Excerpt: Sunnyside Up (working title)

Here you go, an excerpt fresh from the insane first draft. Eat up!

Chapter 3

Molly hung up the phone and returned to the vat of sauce she was stirring. Rather violently, she added a blob of pesto. It stuck to the spatula, so Molly tapped it against the side of the pot. The pesto was flung into the pot, and splattered sauce on the stove top and on Molly’s white sweater.

“Bloody Hell!” she muttered, grabbing a sponge from the sink, and wiping off the cool parts of the stove. Then, she tossed the sponge into the sink, where it splashed into a full bowl of water that erupted over the countertop. Greasy wash water dripped down the window like rain. Wincing, Molly grabbed a towel and went to dry it off.

"It is a charmed life I lead," she groaned. "Wipe drool off of old people's chins, wipe greasy water off of windows, wipe sauce off of the stove. What is next? Am I going to have to wipe off people's asses as well?"

She looked down at her sweater. "Damn, this is a new sweater too." Before she could run upstairs to change, though, the vat of sauce began boiling over in sync with the pot of boiling water for the spaghetti. "DAMN!" she yelled, turning off all the burners on her gas stove. She rushed about with paper towels and picked the pots off of the stove. She placed them on the floor while mopping up large quantities of sauce and swearing under her breath. That is, until she heard a loud crash. She whipped around to see the pot of sauce split all over the floor next to Trevor's cat, Professor Moriarty, who was a fluffy white Maine Coon. Or, now he was a fluffy white Maine Coon drenched in tomato sauce.

"Oh, Moriarty! Christ, why do you always have to get in the way!" She picked him up by the scruff of the neck. "I hate you right now, you know that, right?" Moriarty just looked back at her with innocent blue eyes. Molly pursed her lips and growled.

Just then, the front door opened and Trevor walked in. When he saw his girlfriend, slightly covered in sauce holding his cat, drenched in sauce, both standing in the kitchen together that was completely cover in sauce, he stood there for a moment, just staring. Then, he burst out in laughter. He could not stop laughing, and he clutched is sides, howling, for about five minutes. All the wile, Molly just glared at him. When he saw his girlfriend's murderous stare, he sobered up immediately.

"Should I ask? Do I want to know?" he said.

"Unless you do not hold your life at a high value, I think it would be better if you did not." she said. "But if you could help me clean all of this crap up, I would be greatly appreciative."

"Sure. What do you want me to do first?" He took of his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his work shirt.

Molly handed him the cat. "Give your dumb cat a bath."

Trevor winced slightly. "Okay," he said, "I'll try." Then he picked up the cat at an arm's length and carried him up to the bathtub. From the bathroom, loud yowls and hisses could be heard soon thereafter.

Molly walked over to the closet and pulled out the mop and it's bucket and filled it with water and ammonia. Pulling on her rubber gloves, she held her breath while dumping some of the mop water on the floor and getting down to business. A wet, smelly and scratched forty five minutes later, both Molly and Trevor were done with their respective tasks and slumped over the couch. Molly had changed from her white sweater into sweats and Trev was in his college shirt. Both looked at each other, exhausted.

"I am thinking Chinese take out tonight. You?" asked Trev.

"Yes. I am definitely not cooking anything else tonight." They looked at each other again and laughed. "I have to admit, that was a ridiculous series of events."

"So what exactly happened?"

"Let's just say that it was like the little old lady who swallowed a fly: First there was a splatter, that lead to a splash that led to an overflow that led to a spill."

"Good enough for me." Trev smiled. "So I'll go order. What do you want?"

"Oh, surprise me." said Molly. "I really don't care anymore." Trev nodded and then went into their room to call the restaurant. Molly closed her eyes and leaned her head backwards, willing all the stress from the day to melt away. She exhaled, and though about Agnes. 'What a unusual woman. What did she want, really? What was she after?' Molly had this creepy crawly feeling that it was not the last she would see of Agnes. 'Well, of course. I work at the place she lives.' But something told her that tings were going to change. 'Nonsense. Ridiculous.' That feeling just would not go away...

