The Hand Shake

“Mr. Jenkins, I’d like’ya to meet my wife, Janet.”

My boss of two weeks stepped from the doorway onto our freshly vacuumed living-room rug. The little room smelled of Windex and Lemon Pledge. Janet rose smiling from the couch. She put her hand out then jerked it back just as Mr. Jenkins was extending his own.

I wanted to say something witty at that moment, but nothing came to mind.

Janet, upon seeing Mr. Jenkins offering to shake hands decided that it was only proper to now re-offer her hand, choosing this precise moment—as Mr. Jenkins took his hand back-- and out popped her hand again, shaking on its own. I watched to see if she could manage to leave it there a bit longer this time.

Mr. Jenkins leaned forward again. I watched his arm reaching out, his white shirtsleeve extending from his tailored suit-coat, his silver cufflinks gleaming in the slanted light from the sparkling clean window. They shook hands quickly, and afterwards, I found myself a bit light-headed.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” my wife said.

“Yours too,” Mr. Jenkins said.

“It was sweet of you to give Joe a life… a lift!” she corrected. Her face was now turning a rosy shade of purple.

Mr. Jenkins wished me luck in getting my car fixed and was gone. I closed the door and turned to Janet.

“Stop looking at me!”she said. “Ladies are not required to shake hands. I read it in Proper Etiquette!”

“‘It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance?’”

“It’s in the book! I read the whole damn thing after you warned me about him! Can’t lose this job, Joey…”

“I won’t, honey. Just…hey!” I held her close in my arms and lifted her chin, "Lose the book, would’ja?”

--300 Words—