Thanks for the reviews. Here's another "episode" for you. ^^

Comfort Food

"Mom," Richie called, "we're home."

Fonzie followed Richie into the dining area as if he were being led on a museum tour—like he was someone brought to marvel over something that had once been considered very ordinary.

"Good," Marion's voice answered from the kitchen. "I've made some of those cute little potatoes that your father likes, but I know some of you prefer them mashed, so I've got a separate dish here... You like them mashed, don't you, Arthur?"

Fonzie found his voice. "Heeey, Mrs. C, don't go to any extra trouble on my account."

"Oh, don't be silly. It isn't any trouble. Richie, call your father and Joanie for dinner."

As Richie headed for the stairs, Fonzie stepped into the kitchen. "Anything I can do to help?" he asked the busy but capable redheaded woman working at the counter.

"That's very sweet of you, dear, but you don't have to do anything."

"Have to? Have to?" Fonzie repeated in an astounded tone. "Mrs. C, anything I do for you in this kitchen, I don't have to do. I get to."

Marion gave a happy sigh. "Sometimes I wish Richie were more like you. Tell you what: you can work the butter into the mashed potatoes. Potato-mashing is really a man's job anyway."

Fonzie flexed his right arm. "These muscles were made to mash."

In a short time, Fonzie was helping Marion put the food on the table, complete with baby carrots. Howard said a blessing and the family began passing the dishes around.

Although he was sure the Cunninghams were sorry for him, Fonzie thought to himself that their lives were basically unchanged from the time before Pinkie came to town. They would go on in their nice, middle-class way, the same as ever. He looked down at his mashed potatoes and gravy. He felt hungry, but suddenly eating seemed like a bad idea. He put his hands in his lap.

"Mom," said Joanie, "when Richie goes to college, can I have his room?"

"Will ya lay off my room?" said Richie.

"Richie may not be going far away when he goes to college," Howard pointed out. "He might still live here instead of the dorm."

"Aw, man," Joanie pouted, putting her chin in her hands.

"Elbows off the table, dear," Marion scolded. Then she said, "Arthur, you're not eating."

Fonzie looked up to find everyone staring at him: Marion with pity, Howard with apprehension, Richie with apology and Joanie with fascination. "Oh, well, uh... I'm just waiting for the stimulating conversation to get my appetite back, you know? I had kind of a late lunch, and um..."

"Yeah, a late lunch," Richie chimed in, trying to help.

Fonzie shot him a glare that said, "Stay out of it."

"It's all right, dear. We understand," Marion said in a knowing tone. "But you really should try to eat."

"I'm fine," he answered, picking up his fork and scooping up some potato as proof. He shoveled it into his mouth, chewed mechanically and swallowed. He gave a thumbs-up to the waiting housewife.

"There, that's the spirit. You'll be over her in no time."

"Marion!" Howard exclaimed.

"Well, I'm only trying to help."

Marion looked away and changed the subject, but Fonzie knew she kept watching him throughout the meal, so he did his best to eat a little of everything. Finally, he sat back. "Well, it was very, very good, but I could not eat another bite."

"But you haven't cleaned your plate, and there's dessert," Marion protested.

"Hey, I ate my veggies. Wrap up a little dessert and I'll take it up to my apartment for later. How's that grab you?"

"Of course, that'll be fine." Marion hopped up from the table.

Fonzie got up too, until Marion was through the kitchen door. Then he sat down again until she returned. He heard a small, exasperated sound from Howard, but he pretended not to. He knew it annoyed Howard that someone was more polite to his wife than he was on a regular basis. The annoyance was not with Fonzie, but with himself for letting his chivalry slack off.

"Here you are," Marion said, handing Fonzie a plate covered with foil. "It's a slice of peach cobbler."

"Thanks, Mrs. C. You are the best." He kissed her forehead. "I'll be going now... night, Mr. C. Richie. Shortcake."

The others said good night in return and Fonzie let himself out. He went up to his apartment and put the plate in his icebox.

He was about to iron his tee shirt for the next day when someone knocked on his door. He ignored it. A moment later, the knock came again, accompanied by a female voice.

"Fonzie, are you in there? It's me, Eileen."

Fonzie draped his shirt over the ironing board and hesitated. Let her in, or not? No doubt she wanted to comfort him and make her bid to be his next steady. Comfort was nice. But Fonzie didn't want another steady—not now, anyway—and he didn't feel like taking advantage of her. Not now, anyway. He smiled to himself a little.

