Ugly(58)

He turns back and winks at me before he says with perfect pronunciation, “What food?” With that he leaves, taking his food trolley out and going on to the next room.

I’m left gazing at the door.

I once thought he was a true gentleman, someone who saw a woman and knew how to treat her.

But now I’m convinced he’s something much more. Now I know he’s an angel.





I’m back at work today. Trent told me I was allowed to stay home and recover for three days after I left the hospital, and I did. But I think he wanted me to do two of his assignments which were due, because the first morning before he left for his residency he woke me and told me he’d leave work on the kitchen table and to make sure it’s done by the time he got home.

It was a difficult assignment and I’m not even sure if I got it right, but he said he was happy with it when he got home. The next day, he left another. This was easier, but considering I don’t understand much of medicine, he said I did well and he should pass. He also told me if he failed, it’ll be my fault. He said it in that low voice, which tells me it’ll be in my best interest for him to pass.

The store has been crazy. I’ve got three cashiers off and it’s Thanksgiving in a few days, so it’s been extra busy.

“Excuse me, ma’am, could you show me where the cranberry jelly is please?” one elderly gentleman asks me.

“This way, sir.” I take him to the aisle well-stocked with cranberry sauce.

“Thank you,” he says, as he tips his bowler hat to me.

I smile at him, and go back toward the cashiers to see how they’re coping.

“Excuse me, canned pumpkin?” a young girl asks me. She looks worried and stressed. “I forgot to get the pumpkin for my pie, and Mom told me to make sure I get to the store and get some before you sell out.” She lets out a long, drawn-out sigh and runs her hand through her light brown hair. “I’m so stupid,” she resigns.

“No you’re not. Everyone forgets things from time to time. And I’m sure we’ve got extra.” I smile warmly as I lead her to the aisle.

“Thank you, you’re a lifesaver,” she says, as she juggles four cans of mashed pumpkin.

“You’re welcome.” I step away and go to check the cashiers and their need for change when I get a tap on the shoulder. I turn and come face to face with the dark, captivating eyes I saw in the hospital. “Max,” I cry. I feel my face burn with embarrassment as I look around me trying to see if anyone knows where I know him from. Of course my mind is aware that’s a completely ridiculous notion, but there’s a small part in my brain which screams in my ear, telling me everyone knows.

“H-how are y-you?” he stutters as he stands tall before me. I notice just how tall he really is. I need to look up, to see his stellar, dark eyes.

I fist a hand through my thinning hair and pull a few strands out. It’s something I’ve been doing when I get nervous, especially just before Trent is due to come home. “I’m good.” I steady the wave of fear cascading through me.

“Y-you’re look-looking really good. Much be-better than wh-when I saw you l-last.”

I feel the corners of my mouth tug up in a smile, and I can’t help but beam at his words. “Thank you, Max,” I say nervously shifting from one leg to the other.

“I-it’s okay, y-your secret is s-safe with me.” He winks at me again. He’s done that before, and although I find it peculiar, I also like it.

“Um…” I look to him and feel my bashfulness overtake the sane and logical part of my brain. “Do you need help with anything?” I stop for a moment as a thought strikes me. “How did you find me?” Suddenly I feel exposed, because he’s somehow stalked me to here.

“I-I live near here. J-just down the road. B-but I don’t like this st-store, it’s always t-too busy.” He chuckles at his own words, and I smile.

“Hang on, when did you move here?” Suddenly, I remember the first time I saw him was back where I was living with Trent and his parents. Now we’re hours away and I find myself standing in front of the one man I actually think of as a gentleman.

“I be-beg your par-pardon?” he questions in a somewhat agitated state.

“I’m sorry, I should explain,” I say, then continue to tell him how I once saw him at the deli beside my old work.

“I-I thought you might h-have followed me,” he jokes, then laughs.

“I’m sorry, I must have come across as a stalker. Trust me, I’m not.” I look down, knowing for a moment that a miserable feeling of humiliation is pending. He’s going to tell me he’d never look at such a fat, ugly, stupid person so there’s no need to stalk him.