Bolt knocked lightly on the office door, half of him hoping Mr. Morrison wouldn't be in yet.
"Come in," came the call from the other side. No such luck. "Ah, Mr. Henderson, just the man- what in heaven's name happened to your face?!"
"Uh, that's what I wanted to talk to you about, sir. I had an unfortunate accident, involving a night table. Sir, I hope you don't think this will affect my work, or upset the customers, I-"
"Of course I think it will upset the customers! They don't want to be shopping in fear, amoung street rats, and hooligans!" Mr. Morrison cut him off, his face red in anger.
"Yes sir. Of course not. Perhaps I could just keep my work limited to the back room, where they won't see me, sir."
"Absolutely not! You won't be working at all until that thing heals! And don't expect pay, either! Not a dime, until you get back here and work!" Mr. Morrison was livid, and even the top of his bald head began turning red.
Anger at the injustice coursed through Bolt's veins, but he bit down on his tongue. As much as he hated the work, and as much as he hated his boss, to shoot off at the mouth and lose his job was stupid. Especially in this city where jobs were so hard to come by. Bolt nodded stiffly, and turned to leave, when Mr. Morrison spoke again.
"I don't even want to see your face within a block of this place! And for God's sake, leave by the side door!"
Bolt gritted his teeth, pulling the door closed behind him, not trusting himself with a civil response.
He walked out the alley exit, pausing as the door swung shut, and wondering what he was going to do for money until his bruise healed. And then he remembered Hannah. He was supposed to meet her for lunch. "Great," He muttered to himself, "just great."
He moved out of the alley, and back onto the main street, scanning the crowds, as if someone in them would be able to help with his newest set of problems. He caught sight of Becky Anderson, a scarf tied around her head, and her hands burrowed into a cheap muffler. "Becky! Hey, Becky, wait a minute!" He called, jogging over to her.
"Bolt! What are you doing out here, aren't you supposed to be at work? And what happened to your cheek?" She asked, moving over to the side of the street with him, and out of the flow of traffic.
Bolt waved the questions off, he was getting a little sick of hearing about his bruise. Did nobody ever get bruises anymore? "Never mind all that. Will you do me a favor?"
"Depends, what's the favor?" Becky asked, looking up at him suspiciously.
"Could you just tell Hannah that I can't make it to lunch today? She's going to wonder where I am."
"Why can't you tell her? The store's, like, two yards away." Becky asked, cocking her head to the side in question.
"I just can't, ok? Please do that for me? I'll be in your debt." Bolt pleaded, his eyes looking worried.
"Ok, sure. I'll do it. I think you're acting strange, but I'll tell her."
"Thanks, Becky. You're a life saver." Bolt said, tugging his hat at her in thanks, as he began to walk away.
"Wait! Bolt, are you in some kind of trouble, or something?"
Bolt hesitated for a moment, before answering, "Or something. Just tell Hannah I can't make lunch, ok?"
Becky nodded, watching him walk away, until the cold reminded her she was standing in the middle of the street in the freezing New York weather. She hurried into Avery's going directly to the ribbon counter. Hannah was there, chatting amicably with a customer, as she twisted and pinned little bits of ribbon into a small rosebud. Becky waited quietly until she was finished, the elderly lady she had been helping, thanking her.
"Dear, you are so gifted with this ribbon. I'm going to put this right on my favorite hat!"
"Thank you, Mrs. Loring, you're too kind," Hannah smiled brightly.
Becky stepped up to the counter, to the place Mrs. Loring had just vacated, "Hannah, do you have to be so well loved?" She asked, grinning at her friend.
"I can't help it, I just made her a ribbon rose!" Hannah replied, grinning back at her friend, "What are you doing here, Becky?"
"Well, I have an urgent message, from your man," Becky said, wiggling her eyebrows up and down.
Hannah's cheeks flamed red, "Becky! Ellie would have a fit if she heard you saying that!"
"When isn't Ellie having a fit?" Becky countered.
Hannah laughed at that, "True," She conceded, "Really, though, it is improper. And if Mr. Morrison heard you saying that, he'd fire us both."
Becky shrugged, "I'll be careful not to say it around him, then. But, anyways, he told me to tell you he couldn't make lunch."
"Really? Where did you see him? Isn't he here?"
Becky shrugged, "I just saw him a few minutes ago, outside. What's with that bruise of his, anyways, did he get into a fight or something?"
"Elijah? In a fight?" Hannah laughed at the idea, "I don't think so, Bec, he doesn't do that anymore. He said he rolled out of bed, and hit his head on the night table." Hannah paused, her face taking on a thoughtful appearance, "I wonder what he was doing outside, though. Oh, you don't think Mr. Morrison fired him, do you?!"
Becky shrugged again, "I don't know, he did look a little preoccupied, though."
Hannah sighed, "That doesn't mean anything these days. He's been out on some other planet lately."
"I don't know, then, Hannah. What I do know is that I have to get going. Mrs. Greskin won't tolerate me being late again. She's not as sweet as you're Mrs. Loring." Becky complained, referring to the elderly lady she worked for, as a companion.
"Alright, don't be late. I'll see you later,"
"Bye," Becky offered one last smile, and a little wave, before she was on her way to Mrs. Greskin's again.
When I look back now, I see how perfect they were for each other. Sometimes I wonder if they even saw it. Few people were supportive of them being together. In the beginning, even I'll admit that I had my qualms about it. I wonder, if they'd had the support of their friends and family, if things would have turned out differently. But I guess we'll never know.