More Than Words-Chapter 36

Gwen was a little late to work. She braced herself for what she was certain would be the tongue-lashing of the decade from Mr. Ed; he did run a tight kitchen and expected nothing less than perfection, and showing up late was not acceptable. But Richard took the blame for her tardiness, explaining about the accident earlier in the day and saying that he hadn't allotted enough time for the subway. Gwen protested, it was entirely her fault because she didn't have the sense to keep her mouth shut. Richard said no, it was his fault for poor time management. Ed finally put an end to the argument by yelling "I don't care who's fucking fault it is! Mouse, get your ass to the sink and start washing those dishes. Richie, you get your ass out of my kitchen until you come to retrieve her."

Gwen had hurried away as soon as Ed said 'Mouse', so she didn't here Richard say to Ed "Her name is... Gwen, not. Mm, 'Mouse'."

"Yeah, and yours is Richard. Don't see too many people around here calling you that, " Ed replied, totally unphased by the younger man's tone or expression.

"That's different."

"Not really. You're no Richie, probably never were, even when you was a kid." He sized Richard up, his sharp eyes assessing the veteran carefully. "I'd say the cutest your parents ever got with your name was Rich. You're too damned serious for anything else. Her, on the other hand?" Ed said with a nod towards Gwen, who was elbow deep in suds. "That girl has never been anything but a Mouse. She's small, plain, and...well, look at her. She looks like a mouse out in the middle of a room, well aware there's a cat creeping up behind her, but bound and determined to get as much cheese in her before she runs to her hidey-hole."

"She's...shy," Richard replied, watching Gwen. If he hadn't been as observant as he was, if he hadn't been trained to noticed the tiniest of details, he wouldn't have seen anything out of the ordinary. But he did see the subtle signs: the way her head was cocked just slightly, the way her cheeks flushed...most people would have chalked that up to the heat of the kitchen and the steaming hot water. But Richard wasn't most people; he saw the way her jaw was clenched and the tightness around her eyes.

"See those three at the prep table behind her?" Ed asked. Richard nodded, turning his attention to the two men and the young woman Ed was talking about. "Those three, and believe you me, if I had a choice they wouldn't be in my kitchen, but I don't so there they are. But those three spent the entire time she was here last night trying to get some rise out of her, saying some of the most vile things... I'm no saint but even I blushed at some of the things they said! Most people, woman or no, would've at least said something, if not turned around and brained 'em with a pan. But your little Mouse just tucked her head down and worked harder. I'm not complaining about that, mind you. Hell, I wish the others here would do the same, it'd make things easier round here. But she's a mouse, and you dropped her in to a room full of cats."

Richard watched Gwen as she scrubbed furiously at a fry pan. He did not understand her, and after the way she assumed he would negatively influence her son, he wasn't entirely sure he liked her. But he admired her, admired her determination and her stubborn, foolish insistence to make things right. He admired the quiet strength that kept her going, and her fierce protection of her son (even in those moments where it wasn't needed). He admired her for the courage it took to, not only offer to pay Taylor's debt, but to see it through. He admired her even more for it now that he knew how miserable it must be for her; bad enough to be stuck in the midst of strangers, worse if some of them were viciously talking about her.

"Don't, mm. Underestimate her, " Richard told Ed. " Even a... Mouse can roar. "

Gwen threw herself at the dishes, wishing the water was a little louder so it would drown out the cruel trio behind her, wishing it would drown out her own thoughts. It did neither, but she thought of the scalding sting on her hands as deserved, if insufficient, punishment, for the way she spoke to Richard earlier.

She didn't actually think he would tell Chris to steal a car; that had been a stupid thought that popped in to her head and out of her mouth at a very bad moment. It didn't take her much thinking time to realize that she was jealous of the fact that Chris was speaking to Richard, and not her. Of course she understood why he wasn't talking to her, and she knew she had no right to be jealous of Richard in this matter. But she couldn't help herself. It was like when she found Richard asleep in Chris' room with Chris curled up in his arms, a pang at knowing she was not the only person in the world who could solve her son's problems, irrational and pretty, but there none-the-less.

