The dryers hummed steadily behind Iris as she folded towels at the long table near the front of Lavandería. Outside, the light had started to change the way it always did when winter finally loosened its grip. It was still cool out, but the air didn’t have the same bite. Someone had propped the door open a few inches and every now and then a soft breeze slipped inside. March. Spring was trying.
Iris smoothed a corner of a towel and stacked it neatly with the others, her mind drifting somewhere warmer. Hawaii felt far away now, but certain pieces of it kept returning to her without warning: the color of the water, the slow mornings, Jonah’s laugh when the dolphins appeared beside the breakfast table. She missed the air there. The way everything felt lush and alive. Even the quiet moments had felt full.
The bell above the door chimed.
Her father stepped in, already loosening the sleeves of his shirt as he crossed the room. Right on schedule for the evening shift. Her mother was already gathering her things behind the counter, purse on her shoulder. Like ships passing in the night.
They met in the middle of the laundromat for barely a moment before it started. “You didn’t run the café delivery?” her father asked, his voice edged with irritation.
“I said I’d do it tomorrow,” her mother replied, tired and short.
“The towels are piling up again.”
“I’ve been here since six this morning.”
Iris stepped forward instinctively, already apologizing before anyone had asked her to. “I’ll take care of it,” she said quickly. “I can finish the towels and run the delivery before I go.”
Her father shook his head immediately, waving a hand. “No. It’s not you.” His voice hardened as he glanced at her mother. “It’s her.” The look he gave carried years of resentment in it. Iris felt her chest tighten.
The argument kept going in low, sharp voices full of small complaints that had been waiting all day to come out. A missed pickup. A machine that hadn’t been cleaned. A bill that was still unpaid. The same tired rhythm she had grown up listening to.
For a moment she wanted to shout at them. Just end it! Just divorce already. Stop dragging this miserable thing through another year! But she didn’t. She finished folding the last towel, stacked it quietly, and slipped her coat on without saying much more.
Outside, the air felt lighter than the laundromat had.
She walked the few blocks to the subway slowly, hands tucked into her sleeves, feeling that familiar hollow space settle in her chest. Like something inside her had deflated.
When she reached the brownstone steps, she almost didn’t notice him at first. Jonah was sitting there, elbows resting on his knees, a loose bouquet of wildflowers in his hands. The moment he saw her, he stood up, his whole face brightening.
“Hey, pretty girl.”
His smile was immediate, easy, like seeing her was the best part of his day. Her chest, tight from her parent’s fight, loosened. She crossed the distance quickly and wrapped her arms around him before she could even think about it. He hugged her back without hesitation, warm and steady, the flowers brushing lightly against her coat.
For a moment she just stayed there. Standing in his arms, Iris felt something inside her, something that had been fractured, begin to heal and shift quietly into place.
"Not thinking of hopping in there, are you?" Livvy asked as she approached Iris, sitting on the rocks by the pond, smile on her face as she dropped down to sit next to her. "Give it a few more months, I have a feeling the whole group of us would, but... still a little too chilly. Although, I did see some people unloading coolers full of booze when they got off the bus."
