Texter Eps66

Timmy got back to the avil before 10 am.  He had stopped in town to get groceries from a store. He just wanted to walk around and pick few things he wasn't going to be in need of. 
He got to the Avil and Anita was already there working. She was working on the excel sheet that had come in for review. The whole data placement was wrong and she was re collating. It was stressful but necessary. Timmy already told her about making the documents ready before noon. 
The work was hectic with reports coming in from every department and section that generated money for sea side. Tones of recorded expenditure to be checked and lot more. Timmy wished it all had been coming one day at a time. But those who were in charge of submission would never listen! 

Soon it was six and he had to close for the day. That was his limit. Anita stayed back to keep up with her work while Timmy moved home. He got back to the apartment and he began to make plans on how he was getting Felix out and saving Mary. He wasn't sure if Dura was handling every operation or someone else was powering him and now he had to do things himself without anyone getting to help. Anita came home later in the night only to meet a note saying Timmy went out to see someone. 
******

Timmy sat in the cab that had brought him and he counted the stars, leaning close to the window. The old man behind the wheels was calm and collected. He already took it to heart that he was going to be in that position for the night. No more negotiation, Timmy already paid him. They had not really talked because the boy had being in and out of the store,  tracking ID's.
He had a good rapport with the man who kept sales register and since he had the purchase ID in his head they could help track the sale.  It was from a repeated and satisfied client who had  being registered with the store. He was given a description but he was promised to get a beep when the customers shows up.

"Do you have a family?" Timmy asked the old man who looked like he was in his 70. He was in a gray cardigan revealing just his hands and his face was wrinkled with a folded chin.
"Yes I do have a family! Yes" The old man said whirling around. He reached out for his stereo and he pushed few buttons. 
"You need music."
"No I am just fine." Timmy shrugged. He looked out the window again and he watched the lights and the sky. He tried doing another star count when the old man's voice came again. 
"It was difficult as a man leaving your wife to cancer at 39. You know!" The Old man began. He reached out for his dash board, then he returned to adjusted his front mirror. 
Timmy had his undivided attention in the talk and he was ready to have it all through his ears. 
"I get! It would have being terrible." 
"No you don't get." The old man shook his head. 
"You are not married yet."
"For real!" Timmy replied amazed. "is this how you will route all this." 
"You might talk about not having a mother, or never been raised by a father. You can't have this kind of experience..." the old man paused. "How old are you? You can't be more than 25..."
"Maybe 19." Timmy blotted. 
"Maybe! Ohhhh
.. you might even be 18." the old man looked side ways as the noise came off the street. He sniffed and he pushed off an air of relief. 
"I had to take care of my little boy. Cos my wife die months after birth..." Timmy nodded as he listened. He couldn't have acted more remorseful. 
"He grew up and when he was five. He still couldn't walk. I had him checked, and the doctor! as usual said it was some sort of disorder."
"How's the boy now. Can he walk?" Timmy asked. 
"The boy! oh you just asked about the boy. The boy... I took loans to make sure the pain was reduced for him. Cox he did fall sick often. After a while he had difficulty in speaking. And soon  the breathing. The doctor said it was a lung thing."
"I get all that." Timmy said hurriedly. "How is the boy?" He asked abruptly. 
"He is dead." he old man replied as he looked away. His eyes were wet and it rained slightly on his cheek. 
"Now I get." Timmy said as he rubbed his palm against his trousers. 

┬ęGodwin Okhuoya