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“Don’t you agree?” Her tone is too innocent.
“It would be a shame to disagree.”
Her lips twitch upward. “A true businessman answer. Something my husband might give. You’re telling me what I want to hear without throwing in a real opinion.”
Told you.
The perceptive, cunning ones are the best at being overlooked.
“It is a skill learned.”
“And what about our sons?”
“What about them?”
That pendant is moving again, swinging in her hold. I begin to wonder if it’s some sort of nervous tic.
“Surely you can’t tell me you don’t have regrets.Wishedfor something different. To do better, have more opportunities?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, confused about what she’s getting at.
“Isn’t that our job? Set them up for a future better than our own? Allow them the chances, the opportunities, we never got?”
A knot catches in my throat. “Our children are already set up with every possible advantage. Hardin has benefited us all. What more is there?”
Camellia’s eyes widen with a startling speed. “They’re trapped.”
“How so?”
“It’s a cycle, don’t you understand?” I don’t but I let her continue uninterrupted anyway. “You and my husband are equal partners, and one day our sons will be locked into this same transaction.”
I snort out of my own self-righteousness. “There are far worse things out there,” disagreeing completely.
Her stare goes distant then, and she completely looks through me like I’m no longer human. I don’t understand where I miscalculated. Misspoke.
Camellia wants to say something, I can see it but it’s like the words get stuck on her tongue. Cemented in her own perplexion.
“Are you feeling alright, Camellia?”
I don’t understand this—I’d say meeting, but I don’t believe that’s the case anymore—interaction at all.
Blinking she comes back but it’s as slow as the muscles in her cheeks as they morph into a twisted grin. The action is strange like she’s had a sudden sense of clarity. That thing in her brain clicking together as those imaginary dots line up.
“You should be more involved,” she notes staring me down. Suddenly persistent. “With your daughter, I mean. We only have a limited amount of time with them as is.”
That’s true, but why does she make that sound so cryptic?
“Here,” she says with gusto. Reaching behind her neck and unclasping the chain. “Give her this. As a gift.”
I glance down with interest at the crescent moon pendant in my palm. Seconds ago, it had been around my colleague’s wife’s neck, now it’s mine?
“Give it to her, as a favor. For me?”
Why does she sound so eager all of a sudden? Persistent, even.
“The relationship between a father and son is important. Yes, but a relationship between father and daughter is special. Go.” She emphasizes, “Reach out.”
She knows.
