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 Posted: Sat Dec 12, 2009 8:41 am
Charlie could've gone to the bank himself, filled out a Savings Withdrawal slip and replenished the register himself from his own meager bank account. He felt awkward it hadn't occured to him sooner -- his mind had gone straight to 'you'll be fired!' and ventured no farther. But the way Miriam offered it bespoke confidence and security, and her Crystal uniform backed that up. And she didn't want to be seen working any more than she had to: no, she was a rich girl, he was feeling more certain of that now.
She'd probably gotten into some kind of trouble -- wrecked Daddy's car, maybe? -- and had to work it off at a job where her friends wouldn't know, wouldn't see she was doing day labor. Or this was some terribly humiliating project for her Advanced Honors With Tea And Crumpets Sociological Perspective class. You didn't pick up a holier-than-thou attitude like Miriam's at the five and dime. So he sent her off -- "I'll wait here and finish sweeping up." -- because seventy-five dollars probably wasn't a drop in the ocean for her, and it was for him (it was, in fact, close to enough to put him into overdraft).
But then, she was bailing him out. Why was she bailing him out?
If she'd let him be fired, there was every chance she'd get one of those male underwear models who hadn't made the cut at Hollystar as her new coworker. They'd probably be more her sort of person -- wealthy, personable, big into cufflinks and Versace. Maybe Miriam Jacobs was just a bit softer than she looked.
He'd just finished mopping out the restroom and was spraying windex on the storefront windows when his coworker returned.
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Posted: Sat Dec 12, 2009 9:22 am
In her mittens, earmuffs and bulky winter coat, Miriam looked younger. The ancient wool peacoat was a little ridiculous on her: it looked like it belonged to an old man, perhaps an old New Yorker. Maybe she was from New York. Maybe everyone dressed like that in New York. She rapped, or rather bonked, on the glass with one of her mittened hands. Charlie let her in and she came inside, immediately shedding her mittens -- both knitted and white -- and digging into her oversized pockets.
She spared him any further Miriamisms as she counted out the change. Perhaps she'd run out. Or maybe she'd decided to resume her vow of silence since she'd gone to the bank. Things had been going very well between them, Charlie reflected, until she'd broken that vow of silence. Maybe she had noticed this too. He couldn't say he was particularly heartbroken at the prospect of missing her sparkling conversation. If he was lucky, maybe they'd develop a system of hand signals that removed any further necessity for verbal communication between the two of them.
She laid out the money neatly, parallel, on the counter: a ten. Three fives. Thirteen ones. Two rolls of quarters, dimes, nickels, and six rolls of pennies.
"That should cover it," she said.
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Posted: Sat Dec 12, 2009 9:53 am
"Listen, you -- " He cut himself off, changed his mind. There was his job back, in stacks of money on the counter, courtesy of Miriam Jacobs. Grilling her about why she'd done it, as his father was so fond of doing -- when she clearly wasn't a person who liked emotional outpouring -- seemed a bit too rude. "Thanks, Miriam," he said instead. "You saved my job."
He picked up the roll of quarters and smacked it against the side of the counter, like cracking open an egg. The paper split dutifully, and he poured the quarters out into the drawer, then dropped the second roll still wrapped on top. He did the same with the dimes, and so on until the drawer was refilled. Charlie sighed with relief.
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Posted: Sat Dec 12, 2009 11:32 am
Instead of responding to him right away, Miriam peered into the drawer and mentally counted the money. This was a little annoying, Charlie had to admit, as it inherently implied that the money might have somehow gotten itself lost in the time it took him to put it in the drawer. Still, he -- wasn't going to complain. He still owed her his job. And besides, he was starting to wonder if all this counting and double-checking had less to do with him and more with some... inscrutable, type-A manner by which Miriam Jacobs lived her life.
Satisfied, she straightened up again, still in her winter coat. "I need to change back into my uniform," she informed him, which in no way resembled you're welcome. "I'll be a moment in the stockroom."
And with that, she turned her back on him and disappeared into that favorite room of hers once again.
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Posted: Sat Dec 12, 2009 1:13 pm
He opened his mouth to reply, but she was gone; so he closed it again, looking like a fish, glub glub. Six hours was not enough time to make any sense of Miriam Jacobs. One day was not enough time to make any sense of her. Charlie wondered if the whole holiday work season would go as badly between them as today.
But the day was done, and the money was in the register. He'd lock up the drawer inside the safe when Miriam got back from changing her clothes, and they'd go home. Charlie swept the last dirt pile off the floor into a dustpan, and dumped it in the trash.
Leaning against the counter, he bounced the ring of keys in his hand. Well, they said the first day at any job was the hardest.
Charlie hoped so.
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