I walk back upstairs and dart into my room to change my clothes. I’m in pajamas, and despite the fact that we spent an entire night together, I feel self-conscious. I parse through the scant options for clean clothes and pull out a sweatshirt that saysHollywoodacross the chest. It’s one of those kitschy drugstore souvenirs that my dad bought me as a joke when I left for DC but it’s surprisingly comfortable and covers the fact that all my bras are currently inside the washer.
I knock on his bedroom door. There’s no sound of movement inside. Maybe he’s out. He said he broke up with Sutton, but he could have a new lover that’s more geographically convenient. I knock again and after a few moments, the door swings open.
“Izzy? Are you alright?” Benito is bleary-eyed. He’s wearing that old Cambridge shirt again and a pair of blue checkered pajama pants. Was he asleep?
“Yeah.” I look at the time; it sounds like I’ve woken him up but it’s only 9:30. “Sorry. Um, it’s not an emergency, but the washing machine shocked me, and I guess I got a little spooked and wanted to see if you could come fix it, which I realize is ridiculous because you’re not a mechanic—”
“I can help you.”
“It’s ok, I think I overreacted.”
“You were shocked?” he asks.
“Yeah. Twice.”
Benito walks out of his room and down the stairs. I follow him as he pulls a red toolbox out of a hall closet and six different Damsel in Distress fantasies flash through my head like an R-rated View-Master.
We make it back to the laundry room and he examines the dials. “So, what happened exactly?”
“I reached inside to pull out my clothes and it shocked me. Twice.”
Benito finicks with the dials for less than a minute. “It wasn’t all the way off.”
“What?”
He turns both dials all the way to the left. The machine whirs off and the lights on the top of it go dark. “It’s an old machine, and it’s finicky. It has to turn all the way off before you retrieve your laundry.” He reaches into the open door of the washer and pulls out my yellow sundress. He reaches in again but thinks better of it. “I’ll let you do the rest.”
“Thanks. Wouldn’t want you to come face-to-face with my unmentionables.” I think I see him blush a little and I cringe at myself. I reach into the washer but hesitate, my body still traumatized from the earlier shocks.
Benito watches me as I try and fail again. “It really got you, huh?”
“Not too bad, but I had a vision of me going all Ben Franklin’s kite with the key, so I’m a little hesitant.”
“Ben Franklin’s kite?” Benito asks.
“You know. . . when he discovered electricity.”
He sighs. “Did he really? Or is that another myth of American exceptionalism that you were told as a kid?”
“Oh shit, is it?”
Benito takes his hand and waves it in and out of the front of the washer. “You’ll be fine, I promise.”
I finally muster up the courage and pull out a pair of jeans at the top of the pile. I do a little curtsey after I escape shock free. “Success.”
“You did it.” Benito walks over to his unused toolbox and picks it up. “Happy to be of service.”
Panic rips through me as he starts heading to the door. I need to act on the horniness now if I’m ever going to. “Leaving so soon?” I blurt out. Benito turns back to me, his expression twisted into a question mark. I quickly think up an excuse. “It’s just. . . I feel bad, I woke you up for nothing.”
“Sunday lunches are exhausting, and I tend to nod off early. It’s ok.”
“Do you want a glass of wine or something?” I ask. Benito studies me as if he’s waiting for me to rescind the offer any second. “I know it’s late, but. . .”
Benito nods. “I suppose one glass couldn’t hurt.”
He awkwardly stands in the middle of the kitchen while I struggle to open a bottle I was chilling in the fridge from Valeria’s wine shop, my hands shaky from the nerves. “Sorry again for waking you up for nothing,” I say, handing him a glass. I take a sip of the glass I poured for myself before gesturing for us both to sit at the kitchen table.
Benito sits in the chair next to me. “It’s ok. I’ve been learning light maintenance for my tenants, so it’s good practice.”
