Handle With Care

Four

Simon tied the navy blue apron around his waist as he prepared himself for the long workday ahead. It would be another five dull hours of serving ungrateful people their food. He would much rather sit with his vegetable-like mother for the rest of his pathetic life than be here. If he didn't need the money, he would quit and never return, even if he was the costumer and not the waiter. His father's life insurance check alone was not enough to cover all the bills. This job was as important as oxygen. Without it, he and his remaining family members that weren't old enough to leave would die.

The seventeen-year-old boy stepped up to the wooden podium near the front entrance and waited, already wishing the usual breakfast rush hour were over even before it had began. As he stood hunched over the small table, he tapped his thumbs, subconsciously entertaining himself, when he spotted her. She came in every day for a cup of coffee before work. He had had the privilege of seating her a few times and each time was a wonderful experience. Her eyes were such a rare and gorgeous shade of green it almost felt like you had to have special permission just to look into them.

She gave him a sweet smile as he straightened, reaching his full height. Simon could feel his heart pounding in his chest while he ran through the usual greeting all IHOP waiters were ordered to give. He could vaguely smell her perfume – the one she always wore – a light lavender fragrance with a hint of something else floral.

Politely, she expressed that wouldn't need a menu, just a cup of hot coffee. He nodded, and, feeling his spirits perk only slightly, took her to her seat. As long as she was in his sight, he felt he could handle the day.

Doctor Hank Hastings walked into the master bedroom of his home and stopped dead in his tracks, catching sight of his wife clad in all black.

"What are you doing, getting ready to rob a bank?" he joked, taking a sip of coffee from his yellow mug.

Julie rolled up her sleeves, feeling a bit overheated. She sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. "That was Mary who called earlier," she explained. "She wants me to check on Annie and the kids."

Hank looked as confused as he felt. "Why can't you – or she – just call them instead of sneaking around their apartment?"

"Believe me, if I could I would. I'm supposed to just 'drop in'. I'm not even sure what reason I'm going to give them. Eh, I'll talk to you when I get back. It's complicated."

Hank nodded, though he was still lost. Figuring this was just one thing that he was not meant to understand, he went back to Julie's outfit.

"You do know that it's almost ninety-five degrees outside…and that it's broad daylight?" he teased, leaning against the doorframe.

His wife shrugged, looking down at what she was wearing. "It's what they do in the movies."

"Yes, but in the movies, they have the cover of darkness and actually know what they are looking for. Seeing that you have neither, you're going to stand out like a sore thumb in that getup - a very sweaty sore thumb."

Where did she know him from? Lucy wondered as she stood near the local shopping center and stared at a blonde teenage boy who was only a few feet away. It looked as if he had just come out of the movie theater with a group of friends. He gave off such a sense of familiarity, she couldn't just turn and walk away, which was exactly what she should have done.

Lucy blinked, suddenly realizing who he was as his gaze slid over to her. He stopped laughing, and Lucy felt her breath catch. For a moment, they both stared, not really believe that the other was there. She turned around slowly, preparing to walk away, but he stopped her before she could take a step.

"Lucy!"

She closed her eyes, cursing at herself silently. Once again, she faced his direction and was not surprised to see him running towards her. It was like a scene right out of a sappy love story, where two lovers were reunited, running towards each other with there arms wide open, in a field full of daisies and whatnot that seemed to suddenly appear.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, grinning like a mad man.

Lucy looked down into Peter's expectant face. "I live here." She could see in his eyes that he was hoping to hear that Ruthie lived here as well. "Only me," she added, almost wanting to dash his spirits.

He looked slightly disappointed and for a second, Lucy felt bad.

"I'm really sorry about your father. I tried to come to his funeral but-"

"It's fine," she snapped.

Peter brushed off the tone in Lucy's voice. "I didn't think it was really you. I mean, last time I saw you, you still lived in California."

"Yeah, well, I don't look like I used to either." She crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly aware of her half-buttoned top.

"No, actually," he said thoughtfully. "You do."

"Excuse me?" She asked wondering if she had just been insulted by a thirteen-year-old boy.

"I mean, yeah, you're clothes have changed a little…" he said, scanning her from head to toe. As he reached her Mary-Jane shoes, he came to a wild conclusion. "Oh," he gasped, looking somewhat disgusted.

Lucy rolled her eyes, embarrassed. "I have to go." Even as she walked away, she could feel Peter watching her, could still see his horrified expression. As discomfited as she was, she would later look back on this experience and laugh, for she didn't think the boy had ever seen a hooker before.

Julie Hastings was getting angry. For the past fifteen minutes, she had been arguing her case to the manager in the apartment office. All she wanted was an extra key to her sister-in-law's residence and he would not give it to her.

"I can't give you an extra key, lady. You have no permission to receive it," he replied firmly. Apparently he was irked also. He was a burly man with impeccable English and grammar skills.

Julie huffed. "It's important," she said, and considered getting down on her knees to grovel at his very large feet.

The man leaned forward, inches away from her face, and whispered, "You are not getting an extra key." He pulled away, examining her outfit. "Besides, you look like you just stepped out of a James Bond movie."

She glanced sheepishly down at her choice of clothing and frowned. Shooting a hateful glare to the gentleman, she left in a huff, shrieking over her shoulder as she went, "You haven't seen the last of me!"

He shook his head, and laughed. "No, I'm sure I haven't."