Breaking The Rules

"Would you like to come in?" she asked when we got to her house. We both knew that I couldn't go back to the apartment just yet but when I hesitated she said, "Taking someone home is not fraternizing."

Three hours later, at her door, laughing, she said, "Now that's what I call fraternizing!"

*~*

Nothing was said. It was as if Rule # 2 had been lifted.

We saw less and less of Jake. He would come in and help out when we were the busiest, then disappear, saying he had a paper to write or that he would be at the library if we needed him. I got into the habit of escaping to a back booth during slack times to catch up on reading assignments. By the end of the quarter I was back on track, expecting to pass all of my courses.

Our schedules became fixed. I took the early shift on Saturdays and Jerry was stuck with late closings. It became routine for Carrie and me to go to the movies, after which we would return to the restaurant to help close. I couldn't put my finger on why business had picked up; perhaps it was the season. There were no more schedule changes involving the early shift at the bakery.

Jerry and Carrie established a new rule. When they said, Rule # 5, I was to make myself scarce. Fortunately, I had a place to go. Brenda, being ten years my senior, wisely rejected my advances toward a serious relationship but she was not against breaking the rules. She enthusiastically endorsed Rule # 5.

We had a week break between quarters. I used the days off to scrape the old paint from the window frames and put on a fresh coat. I also used the time to fight with Jake over my school schedule. In order to take later morning classes I would have to take a 3 o'clock class which meant we would not arrive at work before a quarter past four. Jake said there was no way he could let us do that. On Monday and Tuesday he quoted Rule # 3a: Eat on your own time.

Jerry worked on him on Wednesday but made no headway. Jake was now strengthening his argument, invoking Rule # 3 proper, 'Your schedules will be flexible and you will be expected to adjust as your work schedule changes.' By inference, he was threatening to make us work the early shift at the bakery again. We backed off.

On Thursday, I appealed to Jake's sympathetic nature, reminding him that he was a student too. We had the same needs, sleep. He relented.

On Friday, Jerry and I went to the campus to arrange our dream schedules. Our first classes of the day would be at 10 A.M.

*~*

Stephanie called us in. I was the last to go. First Jerry, then Carrie, then Brenda had preceded me but we did not get a chance to compare notes so I didn't know what to expect.

It was my first visit to the corporate office. I went up the back stairs and along the hallway, passing the door to which, I knew, must be Jake's apartment. I stopped to read the sign over the office door: "Cupid, Inc."

The large room was brightly lit and freshly painted. The walls were filled with photos of Tom, Stephanie and others. There were photos of their wedding, at ribbon cuttings and views of them cooking, serving and baking. Stephanie was always out front, beautiful, exposing only half of Tom's body to make him look...almost slim. One of two desks in the main room was occupied by a woman who directed me to one of two offices.

Stephanie was seated at a mahogany table, simple in design, yet elegant, 'like her,' I thought. Windows overlooked Main Street below. The walls were decorated with a flowered wall covering that matched the carpet. She rose to greet me and, as I had remembered, her grip was strong and sure.

"In less than three months you've managed to break or skirt around each of Tom's rules," she began, leaning toward me to deliver her message in a crisp, hushed voice, almost a whisper. Her hair was combed back on the sides of her face, just touching her ears to suggest a 'butch' look. In contrast, she wore a ruffled white blouse and a black skirt that flowed, as I had seen when she stood, to her ankles.

I acknowledged her charge, silently, wondering if she was wearing an ankle bracelet. 'Which ankle?' I would never know.

"Everyone knows," she continued, letting her voice rise, shaking her head in disbelief, "except for Tom of course."

There was melancholy in her eyes as they searched mine. "It would devastate him if he found out, those rules are sacred to him, he is under the impression that strict enforcement of the rules has made us successful."

I wanted to ask why Tom had let us have the refrigerator, 'a place to stash your beer,' he had said. But somehow I knew; it had been Stephanie who had gotten him to relax that rule.

Without my having said a word, we reached an understanding. The meeting was over and Tom would not be the wiser. She rose with me, taking my hand, smiling as she leaned forward to whisper, "I'm sure we're going to make this work." Her grip was strong and sure.