DOWNTOWN SUDDS

The low humming buzz of a dozen washers, the ever-slow tick of the clock on the dry broken wall strips of paint slowly peeling down from years of water damage a clear spot of mold forming behind the paint making it a darker shade of blue than the rest of the wall.

“Just another Tuesday afternoon.” A deep sigh escaped Wilsson as he sat in one of the many hard back plastic chairs bolted to the far wall. Every week the same old routine.

Wilson tapped away on his phone trying to sync the Bluetooth feature to his headphones. Maybe some music hell, even a YouTube video would be better than sitting here waiting for his clothes in the washing machine.

“Honestly this sucks I wish I could afford my own washer and dryer but no rent and bills, man come on let me listen to some music you stupid cheap phone.” Wilsson aggressively tapped the Bluetooth icon, quickly doing a small fist pump into the air when it finally connected. He scrolled through the playlist before selecting a song.

As the music drowned out the dull lifeless sounds of washing machines and dryers Wilsson took in his surroundings a little more, over by the front door sat Mrs. Mayweather the owner of Down Town Sudds, she was an older women in her mid-sixties, her hair long and tied into a bun was a mix of white and gray, though if you look at the picture on the wall from when she opened the place she once had a bright mop of reddish hair. Her skin was wrinkled like a well-aged raisin. And despite her thick bifocal glasses her eyes still shown a bright baby blue.

As usual, Ms. Mayweather sat next to Mr. Chang, he owned the small grocery store right around the corner and it was obvious to everyone he was sweet on Ms. Mayweather. Though it was clear she didn’t mind the attention. In the Far corner of was a small antenna tv usual playing some sports game in Spanish though the picture was never to clear to see exactly what was going on. Ms. Mayweather bought that tv her first year after opening and like she always says, “if it isn’t broke don’t fix it.”

Just outside was a small table made from an over turned trash can and two older gentlemen of color sitting on old milk crates playing chess, Mr. Doge and Mr. King both just getting off work and waiting for their laundry of course this was also the only time Mr. Doge didn’t have to deal with his wife if you asked him. Even though Mrs. Doge was just across the street in their apartment. Wilsson lived right next door to them, so he was often asking Mr. Doge for a ride to class or to work, And Mrs. Doge was kind enough to provide him with a lunch now and then.

“And that is check Erick my friend.” Mr. Doge crossed his arms looking smug as he placed his rook onto the chess board.

“Ah hell, oh well it was a good game, James. Another match before I must head home.” Mr. King rubbed his knees as he looked at the bored in the twenty years the two of them had been playing, Mr. King had only beaten Mr. Doge a handful of times.

Though Wilsson knew better than to play chess against Mr. Doge, despite the fact he was a mechanic and owned his own shop being his next-door neighbor and often eating at their table Wilsson and seen more than his fair share of Mr. Doge’s chess trophies from state all the way up to international league trophies Mr. Doge was a mildly famous chess champion.

“Wilsson you about ready to head back or do I have time to beat this old fool one more time.”

“Who you are calling old, swing music was still popular when you were in high school James.” Mr. King said as he reset the board.

Both men as well as Mr. Chang and Ms. Mayweather laughed since they were all roughly the same age.

“Swing Music, Ha you just lucky that you weren’t around in my country to hear Chinese jazz.” Mr. Chang made the joke more like life by playing an air saxophone.

“You don’t even like American jazz Jin.” Mr. Doge pointed out the Mr. Chang’s point was invalid any way do to his dislike of the music genre.

Finally, the buzzer on the washing machine went off and Wilsson got up from his chair to swap his laundry over to the dryer, he hadn’t even heard the conversation the four older people where having because of his music playing through his headphones. Just another Tuesday in Down Town Sudds. As Wilsson unloaded the washer and tossed his clothes into the dryer he watched the four older people goofing off. Wilsson has only lived in the area for the last year and a half while going to school, but he has grown to know all the locals quite well.

For example, Mr. Doge despite the fact he worked as the local handyman and owned his company the Helping Hand. In his youth he was a champion chess player and even had a chance at the world championship, but he gave up playing professionally when his father got sick, so he took over the family business. Mr. King despite the fact he worked at the local library, he is locally famous for being the local high school and college boxing champion, but he never went professional do to a car accident that forced him to have back surgery when he was twenty-two years old. But he never looked back, if you asked him, he would just say. “It was all in God’s plan for me.”

Or if you ask Mr. Chang, it was because the old man was to lazy to try any harder. Witch Mr. King would just tell him to piss off and both old men would laugh. Wilsson in this year he had spent more time in this old run-down laundromat or in Mr. Chang’s shop around the corner. Mr. Chang’s shop was the neighborhood grocery store. His motto was always trash but he stuck by it. “If I can’t find it then oh well.” Wilsson often told Mr. Chang to change it but trying to tell and old Chinese man what to do was like talking to a brick wall. Mr. Chang was a performer back in China and often talked about his musical career he opened this shop when he and his wife moved to America back in the forties during the war. And he has run the shop for the last forty years at first with his wife before she passed and now his family. His two sons both helped around the shop and his oldest even went to School with Wilsson, and Mr. Chang’s daughter was currently the pride of his conversations with any one that came into the shop he would often tell them about how proud he was that she was accepted into the musical arts program, and he was often trying to get Wilsson to date her.

And of course, there was the owner of Down Town Sudds Ms. Mayweather, ever since she opened this laundromat in the middle of the block it has become the beating heart of the neighborhood, public events, senior bingo games, hell even Mr. Chang’s sixtieth birthday party was hosted on the sidewalk right outside just last month.