Trevor retuned. "Something eating you?" He asked. At that moment, Molly loved Trev with all her heart. He always knew when something was up.

"I was just wondering if I have made the right choice."

"Not following you." said Trevor.

"Well. I was thinking,' Molloy paused. "Was it really the right decision, becoming a nurse at a nursing home?"

"Why should not it be the right decision? I mean, it is not my cup of tea, but that is why I am a journalist and not a nurse."

“Well, I just feel like I am wasting my skills on people who are about to die.” She closed her eyes meditatively. “I know it is horrible to say that, but that is how I feel. All of them are about an inch from death and there is nothing I or anybody else can do about it except prolong their pain. Why did I choose this?” She looked at Trevor pleadingly. “Was it all just a waste?”

Trev reached over and put an arm around her shoulder, “Look, Molly, nothing you do is a waste. Everything you do has a purpose, I am sure of it.”

“But why this? I wanted to be this great person that helped hundreds of people. I wanted to make a difference, but all I can do is sit back at the sidelines and wait.”

“Then quit if you are so unhappy. Nobody is forcing you to do this.”

“Yeah.” Molly shifted on the couch uncomfortably.

“And…?” Trevor asked.

“I don’t know. I’m just stuck right now.” Molly frowned, “I’m just not sure where I want to go.”

“You don’t have to decide straight away. I mean, you have your whole life to figure it out,” Trevor pointed out.

“Another year in that wretched nursing home and I will probably pull my hair ou-“ The doorbell rang. “Who is that?” Molly wondered.

“Probably our order from the Chinese place,” Trev yawned. “Get it please, won’t you.”

“Why don’t you get it?” she asked.”

“My legs have gone completely numb and all movement tearing me away from this extremely cozy piece of furniture is rendered impossible.”

“In other words: you are too lazy too move.” Molly shook her head and sighed dramatically, “Typical man.” The doorbell rang again.

“Coming!” She yelled, jogging towards the door.

“You are the absolute love of my life! Thank you!” Trev yelled from the couch.

Panting slightly, Molly opened the door to a man with an extremely unusual moustache who was carrying a large paper bag, from which wafted spicy and delicious smells. The man (his name tag read “Hello, my name is Joe”) handed the bag to her with a grunt. He reached into the pocket of his apron and pulled out a notepad and pen, grunting, “Sign here.” To this, he grunted an additional time.

“Oh, well, um,” Molly took the bag from Joe’s outstretched hand. Then she took the pad of paper and pen and signed while balancing the food on one knee. “Here is my signature, and oh, damn, I forgot the money. Just a sec. Sorry to keep you waiting.” For some reason, she was always inclined to feel very apologetic towards people who delivered Chinese food. Joe grunted as a reply, and she rushed over to the kitchen to pull out her wallet and extracted twenty dollars and forty seven cents from it. By the time she returned though, neither Joe nor his car was to be seen. “How peculiar,” she muttered. “He forgot the money.” she picked up the bag of food and carried it into the living room, where Trev was half asleep on the couch. “Honey?” she prompted.

“Mm Hm?” he replied.

“Honey, the delivery man just left without me paying him. Should we call the restaurant to see if he can come back to get it?” She dropped the bag on the small table.

“Nah,” Trev scoffed, “It is his own fault he left without the money. And besides, I think we deserve a free meal.”

“But-“ Molly protested, “Is that legal? I have a brother in law enforcement. What if he found out?”

Trev gave her a look. “He is your brother, Molly. I somewhat doubt he would throw us in jail for not paying a delivery man who left before we could actually pay him.

“All the same, there was something a bit weird about him. The delivery man, I mean. He had this strange moustache.”

“So? He is entitled to style his facial hair however it pleases him.’

