A Noun

Chapter four: Confidant

Confidant
noun
a person with whom one shares a secret or private matter, trusting them not to repeat it to others.

No one knew of the little agreement Pops and I made. If I wrote him a novel on the typewriter, I get to keep the type writer.

We came up with rules about this agreement.

Rule one: Don't tell anyone about the novel, or the deal.
Rule two: The novel must be written on the typewriter and while pops is present.
Rule three: Grandpa must have tobacco and his slippers, and I must have a drink of some sorts. Comfort is important.
Rule four: Upon questioning, deny any and all knowledge of the novel and the deal.

I began to try and find this creative inspiration that every writer must have. I tried to read more and tried to think of what to write.

I had nothing.

So I would take Pops on adventures since he felt that it may trigger an idea.

We often had to do these adventures after school, and on weekends. But he didn't mind having to wait for me to come pick him up.

We of course went to the museum many times. We strolled the exhibits, walked the busy halls with tourists and would have deep intellectual conversation.

But it was when we sat on a bench that we truly found what we enjoyed.

We enjoyed people watching.

I know, it sounds wrong. But we liked to see the excitement on someone's face when they learn something new. Or even the disappointment at the knowledge of their group continuing the tour they both longer wanted to be apart of.

We watched. I would take notes on how people expressed themselves and how they walked. I jotted ideas of how someone held themselves and even fidgeting ticks.

Pops and I became people watchers when we weren't driving to get dinners or adventuring some place new.

He and I had our arms looped together as we were just coming into the nursing home again after our adventure to the theatre. We had watched a Shakespeare play, and we absolutely loved it. Our smiles showed that.

We loved our adventures. We understood each others interests quite well.

"Hopefully Betty isn't home just yet. I'd like to sit on the porch with my pipe and slippers when we get in." He told me with his cute smile.

He liked to smoke his pipe, but grandma never liked him doing so.

We sat on the porch, having coffee and talking about life. We spoke about how I was unsure of what I wanted to do after high school, the weather and even politics.

"Well, Ann, love. I think you should travel. I think you should go on an adventure and discover yourself."

I rolled my eyes and chuckled. "You know mom and dad want me out, with a boyfriend and a gaggle of friends too. I know myself anyways."

He raised a grey brow. "I think your parents need to lay off of trying to sell you off like cattle, and you need to fall in love with you before you fall for someone."

He was right. He always was.

It was when the next apartment over had their grandson come out with them. Everyone shared an outside court yard in the nursing home of Clarke View, but each had small patios.

My grandpa grumbled about Donny coming over with his grandson. His grandson was around my age if I guessed correctly.

"I hope Donny trips one of these days." He whispered to me as I sipped my coffee, making me nearly choke.