I started, confused by this strange man.
I tentatively asked,“Who’s Josephine?”
He slowly began to speak in a sad voice. “Josephine, my daughter. She had curly blonde hair and green eyes that sparkled when she was happy. Just like you. Sorry for following you. Its just that I miss her so much. She never let us take any pictures of her.”
I didn’t know what to say. We launched into a long conversation about Josephine, and baking, and life in general, I hardly noticed when Isabel walked over. Then she brought me back to reality.
“Who’s this?” she quieried.
I realized I didn’t even know his name.
“Everett Baker”, he replied.
The name caught me by surprise. A 22 year old girl named Josephine Baker had been killed by a drunk driver in La Salle during my senior year of high school.
I had so many questions to ask Mr.Baker, but there was not enough time. My lunch break would end in less than 10 minutes.
“We’ll meet again?” I asked.
“Sometime, somewhere,” he replied.
I waved goodbye to Mr.Baker.