The Way Home
Chapter 5

Copyright© 2019 by barbar

(snap) (thunk) It feels early. I start to look at my watch. Do I have time for another file? I stop myself. I remember the man on the bench. Why not? Three files into the briefcase. (click-click).

Check reflection in window. Straighten tie. Pull door closed. (snick)

“Good night Molly. Have a good evening. Say hello to George for me.”

I stroll casually past Molly.

Molly doesn’t answer. She stares at me in surprise. I feel calm and relaxed. I miss her melodic voice.

(traffic) (voices) (birds)

Benito is there on the park bench. Next to him a small girl sits and chatters away at him. She is seven, maybe eight, years old. The girl wears a pink jacket and pale blue jeans with brightly-coloured flowers embroidered up one leg. Benito is back in his grey suit, but this time with a pale yellow tie. The family resemblance between the girl and Benito is noticeable. The girl has the same stocky build, the same slight colouration to her skin, the same black, curly hair – though her hair is not cut short but flows down her back in waves.

I walk up to them and stop. Benito stops the endless stream of chatter from the girl with a wave of his hand.

He turns his face toward me.

“Edward Richardson?”

“I’m here.”

“Edward, I would like you to meet one of my children, Gianna. Gianna, this is Mr Edward Richardson.”

The girl jumps up from the bench and holds out a hand.

“How do you do, sir.”

I shake her hand – pleased to hear such courtesy from a child.

“I’m very well, thank you Gianna. I’m pleased to meet you.”

Her hand feels tiny and delicate in mine. A little shiver runs through me. A memory that I’d rather not have nudges at the edges of my mind. I push it away and concentrate on the two people in front of me.

“Gianna is with me all day today. She has most generously offered to look after me and make sure I don’t get lost. But if you have time, I would love to continue our little chat.”

“I would like that, too.”

“Gianna, why don’t you go sit on the grass and read a book. I assume, Edward, that Memorial Park has grass suitable for sitting on?”

“There is a great deal of grass, Benito, but sadly it is wet. I’m not sure it would be a good idea for Gianna to sit on it.”

“The grass is wet? Has it been raining?”

“Not recently. Maybe this morning. The path is mostly dry,”

“Well then, we can’t have you sitting on wet grass now, can we Gianna?”

The girl looks from her father to me and then out at the park then back to me. She seems confused about something.

“She can stay on the bench. There is plenty of room for three.”

 
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