“All of it.”
Then I asked:
“Tell me about Margaret.”
So he did.
We talked until the sun disappeared.
He told me about his wife.
I told him about my marriage, divorce, Ellie, work, and the life I had built.
He listened to me with the same attention he had once apparently given my childhood ice cream order.
Before he drove away, I told him:
“You kept your promise.”
Walter looked down.
“Did it help?”
“Yes.”
I swallowed.
“It reached exactly where Margaret wanted it to.”
Walter stayed on our route for the rest of that summer.
A few nights each week, he parked near the corner.
Ellie got her strawberry shortcake bar.
I brought him coffee.
Soon the three of us developed our own strange little routine.
Ellie adored him.
On quiet evenings, Walter taught her card games through the truck window.
I learned that he was basically living between his truck and cheap motel rooms.
