Emma had finished her coffee, and had progressed to her third cup. She was still disturbed at Paul’s knowledge about Ben, and now Katie, but was determined to check out his story by asking Gloria. She heard her phone buzz, and began going through some messages that she’d ignored during her time with Paul. Her head was down, and she was lost for a while when she heard that familiar voice coming from the big man standing next to her table. She froze when she looked up to see Mickey.
He sighed, “You remind me of Ben when I first met him, always so guarded around me. You know, he didn’t like me or worse, trust me. I think his religion, or lack of it, maybe made it hard to accept me.” He took the chair across from her. “Do you mind if I sit?”
“I saw you die, and then I saw your wife die. Then when I described you to Gloria, she told me that your name is Mickey, and you were close to my father.” She rubbed her forehead. “But of course, that can’t be, can it? Because, Mickey, you seem to be the same age as you were many ago. I guess we need to start with your name. Who are you?”
The old man smiled, and his face was filled with kindness. There was a familiar sense of compassion that he was sending to her. “Mickey, my name is Mickey. And I held you in my arms when you were a small baby. When I left your father, I said that I would look after you, that if you ever felt any type of fear, to think of me, and I would help you. You see, Emma? I love you. You were such a tiny little thing then.” He reached out to take her hand, but she jerked it back before he could touch her.
“First of all, my dad’s name is Jimmy. I understand that you say you knew my birth father, but that was a long time ago. It’s Jimmy who I see as my dad. He is the man who raised me, and has loved me more than some think possible. And the same goes for my mom. It seems like Ben and Katie have monopolized the conversations lately, but they didn’t raise me. So, I would kindly ask you to refer to Jimmy and Mori as my mom and dad. Now, if you are who you say you are, then according to Gloria, you’re over one hundred years old. How do you explain that?” Emma felt somewhat bold in the middle of the people-clad coffee shop.
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