Right Into Place

Fifty-One

And I was back. I haven't seen her since I got to Europe and I was happy with that bit of information. I threw the ring somewhere around the toy shop in Queens and never bothered to look for it when I tore the place apart. I left everything there, my music boxes, the antique toys, my memorabilia, that ring, my dad's journals and other stuff. If I could leave the memories, I would have left them all there.

I left my dad's shop to Vannie and her brother, knowing they'll take care of it —after I destroyed it sometime before that year ended. I worked along with Franco but I didn't handle the branches, he was much too better at that, I handled the factories, moving from place to place for the first six months of the year and the other six months staying at the headquarters of all the factories that produced millions of different toys daily.

I threw the life of fixing music boxes, taking coffee two doors to the left, having the most wonderful Thursdays, fixing old toys, waking up at midnight to talk and many more down the drain. Things are different in Europe.

Now here we are.

"Franco would you shut the damn radio?" I yelled, seeing as it was a need because his whole apartment seemed to be soundproofed. I heard a muffled, "I'm in the shower!"

It was a long way from his radio. It was too much of an effort to go all the way and shut it down because that song might end any moment later. But it was rather annoying. I turned the radio off before it sang another verse of "You Are My Sunshine."

It was easier for me to get dressed than Franco as he always had to suit up very formally. I can settle for any work clothes as at most, what I do is walk around the factories and make sure I could slip into the safety gears easily. Plus I use what I learned as a mechanic engineer to fix the basics of those machines I can actually fix. Lately, Franco had been excellent as he was near closing a deal with Hasbro, one of the largest toy-producing companies that took Easy-Bake Ovens and pump action water guns into the next level.

Once I was done with the radio, I walked back to the sofa and took out a newspaper, reading through the latest news. Later on, Franco came around wearing his expensive suit with a mug of coffee in his hands. He's just as much overworked as I am. And lately, he stopped trying to flirt with Cara because he's busy and she was as well.

"Good thing we're in HQ," Franco said, "Damn it, I'm tired as fuck. Want to come with me on the Hasbro deal?"

I shook my head, my eyes never leaving the paper that had a bit of international news. "Two generators need fixing, rotational blackouts had been occurring," I replied as briefly as I could as I needed to read.

"Leave the fixing to the mechanics, we have loads. You're just the supervisor," he said with a scoff and for a moment, I believed him. Later on, he snatched the paper from me. "Whatcha readin' there? Oh. Another terror attack in New York, I see. Train station?"

"Eh don't worry 'bout her, mate." Who even said I was? He patted my shoulder. "Worry about the two generators that needed fixing. And also your eyes that needed sleeping."

"You're one to talk," I mumbled, pointing at the dark circles around his eyes.

"Chicks dig the dark side." He smiled right after and walked away. "On your feet, lad. We haven't got all day."

It's not like we both ride the same car everyday. We just go to work at the same time. He goes to the HQ of all the toy stores, becoming the biggest toy store containing billions of different kinds. I handle the factories two blocks away where I'm surrounded by workers along with the smell of oil, rubber, metal, plastic, cloth, smoke and all the rest that leaves me looking tired by the end of the day. My hands turn dirty, my hair has all the particles from each station, some parts of my clothes stained and the full package. Yet I chose it. Machines are easier to work with than people.