I've already got the two end tables stuffed into the backseat of my car as I make my way to Steve's antique shop. It's the last thing I have to check off of my to-do list for today and I'm anxious to be done with it all. I just want to curl up on the couch as we watch "The Descent" alone in the dark while I chew on overly salted popcorn and guzzle endless pints of beer.
Scratch that. Let's make it whiskey. Now that my secret is out, there's no reason to hold back anymore. I can slurp back whiskey at any time I want. I'm not sure what kept me from doing so before. Maybe it was the pleasure of having a secret, something that only I knew about, but I don't have that privilege anymore and I plan to take full advantage of that fact. After a day like today, I'll definitely be needing something a hint stronger than just your average beer.
I parallel park like a true ten-year-old and then swing my door open. I peer up at the sign of Steve's shop and heave a tired sigh. Here we go.
I pull one end table from the backseat and waddle my way towards the entrance of the store. With much difficulty and much bumping around, I finally manage to get inside. Thankfully, the piece of furniture remains flawless when I finally present it to Steve.
He's crouched down at a small shelf using an old rag to dust off a collection of little wooden frogs. Those things have been around since before my great-grandma Harriet. They're ancient and they're only going to grow older as we watch them collect dust until the termites take over and eat out their insides. Sounds brutal, but I have no doubt that will be their fate. They're ugly little things and they deserve to be eaten...
Which is why I tap Steve on the shoulder, hand him a five, and adopt the little critters right then and there. I can't bear to watch them wither into dust. Now they're mine and I will love them as much as a person can love a useless object.
"Mercy!" Steve says as he hesitantly takes the money from my outstretched hand, surprised to find me in his shop. "What are you doing here?"
"Three reasons," I say, walking to the front counter to grab a bag and then returning to Steve's side to drop the small frogs inside. "Firstly, these are mine now." I indicate the small carved frogs with a wiggle of my eyebrows in their direction. "Secondly, I've delivered the side tables."
"Delivered them?" He stands as he says this, clearly shocked that I'd do such a thing. "Mercy, you didn't have to do that. I would have gladly come to collect them as normal."
"No biggie," I say, waving off his concern.
"Can I see them?"
I just nod, and then step to the side to give him a full view of the end table behind me. I watch his eyes scan the designs I've woven into the hard lumbar and wait for his response. As always, he's pleased. Very pleased. So pleased that he swivels around and grabs me up in his arms, giving me an extremely generous—if not inappropriate—hug. I just stand there in his hold, very much uncomfortable with this predicament. Touchy people bother me... a lot.
I have to hide a visible shiver when he finally releases me from his hold. I feel violated. To most that would have appeared to be the most grateful, platonic hug on the face of the earth. But to me, the girl who's allergic to all human contact—apart from a carefully selected few—it was like letting someone nibble on my earlobe. Inappropriate and disgusting. Steve should understand my repulsion to touchiness by now. I shy away from every friendly gesture he's ever attempted. It just so happens that today he caught me entirely off guard. I'll have to spend an extra twenty minutes in the shower tonight scrubbing him off my body.
I feel angry.
I'm too lazy to have to deal with Steve and his cooties.
Breathing out a sigh in order to conceal my irritation, I just motion with my hand for him to follow me. Without a word, I swivel on my heel and head toward the entrance. Steve trails behind me, muttering about work. While it appears that I'm not listening to a single word, I'm actually paying close attention to every word he says. Just because he annoys me doesn't mean he isn't a decent person. He doesn't deserve my rude behavior, but I just can't help it. When he invades my personal bubble, I get mad.
We arrive in front of my car and I swing the door open before crawling partially inside the vehicle so I can pull the other end table out. I feel a soft tap on my shoulder blade and glance behind me.
"Let me," Steve offers, shooing me away with a flick of his wrist.
I don't argue, even though I should. If he knew what kind of mean thoughts I'd been having about him over the past few weeks—maybe even months—then he wouldn't be so nice to me all the time. I watch as he lugs the piece of furniture back into the shop and then stops at the front desk to inquire about something. I watch Jessalyn's face light up at whatever he's just told her, but his words are so whispered that I can't make them out.
As I stand waiting for Steve to get his butt back over here, I suddenly realize something. I don't hate Steve. He doesn't even bother me all that much. Of course, the touching has got to stop, but aside from that, he's plenty pleasant enough. He's just a little different and that's okay. It's okay not to be like every other person on the planet. I happen to know how that feels.
I see Steve's lips move as a smile lifts his features. It's at that moment that I see him differently. I see him as a human being with a heart and thoughts and feelings. I can't be disrespecting him like this—even if most of the disrespect takes place internally. He's been good to me, and I want him to know I appreciate him.
For the first time, I don't look at him as my boss, or as the guy who wishes I belonged to him. In truth, I'm not sure if that last one is even true. Sure, he's nice, but I almost get the feeling that's just who he is. He treats Jessalyn—the store manager—almost exactly how he treats me. Actually, upon closer inspection, I could almost detect a hint of flustered flirting in their interaction now. It's an odd thing to witness because Steve is not a good flirt, but I won't deny that it's slightly entertaining. I'll have to bring Seth to the shop one day just so he can watch the interaction with me. We could even order Mexican food. It'd be like dinner and a movie.
Finally, Steve pulls himself away from the giggling Jessalyn, and I make sure to shoot a humored look her way before following Steve to the side tables.
"So, Jessalyn is calling up the client," Steve begins to say. "I expect he'll be here later today to pick them up."
"Okay."
Really? You just spent five minutes asking Jessalyn to make a phone call. I can actually believe it. It'd probably go something like this...
"Hey, Jessalyn?"
"Yeah?"
