The woman running the habitat approaches us, armed with sugar water sticks and a warm smile. “You two having a good time?”
“We are,” I reply, answering for us both. I know I’m having fun, and if Sam’s goofy grin is anything to go by, he’s having an okay time, as well.
Her smile deepens, her gaze shifting between the two of us. “I bet you always have fun together.”
“We barely know each other.”
“That doesn’t matter. Your souls have known each other for a long time, and the chemistry is powerful. You can’t force chemistry. It’s either there, or it isn’t. Enjoy yourselves.”
And with those words, she walks off, leaving me to flush the color of a lobster.
Glancing up at Sam, I note the curious expression on his face. Thankfully, it’s not screwed up in disgust. “What the hell was that about?”
He shrugs as we walk toward the door. “Chemistry and soul connection? Who knows? She’d likely fit right into our philosophical debates.”
“I’ll invite her the next time.”
I figured Sam would make a beeline for the hotel after that woman’s strange observation, but he seems content to stroll the gardens by my side. It’s a beautiful day in Manhattan, and the city is showing off her myriad of colors.
“I told my grandfather about you.”
My brow furrows. Odd. “What about me?”
“How much you remind me of him.”
“I’m going to develop a complex, Sam, that I resemble a seventy-five-year-old man.”
“Seventy-eight, actually. He wants us to call him.”
“Us? He wants to speak to me?” This conversation has taken a turn into strange territory indeed.
Sam nods, pulling out his phone. “What do you say? Cheer up a lonely old man?”
“How can I deny that request?” It’s true, I can’t. Besides, I’ll admit I’m curious to speak with his grandfather. Per Sam, the man is a treasure trove of stories and, as a wordsmith, that piques every facet of my curiosity.
Thirty minutes later, our conversation ends, and I’m grinning from ear to ear after my recent chat. Sam’s Granddad, Curtis, is an absolute riot. The man’s physical health might be failing, but his wit is spot on.
Poor Sam, I think we forgot he was there for a while, as we chattered on like two old biddies about his days during the war and his travels through the Far East.
Plus, my newfound friend even extended an invitation for me to call him again, so that he might tell me more about his glory days.
“He’s amazing, Sam,” I beam, tipping my face up toward the sun.
“He was quite taken with you. I’ve never heard him so upbeat.”
I scrunch my face at him, sending him a knowing look. “You sounded surprised by some of his stories. Surely, you’ve heard them before. How much time do you spend with him?”
“Not enough.”
“That’s not a good enough answer. I learned something, far too late, and I’d rather not see you suffer the same fate. My folks died when I was in my twenties. They lived less than healthy lives and the signs were all there that their time was short, but I ignored them. It turns out, they did as well. Massive heart attacks took them both within two years. Here one minute and gone the next. All those nights I spent holed up in my room or out with friends, most of whom I can’t remember their names now, I could have spent with my parents. But, I didn’t. I thought I’d have more time.”
“But you didn’t.”
I nod as he averts his eyes, his face taking on a neutral pose. It must be a habit amongst models, the ability to show—or hide—any emotion at a moment’s notice. The trouble is, you never know which emotions are real and which ones are a mask.
“Do you always do that?”
“What?” Sam swings his gaze back to me, his green eyes wide. Such an unusual color, shifting from light to dark, depending on his mood.