When Michael returned home later that night, soaked, dripping, shoes damping the welcome mat, he discovered that the television was on in the living room again.
Another soap opera greeted him at the door with grand declarations of love and longing set behind the gentle hymns of violin strings.
After a bit of struggle pulling loose his socks, Michael walked deeper inside, ignoring the man on the TV's brazen advances, expecting to find another bowl of potato chips somewhere and the potent aroma of grapes swirling in the air.
Lilith was fast asleep. Curled in a ball with most of her face buried against the head of the sofa, her resting figure bathed in the glaring colors of the television screen. Beside her, a bowl with small meager crumbs sitting at the very bottom, as well the gleam and shimmer of an empty wine glass laying just an inch away from her fingers.
It really was late.
Michael managed to unearth the TV remote from the fabric of her sleeping gown, bringing an instant silence to the ambiance with a click of a button. As gently as he could, he scooped up his wife in his arms, taking great care to avoid any creaks in the floorboards as he strode toward the bedroom door.
In spite of all of his precautions, however, she began to slowly stir, eyelids fluttering drowsily.
"Leo?"
He looked down at her; barely-opened, barely cognizant pair of eyes peering back at him.
"Michael," he corrected her.
"Oh…" she breathed out lightly, forming a hazy smile, blinking once. "Oops…"
Lilith shifted about, squirming herself until her body rested much more comfortably in his rigid hold.
"So," she said huskily, her voice rousing with a hint of sarcasm. "You're home early."
"Sorry for making you wait for me always," Michael said, nudging open the door to their bedroom and entering. "It won't happen again."
"Oh? Really?" She lifted her head a little. "No more unpaid overtimes late into the night? Finally quenched that little boredom spell of yours?"
Michael leaned down, placing Lilith down on her side of the bed, swiping back loose strands of hair over her eyes, before shuffling off to the closet nearby for a change of clothes, all without speaking another word.
"Well?" She yawned, asking another question. "Was it Rudy?"
Michael jumped slightly, fitting into a fresh pair of pants. "Yes."
"Did you take care of it?"
"In a way."
"Leave that," Lilith suddenly said, stopping Michael just as he reached for a shirt. "I sleep better without it."
After a moment, Michael closed the closet, shirt left untouched in its pile, and headed for bed, sliding into the empty spot beside his wife, who promptly snuggled herself in under his chin the moment the opportunity presented itself to her.
"In a way," she repeated, giggling sluggishly. "What does that mean?"
"I took care of it," Michael said, throwing the blanket over them both. "That's what it means.
"Sounds promising," Lilith then clung an arm around him, huddling close, and her eyelids began to fall again, her words trailing warmly against his bare chest. "I suppose it's… back to normal then, hm?"
Michael started running his fingers through the soft, wavy locks on her head, tenderly lulling her back to slumber.
In time, he felt her body loosen, her breathing quietened, contentment a faint impression in the corner of her lips… her question left lingering in the silence… and he laid there, wide awake… not knowing how to answer just yet.
The following day, like a hazy dream - everything felt as normal as could be.
Work went by at its usual pace. Charles was tinkering all alone in his secluded corner, while Matt grumbled on and on about finding a sudden dent on the side of his favourite wrench. As if nothing had happened, as if all was well, the events of last night merely a foggy dream.
Then during lunch, for the first in seemingly ages, Rudy approached from the corner of his gaze and took a seat right next to him, flapping open and holding up a hasty, messily-made meal of bread and peanut butter.
They had onlookers. Matt and Charles both - rearing their heads up in the distance, sharing the same brazen look of curiosity. Rudy ignored them, or rather, he couldn't spare the focus to notice much of anything else.
"Nothing… no one showed up today," Rudy said with a slight stammer.
In response, Michael grunted and nodded his head once, his mouth brimming with the tender taste of chicken.
"No bruise on your head. You know, I thought you'd… for today… I mean, you didn't go to a hospital?"
Michael finished chewing his meal first before he answered. "No bruise. As you said."
Rudy continued to stare up at him, peanut butter oozing out between his bread slices, seemingly forgetting to take a bite.
"You're seriously not hurt?"
"Forget me," Michael said firmly. "Today. What's your plan? What are you going to do?"
Rudy's lips narrowed as much as his slice of bread. "I… I figured I'd leave work early today. Head to their office. Explain myself, apologize. Hopefully, come to a sort of compromise, I guess… if they're, you know… willing…"
Michael took another bite, and Rudy paused, throwing him a quick, furtive glance that was anything but.
"I was hoping… hoping, uh, you'd come along with me too."
There was no second of hesitation.
"Yes," Michael said. "I'll follow. Whatever will help."
Relief began flooding Rudy's face like cracks in a dam bursting wide open, and in the raging torrent, mustered a weak smile.
"Payday's right around the corner. I figure… if they're willing to wait 'till then… then I'll just…"
"You're not giving them any more money," Michael said.
Rudy's smile faded to confusion. "What?"
"No more. I'll make sure of it."
"H-How exactly are you gonna…?"
"I'll make them see to reason," He said resolutely. "They'll have to."
"Michael…" Rudy gaped at him, drops of peanut butter staining his pants. "You… I don't get it… why are you…?"
"I'm helping because I said I will," Michael replied, seemingly reading his mind. "I told you before."
"Y-Yeah, but - "
"You made a mistake, and you've paid for it enough," he then turned his eyes towards Rudy, and continued heavily, "But you've also lied, and you have to pay for that too."
"Pay for… what do you mean?"
Michael turned again, wordlessly flinging his gaze far forward, toward the pacing silhouette peeking through the blinders of Jamie's office.
"Oh, no, no, no, no…" Rudy's eyes grew wide with horror. "Michael, you know I can't do that!"
"You've stolen from here, Rudy. From him."
"And I said I'll pay every single dime right back! I will! Just, Michael, I can't - I can't do it. The disappointment, the pain, I don't want to do that to him, alright? My uncle can't know!"
"Rudy…"
"You think I want to lie to him? That stealing from him was easy for me? I didn't have a choice! You want me to knock at his office and tell him I've broken his trust? That it's now beyond repair? That he's wasted every penny, every minute he spent on me? It isn't! He didn't! I'll pay! I'll give all I have! But the moment he finds out the truth, he will! He can't know! For his sake, please!"
Michael didn't speak, his gaze wandering away briefly to ponder. Some time ago, surely he had been in a discussion quite similar to this effect.
Lying in earnest. Lying for love. An all too familiar sentiment back home. Lilith's smile peered back at him in his mind, how keen she was to deceive for the sake of their would-be family.
But was that really right? To lie like that…
Would she be right to do so?
Would Rudy?
This content is taken from fr(e)ewebn(o)vel.𝓬𝓸𝓶