The Laundromat and the Duffle Bag

You could hear a pin drop in the usually cacophonous, bohemian-styled dorm room. In a confession circle, roommates Leila, Rachel, Corine, and Alicia sat frozen. Every so often they glanced toward the daunting duffle bag adjacent to them. Mirroring each other's body language, they remained rattled and motionless. It was almost as if the cast of That’s 70s Show had suddenly strayed from their blissful, frolicsome Fox abode and sheepishly, if not ignorantly, wandered straight into the unsympathetic, hospitable arms of an HBO drama.

At the center of their makeshift think tank was a fishbowl. Absent from the bowl, of course, was Tony their Goldfish. Tony had been temporarily moved into a mason jar in an effort to address the elephant in the room. Multi-colored sticky notes were sprawled across the floor. Some of them balled up, some ripped in two, most of them lay right at the base of the trash.

They sat for what seemed like hours, jotting down ideas, solutions, and suggestions. Anything they imagined could help their predicament was written down and then abruptly crossed out and replaced with something else or tossed. All while the insignificant, but previously agreed upon, midnight deadline lingered in the air as the minutes dwindled.

Who among them knew that a night of laundry and fast food would halt their seemingly otherwise typical Sunday night? You know McDonald's, Icees, junk food, fluff and fold, the works. How were they to know that their detergent pods, fabric softener, and dryer sheets, hidden in the wall behind a picture framed cat, lay an eerily familiar little black book? Nothing but Carpe Diem written inside and a poorly drawn map of the alley behind the building.

Maybe it would lead to nothing, maybe it would lead to their stolen items, maybe it would just be a night of adventure that they could tell their future children about. Was someone playing a joke on them? It was all hypotheticals and fun and games until it led to treasure but not the Indiana Jones kind...the Ocean’s Eleven kind. A duffle bag full of money.

Slowly each of them slid off their seats and placed a sticky note in the bowl. First Rachel, then Corine, followed by Alicia, and then finally Leila, all without making a sound or eye contact. Corine reached down to retrieve the bowl and shook it.

She then nervously read the first one out loud.

We should just split the money four ways and pretend like this never happened because let’s face it. We are in college, broke, and are facing the next 10 years of our life tethered to student loans.

The roommates turned and faced Alicia, deducing that this had been her idea. She shrugged and then glanced at the empty McDonalds bags atop the undone laundry.

Everyone nodded in agreement and Corine handed the bowl to Leila. Bracing herself for the possibility of a solution, but knowing who she lives with, she pulled out the next note.

One word. Seance.

The roommates shifted to face Rachel. With her hands folded and her legs crossed, she solemnly nodded. Corine shot a traumatized looked in her direction. Leila reminded her that they held an unsuccessful seance last week in order to find her AirPods, and as a result of said seance now felt that their dorm was haunted.

Rachel smirked mischievously and accepted the bowl from Leila. She then read the next note.

I spilled coffee on my laptop the other day and Apple said my insurance expired. So I’d love a new laptop. But I also think that it could be drug money or you know heist money so maybe we should bury it somewhere and deal with this after finals?

Laughter erupted, knowing it had to be Leila. It was a nice way to momentarily break up the tension. But sure enough, the smiles faded as midnight grew closer and the gravity of the situation settled in.

Rachel then handed the bowl to Alicia. She sighed as she reached down into a nearly empty bowl and swirled the last note around. They leaned forward.

Give it to charity and make it their problem. Or put the money back because we don’t need that drama. Or take some of it and then put it back? I don’t know this is my first time finding money.

Their eyes darted straight to Corine, they all sat back in their seats.

Moments later, Leila’s alarm went off. Alicia reached the duffle, peering in at the crumpled, disheveled bills that filled the bag to the brim. She turned back to her friends.

Saddened by the reality of their situation they knew what they had to do. They haphazardly put the living room back as it was and dismantled their circle. An agreement had been made at the laundromat that when midnight came around if they had not come up with a serious, formidable solution they would do what anyone would do, the right thing.

The next morning they sat somberly around the kitchen table. Each one clutched a mug with steaming untouched coffee. The duffle bag now served as the table centerpiece, replacing the wilted flowers in the empty Casamigos bottle. After exchanging glances and one last look, they stood up, got dressed, and left their dorm.

Across the street from the corner laundromat, the friends stood side by side shellshocked as the numerous firemen and police officers swarmed the scene. The little black book? Tucked in the duffles front pocket. The duffle? At their feet. The laundromat? Ablaze in flames. They remained there, watching the scene unfold as what used to be a regular Sunday night hangout spot, turned to a pile of rubble and ash.

Rachel gasped, getting the attention of the others. Corinne grabbed the duffle and tucked it under her arms.

“This is an active crime scene and I’m going to need you all to move along.” A detective said.

“Crime? What crime? It’s a laundromat, it’s our laundromat. Why would there be a crime?” Rachel stammered.

“They know.” She accidentally whispered. Leila nudged her and she dropped her head.

“Are you alright? You’re sweating” he said.

“She’s fine, it’s just you know the fire. Yup the fire. It makes her sweat.” Alicia struggled to reply.

“From across the street?” Leila whispered to Alicia with a look and then turned to the officer, “Sorry officer we’re just leaving.”

“The fire?” He replied.

“Fire? She meant finals, right Alicia? I’m sorry about the mix-up, she was thinking finals but seeing the fire. Silly mistake.” Leila said.

They nervously laughed and Corine clutched the bag tighter.

“Right.” He said as he looked at Corine holding the duffle.

“It’s just my gym bag.” She nervously replied. She followed his gaze as he looked down at the notebook. “It's a Moleskine, I take notes of the various stretches I want to try.”

They all froze and waited for his confused borderline suspicious look to subside.

“Right. And you come here often?” He said, “She mentioned it’s your laundromat.”

“Is a laundromat ever ours?" Corrine laughed it off. "It's a community space. You know sometimes packed, sometimes not, Wash, dry, fold, and that’s really the extent of it. They’re pretty good but as you can see it might be a while before they open again. But there’s this really great place about five minutes away.”

“Thanks for the tip." He said laughing as he handed them his card. "If you hear of anything let me know. Every bit of information is helpful and encouraged.” He smiled suggesting he could tell they were hiding something.

They smiled dryly to try and avoid further suspicion. As they trudge off, casually glancing back at their opportunity to come clean and come forward with what they know, they contemplated that they might regret their decision with every step they took.

Back in their dorm, stretched out on their make-shift couch resembling more of a love seat, they passed a bowl of popcorn back and forth. A week had passed since the incident. On the end table, a new MacBook Pro rested, plugged into the TV by an HDMI cord. Multiple notifications flashed across the screen abruptly, interrupting a Fast and Furious marathon.

One after another they read,

Loan payment received!

Your order for the Ouija board is en route!

Thank you for your recent donation to Hearts of Hope!

SECURE: RE: Follow up with Detective Sanchez and your reward.

Through the slightly ajar closet door, tucked behind the vacuum cleaner, the black duffle rested, empty of all contents except the little black notebook.