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“Are you sure the doctor is okay with you smoking these?”
His grandfather was right beside him.
“No, he is not. But what is the cigar going to do? Kill me?” He laughed for a few seconds and then coughed.
Benjamin stared at his grandfather in deep admiration. He truly was an amazing man.
“Grandpa,” he said after they’d left the library and slowly made their way down the hallway to the gardens. His grandfather looked at him.
"I’m not only acting responsible because you’re going to die. It will hurt me, you know."
A smile lit up the old man’s face, but he didn’t say anything in return.
They stepped out into the cloudy day. It had stopped raining, but the air was still filled with the smell of the earlier storm. Both of their eyes strayed to the white marble sculptures at the entrance of the garden. His eyes landed on his favorite, a young woman holding a baby. As if passing beyond some portal of silence, his grandfather asked in a low and steady voice:
"Did I ever tell you the story behind that sculpture?"
They walked toward it. His grandfather had told him about that sculpture so many times and every single time Ben let him tell the story again as if he had never heard it before.
"I'd like to hear it again."
His grandfather nodded, smiling wryly.
"Would have told you anyway."
They both chuckled.
"Your grandmother," he narrated, now tenderly rubbing the surface of the sculpture, his eyes dull and sad, "she always had a thing for art. At first, I didn’t understand her love for it. My mind works in numbers, not colors and music. So, when I first saw this sculpture in the garden for the first time, I frowned. I mean, it is pretty and all, but I saw nothing more than that. A pretty piece of rock. Your grandmother wouldn’t have it. The next day, she demanded I go with her to meet the artist. I thought her mad, but I loved her dearly, so I did it anyways. We drove several hours into the countryside, some small town in Pennsylvania that was struggling with poverty. Grandam told the driver to stop right in front of the artist’s house but she did not get out of the car. ‘Watch’ was all she said. I turned to observe the artist in his garden hammering away on another sculpture. But I didn’t see what she wanted me to see. I was about to confess that I just don’t understand art the way she does, when right there and then, an immaculate copy of the sculpture strode out of the small house holding a baby. And before I could even say a word, eight children dressed in rags came running after her. It was one of the most amazing moments of my life. Your grandmother said only one thing to me before she told the diver to return home. And do you know what that was?”
Ben grinned wide, “I love the people behind the art, not the art itself?”
His grandfather crossed his arms.
“Are you telling the story or I?”
They both laughed.
“I would have fallen for your grandmother all over again if she wasn’t already the love of my life.”
Ben frowned. Love. He had heard about the deep love and bond between his grandparents countless times, but what did he know about love? He stared up at those eyes of the sculpture; sad, beautiful and full of love.Would he ever find love or die alone?
Walking away from the sculpture and in the back of the garden, his grandfather looked up and cleared his throat. “Do you know what scares me more than death itself?"
"No, sir."
"When you've come as far as I have, dying won't exactly hurt you as much as you think. I've lived a full life. I've made mistakes and learnt from them; built an empire. But…" His eyes met Benjamin’s.
"But what, Grandpa?"
The old man blinked and wrinkled his forehead. They walked past the garage where a number of exquisite cars were parked; Rolls Royces, Mercedes, and more.
Benjamin quickly noticed how his grandfather's eyes settled on the brand-new Lamborghini...hisyellow Lamborghini. Ben felt restless, a bit uncomfortable. At least until they walked on, following the marble-tiled ground leading them to the grand backyard.
"I'm scared for you, Benjamin," hisgrandfather finally said.
"What? Why?” Ben’s brows shot up high. “I work hard, and the company is already profiting highly under me.”
"I’m not saying you are not doing well with the business,” he sighed. “You have a kind heart, just like your father, but I am worried about you… your happiness. I just want you to be happy. Truly happy.”
