I walk back to see Mrs Jones has calmed down considerably well now, well misses Jones I'm guessing because it isn't really nice of me it isn't really respectful of me to be referring to someone who was at least ten years older than me as a Mrs to a monster.
She is married though, even if this was a jerk and a total douchebag. I sit down getting myself a little cup of ice cream in the process and savouring the taste of it on my tongue.
"So what are you going to do now?" I ask her, and the undecided look on her face actually surprises me. For a minute there I thought she would simply lapse into something of a dead look. Well it isn't really dead as much as it was sorry for herself because I thought she wouldn't have an option at all.
But here it is, an undecided look in her eyes. It give me enough knowledge that she has options. It makes me annoyed and shocked because she might have had options all this while, but yet she chose not to take it because she felt she was adapted to everything.
"Is there really anything that you can do?" I ask her trying to confirm my suspicions, and she nods her head shyly.
"Last week when I was walking around your brother, he handed something over to me".
At her mentioning my brother I'm pretty sure that my attention is fully on her now. My attention span is simply drawn to her because I had been lost in thought.
I've been thinking of exactly how she would have any sort of way out of this, and still not take it.
"My brother handed something over to you?" I ask her and she nods her head quite quickly. The look in her eyes now is a look that I cannot place. It is one that is almost foreign to me, it is a look of fondness.
For a moment you could think she was infatuated with my brother, with her wearing that sort of look on her face you would think so, but instead I know it is different. This fond gaze in her eyes is something of a motherly love and I wonder exactly how Scott had managed to attract it from her.
"What did he hand over to you?" I ask her and she brings it out from the fold of her sleeves. She hands it over to me and I see that it is a piece of paper, a cheque to be precise, and at the amount on it my heart simply doubles over.
It doubles over because I cannot imagine exactly how much Scot had to go through to get this sort of an amount and how selfless he has to be to give it over to to her. The amount is at least six figures, which should be amounting to over hundreds of thousands, and I simply can't wrap my head around it.
I can't place it and when I look at her face, I see that she has tears coming out. I think I have a little bit of that too.