“Yes, old man,” she says, kissing him back. We wave and leave the stall. I pull the cart, and Manuel walks next to me.
“I can’t leave without kissing my girl.” His voice is steady. I nod to him.
“How long have you two been married?” I ask
“Forty years. Best decision I ever made. My friends called me stupid when I married her within months of dating at 22. They now call me smart.” He looks back again and waves at her. He’s a happy man and still calls his wife of forty yearsmy girl.
We get to the car and load the trunk with the boxes. MAK goes to hug him again and he leaves waving at us. MAK turns me, nodding in the opposite direction.
“Where to now?” I ask. I watch as she grabs her tote bag
“Now, we walk around, eat all the junk food and buy anything good we find.”
I glance at my watch.
“Don’t tell me you are ready to bail on me already?”
Work can wait. “No bailing here, MAK.”
She nods. I get in step next to her and we walk in palpable silence as she weaves through the crowd. I’m sure she knows where she’s headed.
“There’s a butter pretzel that I can’t resist every time I come here.”
“Pretzel it is.”
“Come on, we must move fast. There’s always a line.” Our pace increases, and we stop suddenly. I realize we are in a long line.
“The line is long,” I state the obvious
“This is good, it moves fast. Another ten minutes, it would be longer.”
I nod, hands in pocket next to her. I get a few minutes to gaze at her.
“Why Mandarin?”
“My dad was the Nigerian ambassador to China; we lived there for six years. I picked up the language.” The line starts to move. “When we moved back to UK, dad didn’t want me to lose the language, so he got me a tutor, and I continued to learn and speak.”
“That’s pretty cool. I’m guessing you can read and write.”
She smiles.
“I read better than write in Mandarin. My writing isn’t very good.”
“It’s certainly better than mine,” I say, making her chuckle.
“Cara says Uncle Dan is an awesome lawyer. Are you an awesome lawyer?”
“If my niece says so, then I am.”
“Very funny.”
She’s right; the line does move fast. I look back, and the line is now longer. “What would you like to get? I know what I want,” she says pointing to the menu board.
“I’ll have whatever you have; trusting you on this one.”
“Okay, we’ll have two butter pretzels, two cinnamon and one salt for later.”
I nod, looking at the menu, and a quick math shows her entire request is ten bucks.
