Wash 3
Teddy sat cross-legged on the bed, methodically folding and sorting the dried clothes spread across
the sheets. His fingers worked on autopilot, bundling shirts and pants into neat stacks before slipping
them into white cloth bags. With a ballpoint pen, he scribbled the names of his customers on scraps of paper
and tucked them inside each bag, ensuring no mix-ups in tomorrow’s deliveries.
His eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. Way past midnight. Sylvia still wasn’t home.
A tight knot of worry formed in his chest. He reached for his phone, then cursed under his breath—of course,
it wasn’t working. He hadn’t paid the bill. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, feeling the weight of sweat
forming on his brow. He hated this, the helplessness, the waiting.
Then, the apartment door slammed open.
Sylvia staggered inside, heading straight for the bed before collapsing onto the freshly folded laundry.
A bottle of beer dangled from her hand, half-spilled, her cherry-patterned skirt in shambles—ripped at the hem, stained.
Her hair was tangled, her smeared lipstick making her look like a fading ghost of herself.
Teddy’s stomach twisted. “What the hell, Mom?”
Sylvia groaned, sitting up just enough to chug the last of her beer before chucking the empty bottle out the open window.
A distant clatter echoed from below.
Teddy ran a hand down his face. “Fuck, why are you crazy tonight?”
Sylvia gave a breathy laugh, leaning back. “Just tired.”
“Where’s Miguel?”
She snorted, dragging her fingers through her disheveled hair. “Dumped him.”
Teddy stiffened. “What? Why? Did he—did he hurt you?”
He sat beside her,
taking her wrist and checking for bruises.
Sylvia waved him off, sighing dramatically. “I just don’t like him. Bored.”
Bullshit. Teddy’s jaw clenched as realization settled in. Miguel had dumped her.
He forced a smile. “It’s okay, Mom. You’ll find someone new. Someone better than Miguel.”
Sylvia’s expression shifted. Her stare turned cold as she stood, walking toward the cracked wall mirror.
She touched the jagged glass as if seeing herself for the first time in years.
“I wasn’t always like this, Teddy.” Her voice was distant, hollow. “I was young. Vibrant. Beautiful. When I stepped into a room,
people noticed. Men wanted me. But you—your father, or whatever you want to call him—left me when I got pregnant.
My life was over. I was barely twenty. I could’ve had something better. Dated richer men. Lived an amazing life.”
She turned to face him. “But look at me now.” She gestured around the tiny apartment. “Look at this mirror, cracked.
Look at this life. I feel like we’re living inside a washing machine. Look at all these clothes, Teddy.” She sneered at the laundry bags.
“They’re not even mine. Why do I have to live with them?”
Teddy swallowed hard, stepping closer. “Mom…”
She scoffed. “You ruined me.”
The words sliced through him, but Teddy refused to let them sink in. Instead, he grabbed a soft cloth and gently wiped
the smeared lipstick from her face. The red streaks vanished, leaving her looking vulnerable—bare.
“There. Good as new.”
Sylvia chuckled darkly. “I’m an old hag.”
Teddy forced a grin. “Nah, you’re still a pain in the ass.”
Sylvia’s lips quirked before she sighed. “I need money.”
Teddy pulled a few crumpled bills from his pocket and handed them over. “Go out with your
creepy friends, Betsy and Letty, right?”
Sylvia snatched the cash and smirked. “They’re not creepy.” She started counting the money.
“Betsy lives in a flashy condo
downtown with her model boyfriend. Letty’s man just bought her a shiny BMW. How’s that for rich coolness?”
“They’re in their twenties, Mom. They can get all the guys they want.”
Sylvia rolled her eyes, then bent down and retrieved something from under her bed. A book.
She tossed it onto the mattress beside him.
Teddy blinked. “You… bought me a book?”
Sylvia shrugged. “You need to learn how to read, Teddy.”
A laugh almost bubbled out of him. The ridiculousness of it. How the hell was he supposed
to read a book when he didn’t
know how? He had never gone to school. Since he was eight, he had been too
busy scrubbing shirts, rinsing sheets, folding towels.
Day in, day out. Laundry was all he had ever known.
Still, he tucked her in, pulling the blanket over her tired frame.
“I need more cash,” she mumbled. “Betsy bought this Italian leather jacket I really liked.”
Teddy sighed, fishing out the last of his money and placing it into her waiting hand.
“I’ll give you more when I get paid.”
Sylvia hummed in satisfaction, closing her eyes.
Teddy sat beside her, staring at the book she had given him.
Reality settled over him like a weight—he couldn’t read.
He had never had the luxury of learning. He had no future beyond this.
Just endless piles of damp clothes, soap bubbles,
and tired hands scrubbing fabric.
He felt something warm slide down his cheek.
Pathetic.
He was pathetic.