“Just had a creepy feeling, that’s all.” Molly frowned, and then shook her head a bit. “Never mind, though, let’s eat!”

“Now you are talkin’!” Trev said enthusiastically. He tore open the brown paper bag wolfishly, eager to see the inside contents. He was not disappointed, either: there was a big box of Egg Foo Young and another box of Lo Mein Noodles. There was a box of white rice to go along with it and an order of General Sao chicken for Trevor. He grinned, “Super!”

“Well, what are you waiting for? I am starving!” The cracked open the containers of food and were about halfway finished when the doorbell rang again. “Must be the delivery guy come to collect,” Molly said with her mouth half full. “You go this time.”

“Fine, Fine,” Trevor said, lifting himself up with some effort. He shuffled over to the front door and was there for about five minutes. Molly puzzled over what could be taking him so long. Then finally, he came back carrying another bag.

“What happened?” Molly asked. “Why do you have another bag?”

“Well,” Trev began, “It is really strange. The guy came with this bag, and when I told him the food had already been delivered here, he gave me this look. He said that he had been the only guy sent out with an order for us.”
“Did you pay him?”

“Well, yeah. I paid him twenty dollars and forty seven cents, just like they told me it would cost over the phone.”

“And they didn’t ask for the payment for the other order?”

“No. Like I said, they had no clue that they had already delivered food for us.”

"Huh," Molly said, "I really don't know what to think of this. When is Andrea going to give us more interesting things to say."

"Who is this Andrea person?"

"Nobody," Molly coughed. "So, what do you think is going on?"

"Well, my stock standard, boring answer is that someone at General Lee's Chinese Palace has gotten a bit of a screw up on their hands."

"Oh, yeah, that would be the logical answer, obviously. So, what do you really think it is?"

"Oh, I do't think it is anything really."

"You lie!" She pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You definitely think that something is up!"

"No, really-"

"Are you sure? Your investigatory sixth sense must surely be tingling."

"What? No, really, I don't think anything is going on. Really. Honestly and truly."

"Are you sure?" Molly asked coyly.

"Yes! I am sure there is nothing out of the ordinary going on with our Chinese food delivery man. Why are you trying to see something in this where there is nothing to see?"

"Oh, I just guess..." Molly trailed off and looked out towards the window. "Okay, maybe I am being a bit paranoid here. But still, you didn't see that first guy, Joe whatever. His moustache was so weird."

"Why do you keep nagging on about this poor guy's moustache?"

"Well, it looked fake, almost like he was wearing one of those glue on moustaches that you buy at a joke shop or at Halloween."

"Yeah, that is kind of strange, now that you mention that."

"But, I guess I am just seeing things where there is nothing to see. Just looking for a bit of excitement."

"Well, if you want a bit of excitement, I have something to tell you."

"What is it?"

"No, no, you have to guess." Trev taunted waggling a finger at Molly.

Molly hrmphed. "Fine. We are going on a month long vacation to Majorca with all expenses paid?"

"Not exactly."

"Um, okay, we are getting a puppy."

"No! I think Moriarty would suffer from post traumatic stress disorder if we did that."

"Just a guess. Ummm, okay, ah, well...the Iraq war is over!"

"No, sorry."

"Rats. Well, I have guessed three times. Can you just tell me?"

Trevor shifted guiltily on the sofa. "You are not going to like this surprise very much."

"Oh," Molly frowned, "It is that kind of surprise. Well, might as well tell me now and get it over with."

"Okay," Trev took a deep breath. "My parents are coming over to visit for dinner on Sunday."

If Trev had dreamed that this would bring a positive reaction, he was sorely disappointed. Everyone and everything in the house went silent. The air hung heavy with disappointment and angst; Molly's jaw hung open and her eyes reflected some sort of inner panic.

