“How so?”
“My dad. He loved baseball. The summer before I began college, my parents bought me a new car. My dad and I went on a tour of all of the major league baseball stadiums. We would have little adventures all the time. Just the two of us. That was the last solo trip that I took with him. He said it was my last trip as daddy’s little girl because I was officially an adult. I think I’ve seen every stadium in the league, well, at least before many of the old ones were demolished. I studied the construction. What made each one special. We had a blast.”
“Are you a daddy’s girl?” I asked, sheepishly. I didn’t have sisters and only a few female cousins. But I knew girls and their fathers usually had a special relationship.
“I was…”
Her voice trailed off, but the twinkle in her eye remained. I knew that look. I wasn’t a daddy’s boy, but I certainly had my fair share of memories with my dad.
Finally, she smiled, a faint, sweet smile. “He’s gone now but I’m still a daddy’s girl.” She brushed her hands away in a feeble attempt not to cry. I could see the tears pooling at the corners of her eyes before she quickly dotted them away with her napkin. I knew that pain all too well.
“I get it. I lost my dad too. Years ago, but I get it.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. Time can’t heal every wound.”
“Right. Well.” Ari shook her head, blinking away her tears. “That’s why this soccer stadium is so exciting! I get to help design a state-of-the-art stadium. Something my dad would have loved. How dope is that?”
The server brought our food, rolling her eyes as she slid our plates in front of us. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Ari bite her lower lip, trying to suppress a laugh.
Over lunch, I learned so much about Ari. After Hampton, she graduated top of her class at Northwestern, earning a prestigious internship in Florence, and lived in London for a few years before returning to the States. She worked at one of the big three firms in Chicago before returning to Atlanta shortly after her father passed away. When her dad died, it was her sign to leave and be closer to her mother.
In between bites, I tried to get insight to her time in Chicago. “So, is that why you left such a big firm like Leland, Stokes, and Brandies? Because your dad died?”
Ari’s eyes avoided mine as she stirred her noodles. “Part of the reason,” she answered somberly.
A tension seemed to radiate in her body language, sadness now in her eyes at the mention of Chicago. There was a story there. I didn’t want to ruin lunch by pressing the issue further, so I didn’t.
The lunch wasn’t all somber topics and talking about work. I learned she was DC over Marvel, with Shuri being the exception. Ari was a native of Atlanta and loved all the home teams, which made me playfully groan because I was a devoted Saints fan. I didn’t disclose that yet because I still wanted her to like me. I made a mental note that our next lunch should be Mexican because that was her absolute favorite food. Tacos, according to Ari, were their own food group.
“Did you ever take Mr. Garnett’s class? Global theory?” I asked, looking over my water glass at her.
Ari laughed, covering her mouth between bites of her udon. “Oh, my god! Yes, that class was so tough! And he would always say…”
“You’re shaping the landscape of the world!” We both said in unison, laughing. It had been so long since I had laughed with a woman. Hell, with anyone. It felt good.
I looked at the time on my watch. An hour had gone by fast. Fuck! Two hours! “Shit! Robinson is going to kill us. And Greer is a snitch, so we better get back.”
“Who’s Greer?” Ari asked, genuinely puzzled. I guess she hadn’t realized that Greer had already peeped her in the hallway. Thank God he hadn’t said anything to her! I’d hate for Greer to be her first impression of the associates at the firm.
“That would take another two hours. I’ll give you the abbreviated low-down on the ride back to the office. We better go.”
Ms. Gayle raised an eyebrow. The consummate mother hen, she looked at her watch and tapped it.
“Two hours? Porter, you know better! Mr. Robinson is looking for the two of you,” said Ms. Gayle. “He looks like he can smell blood in the water.”
I looked at Ari in horror. Mr. Robinson, the other half of Riddle & Robinson, was nothing like Mr. Riddle. Robinson, to be frank, was a bit of a dick, which was why he and Greer got along so well. Coming back from lunch after two hours wouldn’t be a good first impression for Ari. But I’d take the heat. It was my fault.