Episode 73 The new Guy

 

The new Guys

The dorm room smelled of stale air and the faint, metallic hum of the gaming console. For an hour, the only sounds were the frantic, rhythmic clicking of buttons and the electronic chirping of the TV. Ted and Marco sat shoulder-to-shoulder, eyes locked on the screen in a silent, desperate competition. They sat there for about an hour, completely immersed in the game. Eventually, the play came to an end, and Ted put the controller down.

Ted stood up, his joints popping, and headed for the mini-fridge in the corner. He reached past the half-empty cartons to pull out a cold Dr. Pepper for himself and a root beer for Marco. He handed the can over, and for a second, the room went quiet. Some would say it was silly, but for Ted, he knew from his friends and from mixed experiences that drinking was just no good and often cost friendships, marriages, and families.

They toasted their cans together, and Marco took a seat on the fluffy sofa facing the bunk beds. Marco was the first to say it. "So Ted, you honestly want to get together back with Shelly? You know that. Yeah, maybe her family should have changed. Maybe your feelings just changed. You really want to do this?"

Ted responded, "Yes, my feelings haven't changed despite Allyson. My first love was always Shelly, and I want her back. She's all I could think about until I came back and now she's back. Yeah, my chance to get back together with her, and if I can show her that I'm sorry for breaking up, and that it was all just a mistake. I know her feelings are hurt, but I think we can go over this."

Marco eventually headed out for his run, leaving to cover his usual three miles. Ted got onto his knees and reached underneath the bottom bunk. He pulled out the hidden pictures of Shelly, staring at them for a long time before finally getting up and heading to the shower room. The facility was small—two toilets and one shower for every five dorms—but being guys, they didn't really need much. He took his shower, felt relaxed, changed into comfortable clothes, and kicked back in his bed until he fell asleep.

The next morning, Shelly got up early. She showered, dried her hair and put it up, and applied some light makeup before slipping on her jeans and Conference Center shirt. She went down to the fridge and got herself a bowl of Puffy Wheat cereal. As she ate, another girl came down, a new person we haven't spoken of before.

The girl looked at her and said, "Hey, newbie."

Shelly responded, "Technically, it's my second time working here, but it's okay, you didn't know." They laughed together, sharing a bit of early morning silliness.

"I work at accommodations, you know, housekeeping," the girl said.

"That’s where I work too," Shelly replied. "Do you work this morning?"

"Yes," the girl said. "I'm doing towel changes and cleaning up all the restrooms."

"Me too," Shelly said. "I forgot to ask your name, I'll try to remember. What's your name?"

"I'm Maren," the girl answered.

"There's only me, you, and I think a guy," Maren continued. "I don't know his name, it's just his first day. If you have any advice for him, it'd be helpful if you help him out."

Shelly finished her breakfast, put her shoes and name badge on, and headed to the supply office. Cassandra, the accommodation manager who was about thirty-seven, was already there going over notes and writing down assignments. She looked up as Shelly walked in.

"Oh, Shelly, you're here on time," Cassandra said. "You know, last time we were together, I was always getting onto you for being late. It's cool that you're on time. Well, since we don't have any guests this week, we're going to do basics. Towel changes for current guests, cleaning of all the restrooms—men's and women's—and the showers. And then we're going to do some deep cleaning since we have the time."

Shelly held up her hands playfully. "Okay, I'll behave."

Cassandra smiled just as Maren arrived. "Have you guys met?" Cassandra asked.

"Oh yes, we've met," Maren said. "But where's our third person?"

Right then, he arrived. He was five feet tall and very muscular, an amateur bodybuilder, but completely friendly and outgoing. He took a seat and immediately started cracking friendly jokes with everyone at the table.

"Okay, okay ladies," he said. "I think we're going to do good stuff."

Maren joked, "Well, after another cup of coffee."

The new guy, Gage, was so positive and energetic he just wanted to get to the work. Shelly asked him, "Do you have any housekeeping experience?"

"Yes," Gage said. "I worked for a conference center in Washington state doing the exact same thing."

Cassandra gave them their assignments. "You three get busy. Maren, you start with the towel changes. Shelly and Gage, Shelly will show you her set of keys and where any keys you need will be found. She'll show you all the linen closets in all the buildings, all the supply rooms, and everywhere you need to be for the showers and the rooms that are currently occupied. She'll show you the sheet that says who is currently in what building and what rooms."