"Wha- What did you say?" Trev opened his mouth to speak, but Molly covered it with a trembling hand. "No, actually don't repeat it. I know what you said. You mentioned something about you parents coming for a visit, and you mentioned something about them coming over for dinner as well. And if I recall, they do not like driving after dark, so they will probably want a place to sleep here, no?" She said these words almost trance like, in an unshakable shock. Her pure horror was almost tangible. Trevor's parents, the downright respectable Mister and Missus O'Doherty were devout Irish Catholics and in Molly's eye they were the holy terrors of this world: two gorgons who fiercly disapproved of her and all of her heathen ways. Firstly, Molly was not Catholic, she was not much of anything, really. She just knew God was there and trusted herself to make good decisions. But over all, the O'Dohertys were successful entrepreneurs who had built a very respectable slaughterhouse and butchery business. They were both very rich, very temperamental, and very big carnivores. Molly, who was a vegetarian, not that it really needs to be pointed out, was absolutely terrified.

"There is so much to do. Today is Thursday. That leaves three days, only three days. There is grocery shopping to be done, laundry to wash, carpets to clean, bathrooms to scrub...I will need to buy a new set of sheets for the spare bedroom, wait, we don't even have a spare bedroom! Oh, God, what am I going to do?"

"Whoa, calm down love. I will help too, don't stress about it." Trevor gave Molly a squeeze. "It is not the end of the world, you know."

"But they will judge me, Trev, they are going to be looking at every last little detail, right down to the last speck of frickin' dust. Oh God, please help me."

"Well, to be honest, they are both going a little blind, so I am sure they won't be that critical."

Molly glared. "This is your parents we are talking about, Trev, not the Sisters of Mercy."

"Exactly," Molly stared. Trev explained, "You know how people are always saying the sisters of mercy are basically holy terrors?"

"No, not really. I was referring to the nice Sisters of Mercy down the street who help out at the nursing home every Sunday. Oh Sunday!" molly groaned. "Your parents are coming!" She did a face to palm smack. “I can't believe you are only telling me this now!"

"Don't worry about it Molly. I know it is basically a stupid and ineffective way to get you to forget about it, but please, for my sake, stop stressing about it. I can take care of the meal preparations, if you want. I will make the meat."

"Oh, Trevor." Molly sighed, "That is very sweet of you, but I still have to think about hospitality. Cleanliness, presentation, what to wear, and there is not much you or anyone else can do about it. It is kind of a woman thing."

"Oh well, I guess I can in no way help if it is a woman thing. Jeez," Trev rolled his eyes. "You are taking this like you are planning to battle Napoleon or something."

"In some ways, I am battling against Napoleon. Your parents are worthy opponents on the battlefield," Molly said darkly. "It will take all my strategic skill to pull this one off."

"Well at least it took your mind off of the situation at work," Trev said. "Are you going to finish your Lo Mein?"

"No. I am too distraught to eat right now," Molly got up. "I am going to make a list of things to do to prepare for your parents' visit this weekend."

"All right. All the more for me, then." Trev picked up the container of noodles and devoured it hungrily. He closed his eyes and sighed. He hated putting this kind of pressure on Molly. They were not even married or engaged or anything. He just loved her too much, too much. I should really ask, he thought, I should ask if she wants to marry me. To get married. I haven't even asked her if she wants kids or anything yet, though. Maybe I should do that soon, maybe I should.

"He laid his head back and meditated upon it. I love her, I love her. He could not think about anything else. So why don't I ask her? Secretly, he had a list of reason why he couldn't ask her to marry him. It was in his journal, that he hid in a secret pocket of his briefcase that he carried to and from work. It went something like this:

-I don't have good enough prospects
-I should wait until I get a promotion
-I can't afford the ring
-She deserves better than me
-I am scared to ask

The last bullet was written quite small at the bottom of the page. He had crossed out all of the other bullets on the page, and he was down to the tiny, five words on that piece of notebook paper. Down to him and his fear of her looking him in the eye and saying "No." Trevor thought he would rather die than hear her say that. Rather not even ask her than have her say no.