“Anything you want.”
“Okay. Now about that coffee?—”
“My son Kit got married today.” He looked around, as if he was trying to get his bearings.
“You have a child who’s old enough to get married?”
“He’s twenty-nine.” Armando looked like he was in his mid-thirties. How could he possibly have a son who was only three years younger than me?
“The reception ended a little while ago,” he continued. “I’m proud of myself, because I held it together in front of everyone. But once it was over, I had to get out of there. I found a taxi and started crying and ended up wherever this is.” He gestured vaguely at our surroundings. “But you know that last part, because here you are.”
This was none of my business, but curiosity compelled me to ask, “Why were you crying? Don’t you like your son’s new wife?”
“New husband, and I think he’s great. He’s sweet and kind and exactly right for Kit.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Me, I’m the problem. I’m such a loser.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
“No, it is, especially when you compare me to my son’s new in-laws. They’re loaded, so not only did they pay for that big, fancy schmancy wedding, they also gave the boys a European vacation for their honeymoon. You know what I gave them for a wedding present? A coffee maker.”
“That’s a good gift.”
“It would’ve been. I picked out a really nice one. It cost me two hundred bucks! That’s nuts, right? Mine at home cost me three dollars at a yard sale, and it does the same thing as the expensive one—it makes a fucking pot of coffee.” He looked defeated. “I would have loved to do a lot more for the boys, but there’s no way I can compete with Daddy Warbucks.”
“Who says it’s a competition?”
He wobbled a bit, and then to my dismay, he sat down on the sidewalk. “No one, but I always wanted to give Kit the world. Instead, all I gave him was a lifetime of financial struggles. And a big-ass coffee maker.”
For lack of any better ideas, I sat down with him. “I’m sure you did your best.”
“It wasn’t enough.” He made a sweeping gesture that almost tipped him over. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s great that his new in-laws are super supportive and generous. He deserved that gorgeous wedding, and it’s fantastic that he gets to go to Europe with his new husband. I promise I really am happy for him. But also, fuck my life.”
“What does his mother have to say about all of this?” That was a roundabout attempt at finding out if he was married. But why? We weren’t on a date, and his marital status didn’t matter.
“He doesn’t have one. I got my girlfriend pregnant when we were in high school, but she didn’t want to be a mom. I’ve been a single dad since I was seventeen.” I did the math based on his son’s age and was surprised to discover Armando was forty-six.
“That couldn’t have been easy.”
That started him on a long, slightly slurred ramble. “It wasn’t, but I love my son, and I tried really hard to do right by him. I had to work all the time to support us and keep a roof over our heads. I guess I got used to working a lot, because it’s still all I do, especially now that I own the diner. It’s always work, work, work. This is the first weekend I’ve taken off in years. No wonder my social life is nonexistent.”
He pushed his hair out of his dark eyes and continued, “Everyone else had someone to bring to the wedding, but not me. That’s another thing that made me sad tonight. I have no one, Tory. It feels like life passed me by, and it’s too late for me now. I’m going to be alone forever.” He looked like he might start crying again.
While he was talking, a group of frat boy types walked by and stared at us. One of them smirked and started to make a snarky comment, but he instantly thought better of it and shut up when I glared at him. Most people found me intimidating, but not Armando. For some reason, he seemed to feel right at home spilling his guts to me.
I turned my attention back to him when he muttered, “I wish you could have been my date today, Tory. It would have been fun to dance with you at the reception.”
“We don’t need a wedding for that. I promise I’ll dance with you if you get up, drink some coffee, and let me take you back to the hotel.”
“You will?”
“Absolutely.”
I would have agreed to almost anything at that point, if it meant getting him up and moving in the right direction. My worry was that he might pass out at some point, which would make all of this infinitely more difficult.
As to why I’d decided this man was my responsibility, that was anyone’s guess.
