Date – 4.20.01
Title – He Works Silently
E-mail address –
Rating – PG (for now)
Category – Angsty, I suppose
Summary -- Michael and Liz work together (but not at the Crashdown, some other food place). They don't know each other and Liz is awfully interested…angsty good feelings ensue.
Author's notes— I was actually inspired to write this by my own experiences at work.
Prologue
He works silently. Every now and then he lifts his head up and looks at me. My back is turned, but I feel it. I'm trying to take someone's order. It's difficult now.
His arms are placed in front of him, resting on the counter. That's how they always are now, ready to lift off and go do more work. But this time, he doesn't. He just stares at me. Watches me flit from the kitchen to the back to the kitchen. Watches me take orders, smile politely. I watch him, too. I think he knows that. I watch him take back the dishes, talk with other employees, take people their food.
I walk to the back and put the silverware container on the counter. He is right next to me, staring at me, so I offer him a small smile. He blinks. I turn back around and just before I push the door open to go back to the kitchen, I turn around and see that he is staring at me, again. I push open the door.
He never talks to me. But it's so much easier that way. I talk to Brendon and Karen. Sometimes I'll even say 'hi' to Felipe. But I never talk to him. We like to avoid each other. I wonder what it is about him as I refill the ketchup bottles. Why I feel so intrigued by him. He slams the clean dishes down on the counter, startling me. I jump, but he doesn't even look up. He just puts the dishes where they belong and I continue on refilling the bottles.
When I catch him staring he doesn't look away.
It's awful.
It's wonderful.
It's only the first night.
I go to talk to Lindsay. Anything that gets me out of dealing with him is annoyingly wonderful. I wonder if he's as messed up about me as I am about him. Lindsay doesn't even notice my lack of attention. She's laughing about something now, and I'm smiling along with her. But then I see him, leaning against the counter top. He's watching the game on TV. I try to think 'typical,' but instead I am mesmerized.
Another customer walks in, so I go take their order. That means passing him by. I'm staring at him, cursing myself, telling myself to look away for the second we're in line. But I don't. And—he's not even looking at me. Damn. I knew it. The customer is dissatisfied now. Something about me needing to be 'a little more polite.' Um, yeah. I turn back around and he's looking at me. Is that a smirk? No. He doesn't even know what the lady said to me. But he's looking at me again. The lady is waiting for her change. My smile brightens; my eyes perk up. She's happy now; I'm polite again.
It's getting pretty late, now. Tomorrow I'll come back and—I don't even know if he's working tomorrow night. I don't even know his name, yet, so I can't check the schedule. He's watching me in the back room. I pull my hair loose, letting it fall back and forth. He licks his lips. I glance his way, but quickly avert my eyes elsewhere. I can't look at him anymore. He'll attack me.
I punch my card. Thirty-one hours in two weeks. My paycheck won't be quite so humiliating this time. I wonder how many hours he has on his card. He walks up to me, a smile on his face, one of the first, actually. I'm so used to seeing his smirk. He reaches over me, and although I'm losing it, I stay still. The machine makes the punching sound, but it's going in slow motion. I should just grab his arm and say something. He slides his card slowly back into the holder. I can't breathe.
Just hold on.
He squeezes past me, and lightly brushes against my arm. I fight the urge to turn around against him. Just one more minute. Why wouldn't I just move? I put my foot out, and suddenly walking is much easier.
Outside, the air is crisp. My car has been collecting dew, and is most likely freezing inside. I hear a noise and turn around to examine the area behind me. There he is, coming to his car. He doesn't notice me yet. I purposefully kick a rock on the way to my car and glance back again. He's looking up, that smirk still playing at his lips.
I have "trouble" getting the car door to open. I don't say anything to him, but he comes over to unlock it for me anyway. He does some magical trick with his hands, and the door flies open. I watch amazed, intrigued. Why won't he talk to me? He looks at his hands for an awkward moment. He finds my eyes eventually, and I offer the same smile from earlier. He shrugs. It's better than a blink I suppose.
He goes the long way around my car, careful not to come to close. His door opens easily, and he's gone. I realize I'm still standing in the cold, watching his break lights get smaller.
***