The End of Nothing

Chapter 5

Margie was on a mission. Code name: avoid Silas at all costs, or ASAAC. She needed to work on the acronym a little more.

It all began when she went to visit her Mom in her room this morning, Minnie, of course, already at her mother's side. With a sweet smile, Minnie had asked her to fetch them some coffee, a chore not too difficult or suspicious, so Margie departed to do it happily.

Of course Silas had to be in the kitchen, fixing the coffee machine. Trusty Bernie at his side, telling him epic tales of his youth, most of them more than a little far-fetched. He was laying under the counter that housed the large, industrial coffee machine, his legs, in worn blue jeans, splayed out in front of him. On his feet a pair of dirty work shoes, the kind made more for a construction zone than a retirement facility, pushed into the linoleum flooring patterned to look like wood floors.

"Hey, Berns, can you pass me the flat-head screwdriver?" Margie glanced up from her perusal of him at his question. She looked over at Bernie just in time to see him stick his hand into the toolbox, pull out a wrench, give a shrug, then begin to hand the tool to Silas' blindly outstretched hand. With a short sigh, Margie reached into the toolbox, grabbed the screwdriver quickly, and swapped the tool in Bernie's hand before it reached Silas'.

"Woah, that's actually the right one this time. Good looking out man." Silas's reply from under the table caused Bernie to preen, forgetting that he wasn't the one who grabbed the tool initially. Margie watched the scene with a smirk on her face, so she wasn't going to be best friends with Bernie after all, it looks like Bernie chose his person. It was probably better for her this way anyway, she still had to deal with the likes of Mrs. Wu, and who knew what she could do, since she still had the misplaced grudge against Margie. She made a mental note to check her bed for itching powder, she'd heard whispers around that that was Mrs. Wu's favorite mode of retribution, or 'pranks' as everyone else called it.

"All done, this should work like new now," Silas announced as he pulled himself out from under the countertop. Margie wondered if she was drooling as she looked him over, golden hair sticking up in different directions from laying under the counter, a short beard, that along with his hair, looked like it was overdue for a cut. She was always a sucker for beards. A college t-shirt pulled across his chest, a small stain near one of his sides, suggesting that he'd not done laundry in a while, and perhaps this shirt was his last resort. Strong, tanned arms were crossed across his chest. Looking up into his face, she realized she'd been caught, a smirk adorned his face.

He opened his mouth, probably about to make some smart-aleck comment, when he was interrupted by Bernie, who began to tell his story louder, realizing he wasn't be listened to.

"What the history books don't tell you is I was sitting next to Rosa on the bus that day, and when they told her to move, I whispered to her no you stay right here, don't even think about going to the back of the bus." Satisfied that they were all listening, Bernie leaned back in his wheelchair, his face drawn out into a pout, his finger pointing, acting out his story.

"Rosa, as in Rosa Parks?" Margie questioned.

"Yes, of course. Who else is known for their bus fame?" Bernie answered sarcastically, his head cocked, looking at her as if searching her face for a reason that his story wouldn't be believable.

"Yeah, Margie, who else?" Silas said to her, a secretive, empathizing smile on his face.

"Girls, huh Silas," Bernie answered with a shake of his head. Margie chose to ignore Bernie, deciding that she should pick her battles, and side-stepped around Silas, intent on finally getting her Mom and Minnie those coffees.