With a sigh, he went to the door and opened it just wide enough to talk comfortably. "Hey, Eileen. It's nice of you to come, but listen. The Fonz needs a little time to just breathe, you know? Kinda cleanse the pallet."

"Okay, Fonzie," Eileen said, covering her disappointment well. "When you're ready, just say when."

"You got it."

Eileen turned to go back down the stairs.

"Just a second." Fonzie took her by the shoulders and gave her a forceful kiss that melted away into sweetness. "There. Later."

Eileen floated down the steps to her car.

He took a deep breath of the evening air and slipped back inside. Eileen hadn't made the pain leave, but she kind of cushioned it a little.

Richie kept an eye on Fonzie over the next several days. At first, things seemed to get better. Fonzie started dating again, he dug into his work at the garage, and things seemed close to normal. But gradually, Richie realized that Fonzie was just going through the motions. He never dated the same girl twice in a row, and he worked more than was probably good for him. He had so little free time that he put up a waiting list outside the men's room at Arnold's so "non-chicks" could make appointments with him. The list was getting long.

One day, Richie decided to count the names on the list. Only two had been crossed off at the top; after that, twenty-eight names stood resolutely on the list, headed by his own. A few of them were repeats from over-anxious guys—a customer who wanted his car done quick, and Potsie Webber, who was desperate for advice about girls. Richie had been at the top of the list for three days now. He scowled at it.

"I've had it," he declared, stepping toward the door.

"Hey, Rich, don't go in there," Ralph Malph called.

"Yeah," Potsie agreed. "It's the first time the Fonz has been in there more than two minutes in a few days, and we don't want anyone disturbing him."

"Oh, you don't, huh?" said Richie condescendingly. "Have you looked at that list?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, I've been at the top for three days, and more names keep getting added. I'm not sitting around for an appointment—I'm going in!"

As he pushed his way into the men's room, Richie heard Ralph telling Potsie, "There goes either the bravest or most foolish man I know..."

"Fonzie," Richie said when he saw his friend, "I want to talk to you."

"Make an appointment," Fonzie said dryly, turning his head to examine his perfect hair in the mirror.

"I DID!" Richie shouted.

Fonzie's eyes flashed. "Whoa."

"I—I mean, I did," Richie said, much more quietly.

"So, wait your turn like all the other kids."

"It is my turn. I've been at the top of the list for three days. We're friends, Fonz. I shouldn't have to make an appointment with you."

"You want special treatment, huh? I tell you, Cunningham, you are acting really selfish all of a sudden."

"I don't think so. You know what I think?" Richie gathered his courage. "I think you're the selfish one."

Fonzie tore his eyes away from the mirror. "What?"

"You heard me. You've been acting weird since Pinkie left."

"Weird?"

"Yeah. All these one-time dates and one-night stands and up to your elbows in grease the rest of the time, and no time for your old friends—you need to snap out of it!"

"Hey. The Fonz does not need to 'snap out of it.' The Fonz snaps other people out of it."

"Sure, that's why this is all wrong. I know you're still upset about her leaving, and you won't admit it."

"I don't have to admit anything to anybody," Fonzie snapped. "It's none of your business or anybody else's. You call yourself my friend? Leave me alone."

Richie was slightly taken aback, but he recovered quickly with his superior chuckle. "Ho ho ho. Leave you alone? Is that really what you want?"

Fonzie made a broad gesture with his hands, as if giving Richie permission to do his worst.

"Okay, fine. That's exactly what I'll do. From now on, that's what you'll be—alone." Richie paced slowly toward the door, hoping Fonzie would stop him. When he got outside, he resignedly scratched his name off the waiting list.

Ralph and Potsie hurried up to stare at the list.

"All right," Potsie said enthusiastically, "he saw Richie. One name closer to my appointment."

"Wake up, Potsie, there are still eight names ahead of you," Ralph pointed out. "At this rate, it'll be weeks before your turn comes. Maybe months."

"Forget it, guys," Richie told them. "Fonzie's too good for his old friends now. Too busy, and too superior. He doesn't want me around anymore, and if you want to save yourselves some trouble, you'll keep out of his way, too."

"Aw, what'll we do without the Fonz?" Ralph whined.

"Yeah," Potsie chimed in. "I'm scared enough to go home alone when Fonzie likes us. When he doesn't..." He shuddered.

"Buck up. Your neighborhood isn't so bad," said Richie.

"Who said anything about the neighborhood? It's my dad I'm scared of."

To be continued... Thanks for reading. ^^