She was an idiot, she knew that, but she didn't really think that was a valid excuse for her actions. She had proven herself a liar: she told Richard she was trying to think better of him, but then she went and accused him of encouraging her son towards thievery . Which was ridiculous, because she had a feeling he was an honest man, even if he was a murderer. Could someone be an honest murderer? She wasn't sure, because she didn't have a lot of experience with murderers. She had enough experience with liars, though, and she didn't necessarily get the feeling from Richard that she got with, say... Jeff. Not that she knew Richard that well. For all she knew, every word he had spoken to her was a lie. But deep down, she didn't think that was the case. She knew she had to trust him, for Chris' sake at least; and she wanted to trust him, not just for Chris' sake but hers as well.

*I like him... I think. I don't dislike him, that much I do know. I just need to stop relating him to Jeff, or Matthew, or Dad. Certainly not Dad! He never once apologized for anything he did or said to me, even when it wasn't my fault he was angry. But Richard backed off and apologized as soon as he saw my fright. Goodness, I can't remember the last time someone apologized to me and actually meant it. Richard looked appalled at what he did, and said that just because I made him mad didn't mean he could act on it. I would have loved, just once! to hear Dad say that.*

*He really isn't like anyone I've ever known. I have to remember that. Of course, after my display of idiocy, I would not be surprised if he washes his hands of us and let's us fend for ourselves. That's what any intelligent person would do, and I'm pretty sure he's intelligent. But... I don't think he'd do that to Chris. I honestly don't. Me? Maybe. I can live with that. If he's still willing to help Chris... that's all that matters. That's all I ever wanted from Jeff, some support although a stable father figure would have been nice. Someone who could teach Chris how to grow up to be a decent man. Not that Jeff is 'decent'. Maybe it's a good thing he never spent too much time with Chris; no telling what he'd learn from his father! Lying, gambling, shirking responsibility, cheating, scamming, running around at all hours... If I'm lucky, I've taught Chris some responsibility and decency. But he really needs a man in his life; someone who can teach him to shave and have 'the talk' with, someone who...who does a gentlemanly thing like walk a girl home, and carry the heavy child upstairs...Am I thinking... No, that's just silly. Just because Richard is being nice, and very helpful, doesn't mean he's applying for a position as a father. Unless... What if I'm right? That he did have a child but something happened. Replacement family: just add food! I don't know how I feel about that. And I don't even know why I'm even worrying about this right now. He might not want anything to do with us. Great! Something else I've ruined for Chris. I made him be deaf, I am an utter failure as a mother, and I have probably driven off someone he is very fond of.*

As confusing and bitter as her thoughts were, they at least kept her mind occupied enough that she was able to, not exactly ignore the trio behind her, but block out enough of what they were saying that she didn't fret over their words while she worked. The young woman had one of those shrill, whiney voices that could pierce steel, and the one young man would let his course, braying laugh loose whenever the young woman said anything, so Gwen could not ignore them completely. When her mind exhausted itself worrying over the confusion of Richard, she was unable to ignore them at all. Many of their remarks were aimed at her appearance. Those were painful, because Gwen knew she was a fright with her sharp cheeks and sunken eyes, arms so thin they looked ready to snap under strain, and really, who wouldn't be hurt by being called 'a walking skeleton' and 'a freak show escapee'? But unkind words were nothing new to her, and she did not let on that their words bothered her.

Strangely, it was when they started bad-mouthing Richard that Gwen felt the urge to say something, even though she wouldn't do such a thing. She couldn't help but think it was wrong to so callously make fun of someone who had been injured in war. It might have been a little hypocritical of her, she *had* let his appearance feed her fear of him at first; but she had never called him 'tin man', 'pie plate', or 'half-face'. And those were the kinder insults she heard!

The three of them tried to top each other with what they said, and Gwen was appalled as a somewhat decent human by what was insinuated.

*"Whaddaya think her bones sound like bumpin' against his face?"*

*"Think he gets a stiffy whoever she pulls out a can opener? That's gotta be foreplay!"*

*"Wonder if his dick's half tin, too... "*

*" Hahaha... Tin Dick!"*

*" Think she squeaks when he's plowin' her?"*

And so on. Gwen felt her stomach twist, and once again she had to force herself to not throw up in the sink. It would give them satisfaction if she did, knowing their words had gotten to her so.

She kept her head low, eyes focused on her job. When Ed hollered for a pan or utensil, she quickly took it to him, eyes raised only enough to make sure she wouldn't trip or run in to anyone. She thought, once or twice when some extremely nasty comments were made, about asking Mr. Lansky to find her another job. But she couldn't do that. He had so much trouble finding something for her to do to begin with, and she didn't feel she really had any right to complain. She had gotten herself into this, and her only option was to make the best of it.