Anna is redeemed.

Definitely a liar and potentially a criminal but at least, for now, redeemed.

I go in Friday morning to drop off a load of legitimately dirty clothes. It’s around 8:38…8:40 – I can’t be sure.

My plan is to say nothing. It’s been over two weeks since Anna’s even mentioned Matt so I’ve decided the drop-it-and-regroup plan is my best move. I walk in and she jumps out of her ironing seat.

“Jessica! Hi!” she says, walking quickly toward me. She proceeds to give me the kind of hug a person you don’t really know well accidentally gives you because they think they do know you really well but realize they don’t mid hug. This affection is unprecedented. I’m thrown for a complete loop. I immediately consider aborting the no-mission mission and launching straight into the cry-my-eyes-out strategy. Thankfully she speaks before I lose my shit.

“You JUST miss Matt Jessica!” (not this old routine…) “Look! There his shirts! Right there! On floor!”

Indeed right there on the floor were a stack of to-be-laundered button downs: a pale blue, a white with fine maroon stripes, a very nice taupe and blue check. They were the kind of shirts I’d like to be dating.

She’d pushed me over the edge.

“Anna. This is ridiculous. Why did you even tell me about Matt if you didn’t want me to meet him! You need to make this happen Anna. I mean, do you even tell him about me? Does he know about me at all?!”

(To help your mental picture of how ridiculous this is – I’ve launched into this Oscar-worthy performance while wearing my brand new felt cloche hat – the very type hat that Angelina Jolie is featured wearing in trailers for her most recent film The Changeling. Had I been yelling “I want my son!!” the moment would be identical.)

She balks at my boldness – balks and then cowers.

“No Jessica.” (her head hangs low) “I no really talk to Matt much. I very shy to Matt.”

Then she takes my dirty laundry out of my hand and starts sorting it on the counter as if to say – yes, yes you’re right – I am but a simple laundress, not the brilliant matchmaker I aspire to be; I’ve failed us both.

Just as I suspected. I go in for the kill.

“Well Anna – I’m really disappointed. Disappointed and upset and confused and sad.” (Whatever, she deserves it. She lied to me.)

Anna turns and walks away from me. Shit, I think, too far. Back peddle, back peddle…

“Oh, Anna – I’m sorry – I didn’t mean…”

But then I notice that she’s gone behind her counter and into the box where she keeps all the shit people leave in their pockets – spare change, dirty chapsticks, old condoms – and I see that among the bin of crap is a small stack of blue cards. Anna reaches for the cards, picks one up,walks slowly back and hands it to me.

“Look,” she offers, “I have this?”

Then into my leather-gloved hand Anna places a business card – Matt’s business card.

I am holding Matt’s. Business. Card.

He, by chance, left a small stack of business cards in the front pocket of a suit he just dropped off. She, by chance, found that stack of business cards immediately prior to my arrival. And then she (and here’s the maybe criminal part) decided to give me one of those business cards on account of my hysterics (slash fate).

And so I now have, in my possession, Matt’s full name, office and cell number, work email address, and place of business.

And with that, things just got a whole lot more interesting…