologize to me. I’m the asshole!”

I can hear my heart pounding through my chest and I cough again, “Okay. Where do you want to go then? We don’t have to talk. I just don’t have anywhere else to go. Tina’s busy and I don’t want to bother her.”

“Tina’s always busy. Wesley’s always busy. Too busy for any of us doesn’t really mean busy,” he snaps.

“Where do you want to go?” I try again.

“I want to go to the beach and rest. I didn’t sleep last night,” he says calmly. I nod.

“Lead the way.”

The beach in Sunset Valley is always carpeted with blankets and hoards of people trying to get a tan or catch a wave.

Twinbrook’s is absolutely bare. Except for Max, who’s already taken a seat on an old log. I stand on the cold sand and scan the area. I see the hospital, a big ugly building in the distance. Across the river there’s this gorgeous house on stilts. I’m immediately fixated on it.

“You don’t want to go there,” I hear Max murmur under his breath. I ask him why not and he says, “It’s the Grouchy Old Man’s house. You know. Every town has one.”

We sit and look at the house for a while and I think I see someone looking out from the window but I brush it away as my imagination.

“Hey, Andrea?” Max says.

“You can call me Andy.”

“Yeah, sure. How old are you?”

“Ten. Eleven in August.”

“I thought so. Me, too.”