Page 41 of Check Me Out

Joe squints at him, trying to make sense of this place. Then an impulse hits, and before he can stop himself, he asks, “Are you due for a break soon?”

Han’s shoulders slump slightly. “Ah. I’m bugging you. Sorry. I’ll—”

“No!” Joe goes on, more quietly, “I just sort of hoped you could join me while I eat. It’s stupid. Never mind.”

He steels himself for a polite rejection.

But Han beams. “Really? It’s okay?”

“Very okay.”

“What can I make for you?”

Joe is in no condition to make a decision like that. “How about whatever you’re in the mood for? I’m not picky.”

This seems to delight Han, who quickly prepares some french fries—Joe hadn’t even noticed the fryer—and ladles out two bowls of pho.

Joe cradles the warm bowl in his palms and inhales deeply. “This isn’t what I’d expect from a supermarket food stand. My usual place has a deli with just sandwiches and sushi.”

“We cater to all tastes here.”

Sitting nearby like this, Han is even more handsome. He’s also more… human. Which is sort of a crappy way for Joe to think about things, but he’s been lost in his head since he arrived, and he hasn’t considered Han as much more than a cute, helpful employee. Now, though, Joe can discern the scant threads of silver working their way through the strands of soft gold, the hints of green surrounding the warm amber irises, the tiny lines of almost-tension at the corners of the full lips.

“Have you worked here for a long time?” Joe asks.

Han looks both surprised at the question and, for some reason, amused. “Years.”

“I hope you have good bosses. And that the customers are pleasant.”

“The bosses are good. Some customers are pleasant. Some not so much, but it’s not their fault. They’re experiencing terrible things, and….”

“No excuse to take it out on people who are just trying to do their job,” Joe insists. But Han looks uncomfortable, so Joe changes tack. “Are you named after theMillennium Falconpilot?”

Han glances down at his name tag as if he’s forgotten what it says and chuckles. “No, it’s short for Haniel. Which is traditionally considered a feminine name, but it’s who I am. And I like it.”

“Me too,” Joe says honestly. “My name’s boring. Joe Becker.” The kind of name that made little impression on anyone and was easily forgotten. Much like Joe himself, he sometimes laments.

But Han leans forward and points his spoon at Joe. “There’s nothing boring about you.”

Oh, Joe begs to differ. He snorts and then snags a couple of fries, still hot. He and Han sit for several minutes, eating and enjoying the companionship, and it’s the nicest interlude Joe can remember in a long time. Work has been stressful lately, and he hasn’t been able to find time to hang out with friends. Or, well, cultivate friendships. Even when he has an evening free, he’s so drained by the time he gets home that he can’t do anything except melt into the couch. And on his rare evenings out, he’s shitty company. It’s been ages since he’s gone on a date, and even longer since he’s had a second date.

Not that this is a date. Han is simply taking a work break. Maybe he even feels sorry for Joe. If so, fine. Joe will take pity if that’s what he’s given. He has a vague sense that peopleshouldfeel sorry for him, although he can’t say exactly why. His life might not be what he’d dreamed about as a kid, but he has it way better than most folks.

“Are you from here?” Joe asks, knowing it sounds like a cheesy pickup line.

“Nobody’s from here.”

Oh, it’s one of those cities. But Joe can’t seem to remember which city it is, and this troubles him faintly. Something is off about the entire situation, yet when he tries to pinpoint the problem, his mind skitters away like a frightened mouse. Jet lag, yes, and an extra-huge dose of exhaustion.

“I got zero sleep last night,” he explains, aware of the non sequitur. “The couple in the apartment above me were fighting again. They can go at it for hours. I’ve tried talking to them the next day, but then they just scream at me instead. The propertymanagers won’t do anything. Once I even called the cops, but they won’t come out unless someone is being physically threatened.”

“That must be frustrating.”

Joe nods. “I had to get up early, you know? I knew I was going to be a zombie.”

Han looks uncomfortable at this and plumbs his soup bowl with his spoon. He probably doesn’t want to listen to Joe complaining. But Joe can’t seem to get the upstairs couple out of his head.

“I don’t understand staying with someone if you make each other so miserable,” Joe says. “My ex and I, we went our separate ways when it became clear we weren’t happy together.” He says it lightly, as if the pain doesn’t linger. It had been a mutual decision, and he remains convinced that it was the right one, but it hurts nonetheless.

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