I found a sick night cleaner mopping the floors in my own company and tried to help him before I knew who he was. Then he saw a photo of my mother on my desk, and one question dragged thirty years of silence into the room.
I never thought that the man mopping my company’s marble floor was the same man who left my mother pregnant on graduation night.
I didn’t recognize him because the old photo my mother kept in her Bible showed Raymond young and smiling, one hand on her waist, his lips pressed against her cheek while she wore a blue graduation gown.
Now, the man in front of me had taped-up boots, shaking hands, and a cough that sounded like it belonged in a hospital room.
I didn’t recognize him.
***
He looked up from beside the executive elevators and flinched when he saw me.
“Sorry, sir,” he said, grabbing the mop handle. “I’ll have this clean before the morning crew comes in.”
I stared at him.
He didn’t know me. There was not even a flicker of recognition.
“What are you doing up here at this hour?” I asked.
“Scuff marks, sir. They only let us clean this floor after everyone important leaves.”
I looked at his split shoes. “You’re sick, aren’t you?”
“I’ll have this clean before the morning crew comes in.”
He gave a dry little laugh. “I’m working.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
“No, sir,” he said, wiping sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. “But it’s the only answer I can afford.”
I stepped closer. “Do you need a doctor?”
“Doctors are for people with insurance, sir.”
My jaw tightened. “Your job doesn’t provide it?”
“Do you need a doctor?”
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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