“Dad.”
“A fool, I tell ya. He’s wasting good money. Those two little she-devils will be divorced in three months.”
“I don’t think so, Granddad. They’ve been together going on ten or eleven years.”
“That doesn’t mean shit. Tell Daisy not to sign a prenup. She can mix a little of that new money with the old money.” We laughed, he elbowed me good-naturedly, and then we were back to square one. “Who are you?”
“A visitor,” I answered, not wanting to go through the whole rigmarole again.
“Go visit another bench. Get outta here.”
I should’ve hugged him and told him I loved him when I had the chance.
“Take care, Mr. Baker.”
He grunted and went back to staring into space. I left him and passed the care worker, who was too busy trying to corral an on-the-move resident who was becoming aggressive and combative to pay attention to my visit with Granddad.
“Have a good one, Kiyah. I hope to see you soon,” Ms. Marley said as I approached the exit.
“I’ll be back soon.”
“I won’t hold my breath,” the woman grumbled. “By the way, Ms. Felicity paged. She’s waiting for your arrival in the ladies’ lounge. Please don’t keep her waiting, or she’ll have my phone ringing off the hook.”
“I’m headed straight there—no stops,” I confirmed.
* * *
“Shit. I’m lost,” a man mumbled as I neared the lounge where the women had deemed no men allowed so they could gossip and jaw-jack in peace. He glanced around the hall, obviously looking for the appropriate corridor as he juggled a toddler, an open backpack on one arm, and a map of the facility in the other hand. “Okay, calm down, Pete,” he urged as the child wriggled in his arm, wanting to be put down. The frustrated father groaned when the backpack fell, spilling the contents on the ground. Irushed over to help when he attempted to squat down and pick up the items.
“I got it. I got it,” I said, squatting to shove the pull-ups, wipes, sippy cup, and assorted toys into the bag.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I do according to the Laws of Southern Hospitality.”
“I’m curious to hear what those are.”
“Rule number one,” I said, zipping up the backpack and standing to my feet. “Help those in need. Is it your first time here?” I asked, shouldering the backpack.
“That obvious?” he replied, chuckling while still trying to get control of the wiggle worm in his arms.
“You look like a tourist in Times Square.”
“Ouch,” he said, briefly looking apologetic.
“Don’t be embarrassed. It takes a while to learn the ins and outs of this place.”
“It’s certainly massive. I’m Todd, by the way,” he said, sticking his free hand out for me to shake.
“Kiyah,” I said, accepting his hand.
He smiled warmly, and as I stared into his eyes, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d met him before. Todd had wavy blonde hair, striking hazel eyes, a straight nose, and a practiced smile that sported perfect white teeth. He dressed like all the men in my family—smart casual, even on their days off. My eyes ticked down to his watch, and I nearly whistled. Granddad always said you could tell a lot about a man from his watch, and the Hublot Classic Fusion on his wrist told me that:
A: He comes from money because wearing an $80,000.00 watch on a Tuesday with a toddler is insane.
B: He doesn’t mind going against the grain. While Hublot is a luxury Swiss watchmaker, many would compare the brand to Rolex but still choose Rolex over Hublot.
C: The watch is in pristine condition. I wouldn’t be surprised if he polished it before slipping it on his wrist this morning. He takes meticulous care of his belongings, which most likely extends to every aspect of his life—home, work, family, and friends.