Chances

Chapter 3: Meeting Dad

Take a deep breath, I say to myself. Mom and I are in the headquarters' main lobby. The sounds of heels walking left echoes bouncing across the room.

Light shone brightly against blue tiled floor. In front of us was a young African American woman, wearing dark blue clothes, reminding me of Erudites in Divergent.

Her dark olive fingers stopped pressing phone keys as she paused to fix her professional bun. The receptionist noticed us standing and called us over to her desk.

"Hello," Mom greeted. "I am dropping my daughter to my husband, Benjamin Hamilton."

The reception lady nodded and typed the computer keys. "Oh, yes." she said. "They are on their lunch break right now."

"Thank you," Mom beamed.

I followed Mom over to the elevators until the receptionist stopped us.

"Ma'am, do you know where you're going?" she asked urgently.

Mom nodded.

"Thank you for letting us know." she said, winking at her.

The woman nodded reluctantly and went back to her computer.

As soon as we headed to the elevator, I pushed the second button and waited until the silver doors open.

Quietly, we stepped inside and watched the doors close in front of us. All of a sudden, a male hand squeezed inside the crack. I rushed behind my mother while she smoothed my hair in comfort.

Two hands pushed the doors as the guy in a black business suit crawled inside the shaft.

He had short, grayish brown hair, brown eyes, and rubble all over his lips. Pieces of sugar powdered doughnuts remained on the corners of his mouth.

"Hey," he breathed gruffily. Mom and I noticed the sweat on his forehead and depicted that he was running late.

"Doughnut run?" Mom guessed. The man in the suit nodded in embarrassment then stood next to us.

I watched as the guy looked at Mom attractively and brushed the crumbs off his red tie.

"So, what brings you to the F.B.I.?" he asked in a flirtatious way.

Mom looked at him briefly then back to my face.

"You're married, right?" he guessed.

She giggled very softly. "Do you say that to other girls?" she asked.

The guy gave her a smug look and shook his head.

"Don't play stupid, Mr. Walters." Mom says sternly.

"You like to do this routine to nine women, I think."

I giggled as I watched the sweat dribbled down to his face.

"How do you know my name-" the guy asked.

"I know you are one crappy player." Mom interrupted.

"You cheat on your wife several times. I'm surprised that she doesn't even notice."

The man scratched his hair nervously and stared at the wooden floor.

"O-okay fine." he stuttered. "Just don't tell my wife anything."

"How do you even know about them? I never told them to anybody!"

"Your wedding ring is in your pocket." Mom stated. "Probably, because your marriage sucks. I stated the number nine, because of the faded phone numbers on the back of your hands."

The two silver doors opened on cue, allowing Mom and me to walk out of the elevator. Just then, the "player" called Mom.

"I still don't understand how you know my name." he said.

Mom gave him an intelligent smile and told him the answer.

"My husband knows you," she replied. The man gaped at her as elevator doors closed in his face.

While married couples hang out with their friends, drink red wine, and take care of their families, Mom and Dad were the opposite, with the exception of watching over me. 

They never drank alcohol, watch horror movies without ever being traumatized, read mystery novels, play chess, and spent their anniversaries doing target practice and boxing.

They're like a Mr. and Mrs. Smith movie.

I kept pacing after Mom, who keeps holding my hand.

"Cleo," she began. "Don't run, but stay close to me."

"Sorry," I mumbled. However, I couldn't stop running. I wanted to see the insides of FBI headquarters, or even see the mysterious smile of my father.

We came across the quiet hallway, yet I can heard commotion in the other room.

Mom smiled as she finds the door to headquarters and twist the unbolted knob. Together, we walked inside the spacious room and searched for Dad until I saw him talking to his boss.

The sunlight, which seeped through the windows, heated the light gray walls. Dark blue carpet rested on the floor, tampered with four week-old muddy footsteps and a month old spill of black coffee.

Dad's eyes then flickered from his boss's gaze to Mom's as we walk over to him.

Sensing us, his boss gave him a pat on the shoulder and left Dad alone.

"Hey Sherlock," Mom greeted. "Are you busy right now?"

Dad shook his head and caught a glimpse at my tiny face.

"Of course, I'll watch over Cleo." he answered. "Just go back to work, your boss needs you."

"Thanks," she beamed.

After talking with Dad, Mom tells me to be good to him and left.

"Let me finish something and then, we'll go to Liberty Park." Dad promised.

I peeked over his shoulder and asked if it was a case.

"Close," he says. "It's a case report. FBI agents write them after they solve an investigation."

"What case is it about?" I asked, staring at the typed screen.

"Cleo, I am not supposed to say that to a seven year old." Dad reminded.

I poured my lips and stared into his mixed eyes. "But why?" she asked. "It's just a homicide investigation."

"Exactly," he replied.

"Pretty please with sprinkles on top?" I pleaded. "What's it about? Mom wouldn't show me."

I rested my cheek against his shoulder, hoping that he would notice.

"Did you do your homework?" Dad asked.

I nodded.

"Have finished your chores?" he asked.

I nodded again.

"What about the Sudoku puzzle book I gave you?"

"I already finished it in like, three seconds."  I said annoyed.

"I even completed the crossword puzzle you gave me."

Dad typed in a couple sentences and saved his work on the computer. Next, he shuts it off and fetched his suitcase, which carried his lunch and papers.

"I'm finished," he said, looking at me plainly. "Let's go."