Lunch Meetings
Joan's Assignment: Take that homeless man out to lunch, at the vegetarian restaurant. He had lost his best friend, Nick, and everyone else he held dear in one act of violence. Listen to him.
*joa*grimm*
"Whadda ya want?" the drunk snarled when she finally had his attention. He had an impressive snarl.
Joan Girardi had dealt with numerous broken souls before him and stood firm in the apparent anger. "There's a good vegetarian place around the corner, or so I hear."
The bearded man squinted at Joan and then shook his head in a vain attempt to clear it. "Why?"
Joan shrugged. "No good reason in your mind. Come, let me treat you."
The homeless man staggered to his feet and, wow!, was he taller than Joan. "Fine." He mumbled something that Joan could identify as German. He used the brick wall of the alley to brace against and then stumbled toward the exit, leaving the bottle behind. Joan hurried to keep up. The man knew where he was going and seemed to sober up with every step. He didn't need a wall to keep vertical by the end of the alley and wasn't shuffling too much by the time he reached the restaurant. He did wait for her at an outdoor table and pulled out a chair for her like a gentleman from her grandmother's era. "What took you so long," he complained. "I don't want to be completely sober by the end of the meal."
"Surprise," she told him honestly. "I normally have to work harder to persuade my impromptu lunch partner."
The homeless man scooted her up to the table and sat across from her. "I knew someone like you once. He took homeless out to dinner too. He was insistently kind and I learned to just give in early. It'd save me my dignity. Dignity is pretty much the only thing I have left."
Joan nodded in understanding. The server arrived and only barely wrinkled his nose at the drunk's smell. They ordered and the server scurried away. "Tell me about your friend," she prompted.
"He was a cop so at least he was armed when he did stupid things like invite drunks to lunch."
Joan couldn't pretend to be repentant. She wasn't. "What else?"
"The gun didn't help him any when he tried to save my girlfriend and a bomb got them both."
Joan winced. She hadn't expected that. "Tell me more about Nick."
"He was so happy with his fiancée. They were happy together. He was a good man and a better cop."
"What happened to her?"
"She vanished. I think she might have been kidnapped but I couldn't find a trace of her… or the baby she was carrying. Nick would have been a great dad and Juliette needed him." The man growled and it sounded feral and animal-like. "He shouldn't have died."
Joan knew better than to argue should-a's and what-if's. "What's your favorite memory?"
The man grinned. "He shared his family history with me. All these books that never should have been seen by an outsider and he just… offered them to me. The history, the smell, the secrets. When he died, I hid them the best I could." His face was calm in remembrance. He took a deep breath, to settle himself in the present and promptly lost all color. He twisted around to start at the young man seated at the table behind them. "Nick? No, no, no, you're Nick's son. Juliette's son."
The young man was just as ashen as Joan's lunch partner. He closed his sketch pad shakily, but answered truthfully. "Jayson Silverton, but I go by JES."
"I'm Monroe, Eddie Monroe. I was a friend of your father's."
Joan was amused that now she was learning the name of her lunch partner. She dug cash out of her pocketbook and left it on the table to cover the meals. Eddie could eat her portion as well. She had done her Job and it was time to move on. She tried not to eavesdrop too much as she slipped away, but it was impossible to miss the conversation.
The young man looked at him with wide eyes. "My middle name is Edward and Mom said that it was after my father's best friend. She talked about you and my father a lot."
Eddie actually blushed and changed the subject in a way that Joan couldn't follow. "You can see me. Did you mom tell you about us?"
JES nodded. "As much as she could, but I have holes in my education."
"I'll teach you everything," Monroe promised. "I have the books."
Yes, Joan had accomplished her goal. She smiled as she walked away. It was time to work on the next one.
*joa*grimm*
Joan turned around in her little apartment and released a squeak of dismay at the strange man sitting at her breakfast bar. She knew that she wasn't quite awake, sipping on her first cup of coffee, but how had she not heard him enter?
"I've heard about your kind," he said and Joan recognized the voice as being the same as the homeless man's. From his clothes, freshly shaven face and his cleanliness (and the much improved smell) Joan guessed that he was no longer homeless.
He seemed to be expecting some kind of response so she offered, "Coffee? Since you're here."
He huffed a laugh. "I've heard that if your kind is obedient, happy coincidences happen. I thought that it was a fairy tale; how could someone not resent that having the freedom to disobey would wreck a life. Yes, no man is an island and our actions all affect each other, but your life is well above and beyond that."
Joan drank her coffee and waited. He being here explained why God had given her so many extra clues for a simple lunch. She hadn't finished the Job.
"You obey and you don't get anything out of it, so I just want to say thanks. I don't have anything more to give you."
Joan put down her mug. She reached out and covered his trembling hands. He was probably still detoxing from life on the streets. "You are very welcome. Just do the best you can and that's what I'm doing."
"Nick started to change the world and JES –he's going to finish the job."
"He can't do it without you." No one can go it alone.
No man is an island.
He nodded. "I know. I won't check out this time."
"There will be consequences from you…"
"Falling off the wagon in a big way. Yeah. I know. There always is, but I won't let it affect JES." He grinned at Joan and had to share. "He was named after me. Nick had wanted it that way."
*joa*grimm*