Shelly was just staring at him. Cassandra had to repeat herself. "Shelly? You okay with that?"

Shelly stumbled and stuttered. "Oh, yes! That's... I was just thinking about the cookies I wanted to bake when I get off." She fumbled with her fingers and blushed a little bit before leading Gage out to show him the ropes.

Gage proved to be very personable. He wasn't just interested in fitness; he was extremely knowledgeable and bubbly on any topic. When the subject of books came up, Shelly was delighted. As they worked side-by-side doing towel changes, she found herself wanting to get to know this mysterious man better.

"You know," Gage said while they were loading the cart, "I just finished *The Grapes of Wrath* last night."

Shelly piped up, "Oh, for your first time?"

Gage cut her off with a smile. "No, no, I've read it think three times in my life. I just wanted to think about the implications in the book. It’s such a well-written book."

Shelly was taken aback. She thought to herself: *He’s good looking, he’s friendly, he’s kind, and he loves books.* She felt herself becoming captivated, totally forgetting about Ted for the moment. They worked together replacing towels, cleaning restrooms, and deep cleaning the recreational areas.

When noon arrived, it was time for lunch. Since there weren't many people around, the staff could get their meals from the cooks and eat on the side of the dining room not being used by guests, or go outside. Maren got her plate and headed out.

Gage said to Shelly, "There are some cozy benches on the other side. It’s really lovely."

Shelly got her styrofoam container of food and a chocolate milk, and Gage followed her out. From the patio, you could see anyone taking advantage of the park-like benches. Shelly and Gage sat down, laughing and joking, having a wonderful time.

Meanwhile, inside, Ted was with Marco. They were two of the people serving the fifty guests who were there. It was a busy shift, and Ted was focused on making sure everyone had a wonderful experience. Then, he heard a joyful cackle from outside.

He knew that laugh. It was Shelly. He felt a surge of excitement and went over to the window to say hi.

When he looked out, he saw the muscular man. Shelly was laughing with him, joking and having the best time Ted had seen her have recently. She was lightly placing her hand on his arm and laughing so hard they were both about to choke on their food.

Ted felt a wave of nervousness. He really wanted to get back together with Shelly, but now he saw he had to compete against this new guy. He wanted to continue watching them to see what happened, but he had his duties to attend to.

Episode 68: The Threshold

 

Episode 68: The Threshold

The mist followed them right up to the porch, clinging to Sarah’s hair like damp silk. Andrew didn't wait for her to struggle with the door; he moved with that quiet, efficient grace that always reminded her of a cat. Once inside, the silence of the house met them, but Alice wasn't having any of it.

"Out! Out!" Alice chirped, reaching for Andrew with her little arms outstretched.

Andrew’s face transformed. The leaden, somber mask he’d worn in the coffee shop crumbled, replaced by a look of fierce, protective pride. He unbuckled her with steady hands and lifted her high, his thumbs grazing her ribs as he checked for a giggle.

"Is that right, then? You’ve had quite enough of the carriage, have you?" he murmured, his voice low and vibrating with affection. He began tickling her tummy, then leaned in to nuzzle her ear, making Alice shriek with delight.

Sarah watched them, her hand resting on the granite counter—right next to Andrew’s discarded ring. Her heart felt like it was being squeezed. *I suppose I’ve missed this more than I dared admit,* she thought, her British lilt softening the edges of her internal monologue. It was properly lovely to see him so engaged, so present.

Andrew set Alice down on the floor, but he didn't let go of her hands. "Show Mummy what a big girl you are, then. Go on."

Alice didn't need a second invitation. With a determined huff, she toddled toward the long dining table, her tiny fingers catching the edge of the wood for balance. She worked her way halfway down the length of it, "wallpapering" herself along the side, her little legs bouncing with every successful step. She looked back at them, her face split in a wide, toothy grin, absolutely chuffed with her own progress.

Sarah leaned against the counter, a genuine smile finally breaking through her exhaustion. "Look at you, my brave little bird! You’re getting so tall, aren't you?"

The kitchen, which had felt like a cold, hollow vault just hours ago, was suddenly filled with the domestic noise of a life trying to restart itself. Andrew moved with a focused, quiet energy, pulling two thick steaks from the fridge. The iron scent of the meat hit the air as he laid them into a hot pan, the sizzle aggressive and loud.

