Frank and Michelle

A week later I walked out of Stevens Books with my first pay check in hand. Ralph had given me the option of getting paid either monthly or weekly (the pay was the same either way), and I’d picked the latter option. I stood there for a couple minutes, just feeling the weight of the envelope in my hand. There wasn’t much real weight to be it, true, they were just a few banknotes in a simple paper envelope; but it had a big metaphorical heft. The first money I had earned in over three years.

I wondered what I should do with it, besides setting some aside to pay my share of the bills, and maybe put something away for a rainy day. I thought about giving some to Michelle, but every time I’d brought up the idea she’d categorically refused to accept any cash from me; “Pay it forward,” she would say. Well, I wanted to pay it back, at least a little bit.

And I knew just the thing.

I took out my phone and texted Michelle that I would be home late that night, and then looked up the bus schedule.

I arrived home just after nine that evening: later than I’d planned, but I had to go a couple towns over by bus, and I’d missed a connection once. But it had been worth it: I’d found the perfect thank-you present for Michelle. I unlocked the door with the key Michelle had given me (“This way you won’t get locked out again” she’d commented with an impish smile), and stepped in. “Em, I’m home!” I announced.

“Oh, welcome back!” she said, getting up from the couch after gently shooing Conroy away from her lap. “You weren’t kidding, you are late. Everything okay? How was work?”

“Good. Work was good,” I replied. And it really was: Ralph was an excellent boss, he’d shown me around the shop in the first few days, and while for the moment I spent most of my time tidying up, he’d begun to show me how to make sales and man the till. Knowing his personality I was sceptical at first, but surprisingly I was enjoying my job.

“Listen, Michelle,” I said, pulling an envelope out of my pocket, “I have something here for you.”

She crossed her arms and gave me one of her capital-L Looks. “Frank…” she began.

I held up a hand. “Wait, please hear me out. I know you said I don’t need to pay you back,” I explained. “But this is different. Don’t think of it as repayment, it’s more of a thank-you gesture, for everything you’ve done for me. A way to show my gratitude.”

Michelle cocked her head to the side and considered my words for a few seconds, then smiled and said, “Okay. So, what’d you get me?”

I handed her the envelope. I watched her face closely as she opened it because I didn’t want to miss her reaction, and I wasn’t disappointed: I couldn’t even begin to describe her expression as anything but extreme delight as she pulled out two tickets for Avengers Endgame, Saturday 27th April at two PM, at the IMAX theatre two towns over.

“Oh my GOD I love it!” she squealed in happiness, and then jumped forward and hugged me. “Thank you thank you thank you!” she said.

I was glad she couldn’t see my face, because her hugging me put the stupidest grin on it. God, I loved this girl.

“I tried to get the premiere, but it was already sold out,” I said as we broke the hug. “Those were the best tickets I could get. Hope you don’t have to work that day.”

“You know I don’t,” she replied, still grinning; we’d gotten used to each other’s schedules. “And even if I did, to hell with it, I’d get a day off.”

Then she paused, as if she was remembering something. “Oh, speaking of work,” she said, walking over to her purse, which was hooked on a coat hanger next to the front door and retrieving a classy-looking, off-white envelope from it. “Here.”

I took the envelope from her hand, opened it, and read the card that was inside. “Dear miss Michelle O’Hagan,” I read out loud, “You are cordially invited to the wedding of Francesca Fuller and Henry Lucas on Saturday, the first of June, at Hampers Mill’s Inn. We have reserved two places at the table for you and your… Guest.”

I looked up at Michelle, who grinned.

“That’s my boss who’s getting married,” she said. “So, will you be my plus-one?”

I smiled. “Of course,” I answered. Then I realised something. “Wait, I’ll need to buy a suit.”

“Or you can rent it. We can go shopping this weekend or the next,” Michelle replied. “Not the following one, though, we have a date at the movies.”

Oh, so she thought of it as a date then? Fine by me.

True to her words, a few days later we were in a boutique at the local mall, a short bus ride from home, to buy some wedding-appropriate clothing. Michelle had tongue-in-cheek suggested I buy a dress, just for a lark, but after chuckling I’d marched myself over to the men’s section. There wasn’t much of a choice, most of the suits were either ugly or far beyond my price range (seriously, who buys a twenty-five hundred pound suit?), but I did manage to find something: a classic, two-piece dark blue suit, white shirt, and matching dark-blue tie. That, and the shoes, pretty much drained everything I’d earned during my first week at Ralph’s shop: I’d have to watch my expenses until the next payday, but in return I did get to see Michelle try on several nice-looking dresses – “Yeah, I do have plenty of skirts and dresses, but none that match your suit!” were her words – and she looked stunning in each and every one of them. Eventually she settled on a beautiful gown in the same colour as my suit, which hugged her modest curves and showed just a hint of her pale shoulders; the shop assistant suggested she wear her hair up with it, and after she quickly tied her mane into a high ponytail to check, I wholeheartedly agreed: her exposed neck was extremely enticing.

Not that I would ever dream of telling her that.

After that we settled back into our daily routine: wake up, have breakfast, go to work, come back, have dinner (after feeding Conroy), watch a movie. We went through all the backlog the Marvel Cinematic Universe had to offer, to be ready for the grand finale, and then moved on to other movies: at first more superhero stuff (I especially liked Wonder Woman), but then we gradually moved onto more “serious” fare; I found out that Michelle didn’t just like big-budget blockbusters, she was a serious movie buff, and she even taught me some stuff about shot framing, camera movement, and the tricks directors used to make the audience notice what they wanted them to. I have to admit though that most of what she told me didn’t stick into my mind; I was too busy looking at her to really pay attention to the screen. I could swear she noticed my gaze several times, and even smirked in return once or twice, but she never said anything about it.

And then it was time for our movie date.