Unexpected Visitor
by T. Herlinger
Clad in a t-shirt and trousers, Paul was already sweating profusely by 11 a.m., wheeling a metal rack of suits through the sea of pedestrians.
around New York City's garment district wasn't exactly a dream job, but Paul wasn't complaining. He had worked in his Pushing racks of clothes
father's restaurant every summer since he was eight years old, and now finally, at 15, he had landed a real iob. On most mornings, he let the ne
throngs of people become a blur around him as he steered the heavy rack of swinging suits down the sidewalk, careful not to run over tO any
toes.
But today, he happened to glance up and spy a familiar face. There at the street corner stood Paul's father, looking oddly small
and frail amid the
rushing people.
Paul cringed with embarrassment as he approached his father, who was standing in his gray business suit, baking in the August heat. He eyed
dad was
trespassing on his
in apparition. Myriad feelings were welling, but mostly Paul felt exasperated and furious-his the restaurant, but there was no way he was going to
his dad suspiciously, wishing he were an
territory. Maybe he meant to convince Paul to come back and work
give
up his newfound independence. Then Paul had
frightening thought -maybe there was an emergency at home! "What's going on?"
he
demanded without saying hello.
'Is Mom in the hospital?
Is the restaurant okay?"
"No, everything's perfect-your mom's fine, the restaurant's fine," Paul's father assured him.
just wanted to witness my son in action," he
declared proudly, his eyes beaming. "You're a real
working man with a legitimate profession, so I thought I'd treat you to an
expensive lunch.
Maybe Reuben sandwich or some pastrami? Or something more extravagant!*
cant, Dad" Paul answered automatically, "I mean, my lunch break isn't until noon, and that's over an hour from now."
his shoulders, "I11 just read my paper at that delicatessen across the street." He
*That doesn't matter," his father responded easily, shrugging
gestured at a red awning with a sign advertising a lunch special. "Come meet me there when you're ready!" With that, he reached up and ruffled
Paul's hair, grinned at him,
and started off across the street. Paul quickly turned away, wracked with embarrassment and guilt He ducked his
head, hiding from the New York crowd of pedestrians, and wheeled the rack of clothes down the sidewalk in the other direction.
