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Cowardice	By : saucyminion Category: G through L > Lord of the Flies Views: 17461 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Flies, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Part 7—Help Wanted

    Ralph was taking a long, winding path home because he was in no hurry to face being alone with his self just yet. As he walked, he felt possessed by an unreal, unnatural sensation; like walking through water, wading languidly through crowds and breathing in too-thick air. His heart beat at its normal speed, but almost too purposefully, as though it was trying to tell him, “Yes, you feel fine. Yes, everything is as it should be,” and all the while it seemed to have a veiled agenda under that all too perfect beat.
    Ralph asked himself again what had happened over tea with Jack.
    They had their tea.
    They talked.
    Ralph couldn’t fool himself into believing something that simple and foolish. For a couple of moment there had been an unbearably comfortable tension between them as they spoke. What they spoke about Ralph could not even remember. The words were hardly of any importance to either of them. The handshake—that had meant something. It was soft, but not feeble. There was something spineless about a handshake what was too soft, but Jack’s was just… warm. Pleasant. Satisfying. Their conversation—whatever it had been about—may not have been pleasant, but was also satisfying. Jack’s eyes had been concerned and open, not accusative or avoidant.
    For only a moment, Ralph’s heart seemed to skip a beat, though it recovered quickly enough.
    So, what were those moments of perfect ease doing wrapped up with the tension? And now that he thought back to it, why did it strike him as odd that Jack owned a publishing company? Would he be more comfortable knowing that he might be a butcher instead? And Jack was still in therapy, or so he said. What did he need it for? Was it still about the island, or was he having other troubles? What would he tell his therapist? Things he wouldn’t tell to other people? What kinds of secrets did Jack Merridew have? Would he have secrets like Ralph’s?
    Stop right there.
    Ralph knew that it was not his place to start answering all of these questions—any of these questions. Perhaps it was nobody’s place to answer them. Ralph would never be able to find out just exactly what sort of connection they had shared in that room, or if they were friends now, or why he wanted to see Jack again. If there was some sort of relationship between the two of them, there was absolutely no word for it yet. Maybe, though, it was best to let it all be. Leave it behind. Jack could and would remain a mystery, even if he was by far the most—
    Ralph’s feet and thoughts came to a halt in front of a shop window, posted in which was a tidy, small sign that read, “HELP WANTED.”
    “I know how you feel,” he almost said to the sign before ducking into the bookshop to find an application. He briefly considered how lucky the store was to have such a powerful little sign. If the store needed help, it put up a “help wanted” sign, and help would come. Ralph was never quite so lucky.
    In a couple of minutes a woman appeared who looked like every librarian Ralph had ever seen. She gave him an application and took it back wordlessly after he had spent some time filling it out, skimmed it over through her spectacles, and then told him to come back the next day for further information.
    As Ralph was leaving, trying to envision himself working in a bookstore having read very few books in his time, something very odd happened. Just as he opened the door, someone on the outside was opening it as well, and that, of course, was Jack.
    For a couple of seconds, or maybe longer, they stood in the doorway standing face to face. Ralph’s mind was a blank. He finally realized that he needed to move for Jack to get in, and that he had probably come to look at books and not at Ralph. Standing to the side and unblocking the door, Ralph allowed Jack to move past him.
    He tried not to notice the gooseflesh that rose on his forearm when Jack’s wrist brushed his.
    Jack seemed a little struck and could not take his eyes off of Ralph, which put Ralph at ease knowing that he was not the only one caught off guard.
    Ralph let the door fall shut and stayed inside the shop.
    “Fancy seeing you here,” Jack said, finally, offering a shy smile after a couple of seconds. “I manage this store.”
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