Sarah watched as he pricked two large potatoes and one tiny, Alice-sized one, sliding them into the microwave. Then came the plastic snap of a container of green beans. It was all so... normal.

"I suppose you’re quite the chef when you’ve got a point to prove, aren't you?" Sarah murmured, her voice carrying that gentle, rhythmic lilt.

She watched him turn the steaks, the golden light of the stove reflecting in his eyes. She thought back to what he’d said earlier—that little slip of the tongue.

"You know, Andrew," she said, a playful, slightly sassy spark returning to her eyes for the first time in weeks. "I think my British phrases are properly wearing off on you. I noticed it at the shop."

Andrew glanced back at her, one eyebrow raised as he poked at the green beans. "Is that so?"

"Mmm," Sarah nodded, stepping closer to the heat of the stove. "Originally, you called it a stroller. But back there... you called it a *carriage*. If you aren't careful, you’ll be asking for a 'spot of tea' and complaining about the 'rubbish' weather by the end of the fortnight."

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of Andrew’s mouth—not a full laugh, but a crack in the ice. But as he moved between the spitting pan and the humming microwave, Sarah saw it—the slight catch in his breath, the way he braced his weight against the granite when he thought she wasn't looking.

He was trying to hide it behind a wall of stoicism, but she knew the map of his body too well. The battle on the cliffside hadn't just left emotional scars; he was physically coming apart. A wave of guilt washed over her—she’d been so wrapped up in her own muddle that she hadn't even asked about the physical toll. She wanted to reach out, but the peace felt like glass. If she touched it too hard, it would shatter.

Andrew took a portion of his larger steak and began cutting it into razor-thin, baby-sized slices for Alice. He mushed her tiny potato with a fork, blowing on it until it was perfectly cool. For his own, he loaded it with butter and a heap of bacon bits—strictly no sour cream, just the way he liked it.

He handed the plate to Sarah, and she fixed her own potato the way she’d been taught back home—mashing the fluffy insides with a generous knob of butter and a proper pinch of salt and pepper until it was smooth.

They sat down, the steam rising from the plates. "Shall we?" Andrew asked quietly.

They bowed their heads. Sarah led a simple, quiet prayer, her lilt soft and reverent, thanking the Lord for the food and the roof over their heads. When they said "Amen," the ghost of Josh and the memory of the cliffside sat in the empty chairs between them—but for tonight, they were uninvited guests.

Sarah watched him take a bite, noticing the way he gritted his teeth as he adjusted his seat. She knew. She saw every flinch. But she held her tongue, choosing instead to smile at Alice as the baby shoved a tiny sliver of steak into her mouth with a triumphant "Dada!"

Andrew stood up later, his jaw tight as he navigated to the fridge. He pulled out a cheesecake. He sliced a tiny bit for Alice, then plated a generous slice for Sarah and one for himself. He reached for the sprayable whipped cream and topped Sarah’s dessert with a neat swirl.

Then, he looked at Alice. A rare, genuine spark of mischief lit up his tired eyes. He pressed the nozzle down and didn't stop until Alice’s tiny portion of cheesecake was buried under a massive, wobbling tower of whipped cream.

Alice’s eyes went wide, her little mouth falling open in sheer, sugary disbelief. Sarah couldn't help it—a soft, melodic chuckle escaped her, and Andrew let out a low, raspy laugh of his own. For a few seconds, the ghosts were drowned out by the sight of a toddler face-planting into a cloud of cream.

"You’re going to have a proper 'live wire' on your hands tonight, Andrew," Sarah teased, her lilt bright. "She'll be bouncing off the ceilings, won't she?"

They migrated to the living room, a space that still felt like a gallery of their former life. Andrew sat heavily on the sofa, his frame sinking into the cushions with a suppressed wince. Sarah sat beside him, the baby nestled between them, as the familiar, quirky tunes of *VeggieTales* began to play on the telly.

They sat there in the dim light, the vibrant colors of the cartoon washing over them. Sarah kept her eyes on the screen, but her mind was on the man beside her. She felt the heat radiating from him and the way his breathing gradually slowed.

The "big girl" energy finally faded; Alice’s eyelids grew heavy, her head lolling against Andrew’s arm until she finally drifted off into a deep, cheesecake-induced slumber.

They didn't speak. They didn't move to turn off the show. They just sat in the flickering light, two people who had survived a war, watching a singing cucumber and trying to remember how to be a family..