“Oh, no, I do remember,” I say.
“Sad about your parents. So wrong.”
Charlie starts to shuffle his feet. He’s getting impatient.
“And Charles,” she says when her eyes are drawn by his movements. “What a tragedy.”
Tragedies are not on my topic list for the day. This morning’s meeting with Christopher already made me feel guilty enough. “Nice running into you.”
“I suppose Charles would’ve taken over the business if not for the accident. He was always a big chunk of a boy, all muscles and the tallest of his class. Do you think he would’ve become the big boss, maybe run the mafia?”
I glance around to see if we’re being overheard and keep my voice low. “I’m glad he’s not part of that criminal lifestyle.”
“Criminal or not, at least you wouldn’t have ended up as poor as church mice. Are you still in Berea?”
“We moved.”
“Where to?”
“I really have to go.”
Bony fingers close around my left hand. Before I can pull back, she lifts my ring finger to the light.
“Will you look at that?” She gives a hen-like cackle. “From the size of this rock it’s not Lambert Roos’ ring.” She studies the ring, turning my hand left and right.
Self-consciously, I pull away.
“Lambert didn’t have a choice, you know. He wanted to marry you. He wasn’t all bad, back then.” She sniffs. “A bit lazy, but not all bad. Everything was set up for your engagement the day you’d turn eighteen, and the next thing you know, the Portuguese break down their door and threaten to kill everyone if they take you in. Said it would be a war between the Jewish and Portuguese. Just like that, they cut you loose. I think the payoff also had a lot to do with it.”
“What?” I forget about Charlie’s fretting and my irritation. “Why?”
“Don’t know. Probably money. Money’s always the motivation in the business, isn’t it?”
I stare at her open-mouthed. My father was part of the Jewish mob, but they had an agreement with the Portuguese in the south.
“Anyways,” she waves a hand, “all water under the bridge. That life is gone. Not many of the old gang is left.” Her eyes take on a far-off look.
“I–I’m sorry. I have to go.” Grabbing Charlie’s arm, I drag him along the walkway.
“Wait! You haven’t told me who you married.”
Not wanting to listen to more, I rush head-on into a flow of pedestrians. Scratching open the old wounds of how my father died was too painful. I do my best to shake her words as I sip a fruit juice while Charlie gobbles down a banana split with all the trimmings. While we are in the café, Kris calls, asking how I am, and somewhat manages to distract me from my guilt trip.
“I need help at the practice,” she says. “Can you come back?”
I owe her. “I’ll be happy to. Can I bring Charlie?”
“I was hoping you’d offer. He did a great job walking the dogs.”
We agree that I’d start next week on my old salary. I don’t need the money––Gabriel transferred a ridiculously big amount to my account––but spending his money doesn’t feel right. I should earn my own.
“Come over for lunch tomorrow,” she says. “We’ll talk about the logistics.”
After our dessert, we hit the shops. I want to get Gabriel something for his birthday. We haven’t spoken about it, but the big party, the one where I was supposed to work, took place while I was in Durban. It’s pathetic, but I care. I can help it as little as I can help how he makes me feel with his touch. Even as I crave my freedom, to be allowed to make choices like any other human being, I meant it when I said I love him. I lied when I said I hate him more. My love for him has quietly blossomed inside of me, growing from the tiny kernel he planted. By the time I noticed the tree it was too late. It hurt when he told me I didn’t mean it. Maybe that was why I retaliated by saying I hate him, and the fact that those hurtful words didn’t have any effect on him wounded me even worse. Yet, always true to his word, he’s making this good for me, and this is the happiest I’ve been in a very long time, since that tragic day on the thirteenth of February. Giving him something for his birthday is my way of showing appreciation. The only problem is that I have no idea what to get him. Gabriel has everything.
We walk around the mall until Charlie gets tired, and I have to make a decision. Coming to a stop in front of a bookstore, an idea hits me. It doesn’t take long to find the book I’m looking for. I pay and have it wrapped. Forty minutes later, we’re home.