"Hi."
"Oh." Insert giggles. "Hi."
"How are you?"
"Um..." Insert more giggles. "Same as I was this morning when you asked."
"Good. Good."
"Yeah."
"So, Jessalyn?"
"Yeah."
"Uh..." Awkward pause. "Oh! Did you ever get around to feeding your dog those green tea biscuits I was telling you about?"
"Yeah, he didn't really react all that well to them."
"You made sure they were decaf, right?"
"Yeah."
"Good. Good." Nods wisely. "So he doesn't like them?"
"He loved them. They just gave him diarrhea."
"Oh! Diarrhea!" Insert immature laughter. "That probably wasn't fun for you."
"No."
Another awkward pause.
"So, Steve?"
"Yeah?"
"Did you actually need something?"
Seconds tick by as Steve thinks.
"Oh yeah." Laughs at his own lack of memory. "I just need you to make a phone call."
Pathetic, I tell you. Pathetic. I can't imagine what a date would be like for the two of them, but I do know one thing is for certain... I'd want to be there. I'd get hired as their waitress just so I could be a part of making their evening special. By special, I mean that I'd do everything possible to make it memorable.
I'd have their table so suffocated with roses, they'd have to peer through them to get glimpses of each other throughout the evening. I'd make sure to draw hearts in Jessalyn's pasta using the sauce. And if she didn't order pasta, I'd give it to her anyway.
Instead of a mariachi band, I'd have ballet dancers—only they'd have to figure out how to dance to rap music because that's the only thing that would be playing. And, of course, for dessert, I'd present them with a Matilda-sized chocolate cake with the words "Always and Forever" iced onto the top. Oh, and there might possibly be a gigantic purple ring-pop hidden somewhere inside.
But, now, as I glance back and forth between the two, I realize something else...
They're kinda cute. I mean, in all honesty, neither are what you'd call jaw-droppingly stunning, but they're both kind-hearted and compassionate. They would be good together. And, I'm thinking that with her eyes, her lips, her hair, and his hands... their children would be adorable. He's got small hands, so they wouldn't look awkward on a child at all.
"Welp," Steve says, dusting his little hands off on his pants, "I guess that's it." He offers a warm smile. "Are you ready for your next project?"
"Ready as I'll ever be," I say with an enthusiastic punch to the air.
"Great." Steve eyes me for a brief moment and I suddenly have an urge to back away slowly. "How ya holding up?" He suddenly asks. My suspicion towards him evaporates instantly. "You never called me back and I just want to make sure you're doing okay after... you know."
"Yeah," I nod as I answer, "I'm doing as well as can be expected. I'll be fine, though."
"That's good." He smiles at me and then motions towards the back storage room.
I follow Steve through the doorway to where he reveals a bed frame that he wants me to get to work on. It looks simple enough, so I shrug and nod along to all his suggestions. Once we've got the details figured out and we've set up a time to go lumbar shopping with the clients, then I'm ready to go.
I make my way to the main entrance but stop just before exiting. Steve is directly behind me and I know I've surprised him when I see his eyes go wide as he quickly stops to avoid crashing into me.
"Remember, you asked me what I was doing here today?" I remind him.
"Yes," he says with a nod and a smile.
"I said I came for three reasons."
"Oh, right," he says cheerfully, resting his hands on his hips. "What's the second reason?"
Shows how much he pays attention.
"I already told you the second reason," I say. "I came to buy those frogs and I came to deliver the tables."
"Ah, yes," he responds with a nod of acknowledgment. "So what's your third reason?"
"Right. So..." I pause for a moment.
There's a very big possibility that what I'm about to say next could go very badly. Hearts could be broken, and I'd hate to do that. I'm not trying to cause him pain or make his life hard. My intentions here today are solely for Seth. I have to do what's best for us, right? So, instead of drawing it out and gaining suspense only to shatter poor Steve's spirit, I just let the words leave my lips. It's like a band-aid, right? Just rip it off and get it over with?
"I hate to do this to you, Steve," I start to say, almost tempted to reach out and rub some compassion into his shoulder, but my fingers shy away from doing so. Instead, I just pucker my lips to the side in sympathy as the two simple words fall into the space between us. "I quit."
He stares at me, stunned, for several seconds before finding his voice again. "But you just accepted your next project?"
"Well, yeah," I say, a smile making its way to my lips. "I wasn't just going to abandon you. I'll stay around until you can find a replacement, but you've only got a month and I'm gone."
"A month," he ponders, rubbing a thumb over his jaw. "Fine." He lets out an exaggerated groan. "I accept your offer."
"Glad to hear it," I answer with a laugh, "because your opinion wouldn't have changed my decision, but I do hope to leave on good terms. I've enjoyed working for you."
"And you've been a joy—" he stops suddenly, cutting himself off as he considers his words. "Let's just say you've been an... interesting asset to this company and your skills will be missed."
"Gee, thanks," I say, trying to muster up even a smidgen of hurt. Unfortunately, I can't. I don't get offended by the truth. So, I finally shrug and offer a quick handshake. "It's been good."
It's not until I buckle myself into my car and rev the engine that my actions set it. It's like a torpedo to the chest. This is a huge deal. I needed that job. We needed that job.
The entire drive home, my mind echoes those two life-changing words.
I quit...
Who knew that such simple words would have the power to change everything?
---
Okay, I'm not gonna lie... I reread this chapter 3 times during editing, and I honestly laughed out loud every time I read the "Steve's little hands" part. Hence the title of this chapter, because that part made me happy (even if nobody else thought it was funny). Lol.
So, did any of you suspect that Mercy's next move in her marriage would be to quit her job? Do you think she has good motives for doing so?