Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 70429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“Um, that was an interesting exchange.”
They looked at each other for a moment, then both burst out laughing.
“Young man, these girls in here get hired right outta high school and bring their untrained behinds in here, treating us like shit. It happens every time. Soon as a good-lookin’ doctor walks in, a salesman, repair guy, they be all over him. Hot to trot.” He shook his head in disgust. “Sex, sex, sex… that’s all they think about.”
“Are you jealous? Wish they were hitting on you instead?”
“Hell yeah I’m jealous, and of course I do!”
They started cracking up all over again.
“Thank you for seeing me. I know it’s been many, many years, but I am deeply sorry for the loss of your wife. I vaguely remember seeing you at the funeral, but I was a teenager back when she passed away, and in my own world that day… hurtin’ and upset. I’m not bein’ dramatic when I tell you it was one of the worst days of my life when I found out she was dyin’, and then soon after, she passed away.”
“Mmmm hmmm. Millicent was one of a kind.”
Caspian nodded in agreement.
“Do you know for the longest, I thought her first name was Florence? I had no idea it wasn’t until at her funeral when I read the obituary.” They had a good laugh at that. “I’m a journalist, and I owe that in part to her. I’ve been workin’ on a story about the impact of teachers on children’s lives in fact, so I thought about coming over to interview you, get to know about her not only as a teacher, but as an individual.”
“…Okay. I see.” He coughed into a napkin he’d pulled out of his jacket pocket, then placed it back.
“How long have you been living here?”
“I’ve been here for ’bout two years. Nobody can take care of me. Most of my living family live in Tennessee, where I was born. Many are now dead. I got a bad heart.” The old man touched his chest. “Illness is a strange thing. It can hide then show up at the wrong times.”
“No time is a good time for illness, is it?” Caspian questioned as he leaned forward, tapping on the old man’s hand.
“I ’spose you’re right. Do you know she didn’t even tell me about the cancer she had ’til it was no use in hidin’ it anymore? She didn’t like folks worryin’ about ’er. Not even her own husband. Millicent hated bein’ fussed over.”
“None of us at school knew she was sick, either.”
They drew quiet for a bit.
“Did she ever bring me up? I am not askin’ for egotistical reasons. Just trying to see if you have any background story to my and your wife’s relationship.”
“She told me ’bout her students all the time. She told me about some special students she had, too. I don’t remember the names—too many names crossed her lips for me to remember—but it was many of y’all. She did talk about three boys in particular on a daily basis the year before she passed away. One of ’em, she said, his, uh, mama died when he was a wee lil boy. Suicide, I think. Like I said, I ain’t the best with names, but I do remember details mighty well. Another one, she said somethin’ like…” He seemed to drift away within himself for a bit. “She said he hated his daddy… and he fought all the time.
“Said he was full of anger, but nobody would know it ’cause he hid it good. Another one, she said had big trust issues and was always tryna prove how big ’nd bad he was. She said he was real violent, too. Some half Hispanic boy. Skinny kid but could kick some ass. A good fighter. She said these three boys were talented and smart. The kind of intelligence you don’t see every day. That’s what sparked her interest. She said they was best friends, too… like they were meant to be together. Was you one of them boys?”
Caspian removed his phone from his jacket pocket, turned on his recording app, and set it on the table between them. He then pushed the REC button.
“Yes. I’m the one with the dead mama… suicide.”
The old man leaned over, this time tapping his hand.
“It’s pretty impressive that you remembered all of that, Mr. Florence, after all of these years. I mean, Mrs. Florence must’ve had hundreds of students, talked about them with you over dinner, so for you to recall those details is almost—”
“Y’all was important to her. Besides, she told me one day one of y’all might come and see me after she was gone, especially the one wit’ the mama that committed suicide. Somethin’ about a promise. She was funny like that. Could predict the weather, and ways of people. She understood human nature.” The room drew suddenly colder. “Anyway, I’m old but not senile. I wouldn’t even be here if I didn’t need someone to help me in case my heart gives out. My mind is just fine.” He tapped the side of his head. “So when you called the other day, I knew who you were but wasn’t sure which of the magic three you’d be. Then I got to thinking, and what she said to me came floodin’ back. The Brother Disciples, she called y’all. All of her students were important to her, just like I said, but y’all were special to her. Real special.”