Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
"Well, shall we read, or write, or…" I lean forward and whisper. "I don't really know how this works. This is my first time."
"I know. I've never seen you here before." He leans back. "You are Skye's boss?"
"That, I am."
"I hope you're treating her well."
"Of course, I—"
"She's more than just an employee, huh?"
"I don't really know what you mean."
"I see the way you two are looking at each other, way more than a boss-employee relationship. Don't worry. Back in the day, I had a little thing with a secretary." He winks at me.
"Oh, your secretary?" I'm surprised. If he had a job where he had a secretary, why was he at a literacy organization?
"I know what you're thinking. What's this schmuck doing here if he was an executive in a Fortune 500 company, right?
Well, I wasn't an executive. I was the mailman.
And the secretary wasn't mine, but we had a little thing.
It was fun." He grins. "Don't ask how I delivered the mail if I didn't really know who I was delivering it to, but I got lucky.
I had another female friend who would put stamps on all the envelopes so I knew if it was going to zone A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, all the way through M.
Each office had the letter on it so I knew which one was which.
" He grins. "Did that job for twenty years. "
"Sounds amazing," I say.
"Well, it's not like I don't know how to read and write completely. I never graduated high school, and I figured I got some grandkids who are struggling and I want to show them that granddaddy can do it too."
"That sounds great," I say.
"Yeah." He rubs his forehead. "I always used to say, who needs book smarts if you got street smarts?
Because I got plenty street smarts. But these kids these days, they don't got so much street smarts.
Some of my grandkids, they ain't got no common sense, so they're going to need some book smarts. You know what I'm saying?"
I nod slowly. "I think so."
"So what, you're an attorney?"
"Yes, sir."
"You went law school then, huh?"
"Yes, sir."
Well, you never know. You don't always need to go to law school to be an attorney."
"Most of us go to law school."
"Not that guy in that show." I stare at him for a couple of seconds, puzzled. "You know, Suits, that one with that Harvey Specter guy."
"Oh, I've heard of it. I've never really watched it. Too much time actually studying the law to watch shows about it."
He says, "You want me to read to you or something?"
"Sure, if that's what you normally do."
"Skye had me reading this book by Charles Dickens. You know him? He wrote that all-of-a-twist book and that Christmas book. What's it called again? Hey, Skye," he says loudly.
"Yes?" she says, turning around with a ghost of a smile at the corner of her lips.
"What's that Christmas book by Charles Dickens that you wanted us to read last Christmas?"
"A Christmas Carol," she says, grinning. "With Ebenezer Scrooge."
"Ah, yeah. That was it. Bah humbug," he says, and Skye giggles.
"You see, you remember that."
"I guess I do. Well, there's another one called A Tale of Two Cities. Skye says it’s good, so I figured maybe I could start with that."
"Sure," I say. "I didn't realize you liked Charles Dickens so much," I say, looking over at Skye.
"I do, but I guess you also have to remember you don't know everything about me."
"I know I don't," I respond. "But maybe I want to."
"Oh, Lord. Are you two flirting right here in front of me? Can I at least read my pages first?" Bobby says, and I start laughing.
"Come on. Where's the book?" I lean back, wait for him to grab the book, and start reading.
He's not an awful reader, at least. There are some words he trips over, and I try to be patient as I sound out the words for him and wait for him to repeat them.
He reads two pages and then blinks as he looks up at me.
"I'm slow, aren't I? Are you looking at me thinking, how does this old man not know how to—"
"I'm impressed," I say. "Not many people would try to learn to read so late in life."
"Were you going to say old?" he says, chuckling. "Are you calling me an old man?"
"Not at all, sir. You'll be an old man soon enough, though."
"You got kids?"
"No," I say. I try not to shudder and show my distaste. Kids are sticky and loud and are not in my immediate future. Whatsoever.
"Well, I'm hoping you're not married, seeing as you and my Skye are doing whatever you're doing." I nod at him for a couple of seconds.
"I'm not married, don't worry."
"Good, good. Are you thinking of getting married?" He lowers his voice then. "Are you in love with Skye?" I stare at him for a couple of seconds and frown. "You don't want to answer the question."
"This is just all very new with Skye and myself," I say. I don't want to tell him that we're in a situationship because I don't even really understand what the situationship is or how it's really going to work out long term, considering that I already want to change the rules of the situationship.
"I know you like her," he says. "You can't deny that. I see the way you smile when she talks. I see the way you look at her." He grins. "That's the way I used to look at my old woman. She's been dead now ten years."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"It's okay. I miss her every day. Can't lie, don't miss the nagging though.
Put the toilet seat down, do the dishes every single day, ten times a day.
I used to tell her, ‘Get off my case, woman.’ She would say, ‘I'd get off your case if you would do it,’ and then we'd bicker back and forth, and she'd tell me to sleep on the couch, but I'd always crawl back into the bed and…
well, we'd have that makeup sex, and it would be all worth it in the end.
" He grins. "Miss her, I do. Sometimes, I think about getting another, but what am I going to do at my age with another woman?
I ain't really got much to offer. I got my kids and my grandkids, but what woman wants to take them on?
If I'm being true to myself, I still love my wife.
Could I really tell another woman that I loved her?
I've only told one woman my entire life I loved her. What about you?"
"What about me what?" I ask him, wondering if I should be getting back to the task of reading or continuing to have this personal conversation.
"How many women have you told you love them?"
"I’ve told my mother that I love her, and she's a woman."
"I would think she's a woman," he says. "She gave birth to you, didn't she?"
"Well, yes. She did."
"How many romantic women have you told that you love them?"
"To be quite honest, I have never told any women that I love them," I say softly, not wanting Skye to hear.
"You've never told a woman you love her?" His eyes are narrowed now. "This, I find hard to believe. How old are you, pushing fifty?" I stare at him, and he bursts out laughing. "Just joking. I know you're not fifty. I would not let a fifty-year-old man be with my Skye."
"Okay. Yeah. Well, I'm in my thirties."
"So you like her?" he asks again. I look over to make sure Skye isn't listening to the conversation and lean forward.
"I do like her. I think she's very special, and—"
"Don't tell me it's complicated," he says.
"It's never as complicated as people like to say it is.
You either like her, or you don't. You either want her in your life, or you don't. You either want a commitment with her, or you don't. Let me just say this because I can tell that you respect her and you care about her feelings, right? "
"I do." I nod.
"Don't play around with her. If she's not the one for you, if she's not someone you can seriously see making your wife, let her go. She's got a tender heart. She's a good woman, and she deserves a good man." I stare at him for a couple of seconds.
"I'm not making her do anything she doesn't want to do."
"You're a good-looking guy. You're her boss.
I can see that she likes you," he says. "Women, sometimes they have hope that things are going to change.
I'm not saying that she has hope that things are going to change, but you know what I mean.
" I nod silently. "So think about it. You like her, and you stay with her, and you try and see if you can make this thing work, or you like her, and you let her go and let her find the right man for her.
That's the least you can do. I'm saying this because she's like a granddaughter to me.
I love her. She's been coming here for years.
She dedicates every Saturday, and sometimes during the week when she's not working, to come in and read with us.
She's a good one. If I was fifty years younger, I'd give it a shot.
" He bursts out laughing. "Though I don't know that my wife would've liked that. "
"I don't know that she would've liked that either," I say, laughing, and he nods.
"Back to the book."
"Let's do it," I say, giving him a pat on his shoulder.