It was about 10:30 in the morning on New Year’s Eve day. She was maybe four feet tall. Rolling a cue ball back and forth on the pool table in the old gym where us grown ups were playing pickleball.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hey. My name’s Regina. What’s yours?”

“Hi, Regina. I’m Virgil. Nice to meet you.”

“Are you sitting out a game?”

“I am. So … how old are you, Regina?”

“I’m thirteen. I’m short for my age.”

“Okay … I’m guessing that doesn’t hold you back much?”

“Nope. It’s an advantage. Makes people underestimate me.”

I couldn’t stifle a chuckle.

“What’s so funny?”

“You remind me of somebody named Wanda back when she was your age.”

“Who’s Wanda?”

“How ’bout we get to know each other a bit. Then I can tell ya about Wanda. Can we sit down over at one of those picnic tables? My legs are squawking.”

“Sure.”

____

Before we sat, I poured some water in my bottle from the cooler by the walk-in door. Regina had shuffled along with me. She didn’t say anything, but I could sense her scoping me out.

“How come you were looking me up and down just now?”

“I do that with any boy or man I meet for the first time.”

“Not girls and women?”

“Nope. Don’t plan on marrying a woman.”

“Good to know.”

“You’re laughing again.”

“Well, sweetie, if we gonna be buddies, that’s part of the package.”

“Good. Can we talk about Wanda, now?”

_____

I told her how I’d met Wanda the first day of seventh grade back in Warsaw, North Carolina. I told her I’d been hopelessly in love ever since. And I told her a bunch of other things, being careful to leave out tawdry stuff. I don’t believe she would have been shocked by any of that. Still, there’s stuff a thirteen year old girl doesn’t need to hear. 

While I jabbered on, she cupped her chin over her hands and leaned forward on her elbows. Her gaze was softening the paddle whacks bouncing around the gym. And that was nice. Not like talking to so many people these days whose eyes dart back and forth between me and text messages.

“I’d like to meet Wanda.”

“Gotta promise not to gang up with her against me.”

“No way.”

“‘S what I figured. Okay. Your turn. Tell me about you.”

“Where should I start?”

“Doesn’t matter. Just start.”

She nodded and looked up at the skylights where the winter sun was struggling to get itself noticed. Her chin trembled a little, and her eyes moistened. I reached over and patted the back of a little hand.

“It’s Albert. He’s an eighth grader. We have homeroom together. He’s what they call a ‘special needs’ kid. Very bright. And shy. Just so shy.”

I stopped patting the hand and held it with a teensy squeeze.

“This is hard to talk about, Virgil. I think I’ll take a walk outside for a few minutes.”

“Why don’t you do that. Put your coat on. I’ll be right here when you get back.”

_____

Once she was out the door, Martha slid in next to me on the bench.

“You and my granddaughter hitting it off okay?”

“We are. She was just talking about this boy Albert …”

Martha gave me a wan smile and shook her head. “That child puts her heart and soul into those kids.”

“We’re not talking about just Albert, are we?”

“Oh, no. At any one time there might be six or seven she’s working with during free periods.”

“Whoa.”

“Here she comes. You give her the space, she’ll tell you about all of them.” Then she popped up and trotted over to Regina, planted a kiss on her head, and jumped into a foursome and headed out onto the court.

_______

“What’d Gramma tell you?”

“Not a thing.” She smirked and socked me on the arm.

“I was telling you about Albert?”

“You were.”

“Outside I was thinking about him and the other kids I work with. I was wondering why I get so emotional when I tell people about them … “

She stayed quiet for a minute. I went around the table and scooched in next to her. Leaned my shoulder into her. She did the same.

“Hmm … How about maybe the kids are offering you a preview of what motherhood will be like?”

I wasn’t ready for what came next. A giggle, more giggles, and then hand over her mouth laughing.

“Wha-a-t?”

“Virgil, I am WAY past the previews. The feature attraction is running and I’m going for more popcorn.”

“All right. Okay. This is good.”

“I was talking about Albert and how shy he is? But the thing is, he’s a hottie. I don’t think he realizes that, but he is. And one of the girls in the group is ah … ?”

“Sweet on him?”

“Like really sweet on him. Cheryl. Before vacation started we were having a little holiday party in one of the rooms we use. There was some cool dance music pounding out of an iPad. Some of the girls were boogieing. No boys.”

“Yep.”

“So Albert’s sitting off to the side with his eyes aimed at the floor. Cheryl walks up to him, gets a hold of his right hand and starts tugging. Not too hard. Albert’s not budging. Not even a little. Then boom, ever-r-y thing changes.

“Albert rockets out of his chair. Now he’s up throwing some major moves. Some krunk, some moon walking, even some break dancing. At first, everybody is watching all this with their mouths open. Not for long. Now a circle is forming around Albert with everybody clapping and cheering.”

“My goodness. You make a recording of Albert’s … dance recital?”

“I did.”

“You got it with ya?”

In less than a minute she’d plunged into a backpack, pulled out an iPad, and had the video up and running on our table. The loud music and Albert’s crazy moves had grabbed most of my attention, but something was brewing behind me. When I turned, everybody who’d been out playing pickleball was gazing at the video. Gramma Martha was weaving amongst them whispering in ears.

When the video stopped, somebody yelled, “Encore!” All of them stayed glued to the iPad. Nobody noticed Regina easing over to the walk-in door and sliding out into the cold.

Martha handed me her coat. “I got this,” I said as I took it.

“You’d make a good daddy, Virgil.”

“Been trying to convince somebody of that for a good little while.”

“Don’t give up.”

The snow was wrestling with the sun when I got outside. My money was on the sun.