The Trio

“Hi. I’m Bob.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Rob”

“And hello! I’m Cob.”

They were all smiling, happy to have just moved into their new homes. It was a beautiful Sunday morning, and they all had finished moving the night before and had gotten a good night’s rest. The birds were chirping, the trees were swaying, and all was nice and quiet. 

“Oh my, isn’t it such a nice day outside?” remarked Bob, rasping. He was quite old, old enough to be a grandfather, which was exactly what Rob asked. 

“Where’s your wife, children, and grandchildren? Looks like you might need some help getting around.”

“My wife is long dead”, Bob said, looking down at the ground of the balcony. A few tears brimmed his eyes, and Rob sniffled a bit too. “And my son, my only son, got lost at a carnival many years ago. He was only ten. We never found him.”

“I’m sorry. You have my condolences.”

“And what about you, my friend?”

“Well, I grew up as an orphan. I got separated from my father many years ago, only when I was ten. I then established a family and to my surprise, my son was separated from me at the same carnival!”

“Is that so?” asked Cob, just emerging from inside of his home. Cob was fairly young, having just graduated. “What a coincidence, I also got seperated from my father at a young age.”

“That’s quite interesting.”

They milled around for some time, and went inside to get dressed and begin their days.

After they left, the dusting on furniture filled the air. It was the caretaker. He was dusting the room next door, and had happened to listen in on their conversation. He was a very nosy man, but he always used his curiosity for the greater good. 

But there was one problem- he couldn’t speak. And he has listened in on the whole conversation, and couldn’t believe what he had just heard. How could those three people be so clueless?

In the evening, the trio met again. They were pretty close, and Cob even said, “I don’t understand this feeling… It’s like family, as if you are my parent and grandfather!”

The other two agreed, and proceeded to talk about their day. 

“So, what’s your job, Bob?”

“Well, its a pretty simple thing! So you know about coal, right?” Cob and Rob nodded. “I put the black coloring on it.” Cob and Rob looked at Bob in awe. 

“Pretty important job.”

“And what do you do, Rob?”

“I sell raincoats for fish so that they don’t get wet.”

“I noble job indeed.”

“What about you, Cob?”

“Haven’t found a job yet. Still looking…”

The conversation soon turned to the stories of how they had gotten lost, with the each of them reflecting about their lives. 

They were all sitting on the park, and the caretaker was milling around. 

He sat down next to them, and they greeted him. He opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out.

“Poor guy. No voice.”

“I truly feel bad for him.”

Some time passed, and they sat there, idle. 

“Oh my, Bob! Look at this mole on your nose! My father had one just like that too!”

“What a coincidence! And you know, my son had one on his the left side of his waist.”

“I think I have one there,” Rob said, lifting his shirt up and exposing the mole on his waist. 

“What a coincidence!”

“My son had a mole on the bottom of his foot. I always used to find that peculiar.”

Cob instinctively looked at the soles of his feet, where there was a mole, dead center. 

They all chorused, “What a coincidence!”

The caretaker stood there, helpless. He could understand their relationship, but he couldn’t express it. He frantically wrote down on paper, and handed it to them. 

The trio looked at it in surprise, exchanging glances and frantically motioning at each other. 

Tears brimmed at the caretaker’s eyes, and he waited, patiently to realize.

But he was let down.

“Mr. Caretaker, I’m afraid we can’t read English.”

The caretaker howled in frustration. Of course! The fools were so uneducated that they could only speak the local language! 

He stomped off in frustration, leaving them be. 

“I wonder why he’s so frustrated.”

“I don’t know.”

“Quite an odd guy.”

The next day, the trio met in the park, chattering. They were still clueless about their relation, and it was getting into the caretaker’s head. 

So he decided to try again. 

Approaching the trio, he made them stand up. He put Bob and Rob next to each other, and motioned them both with his hands. Then he took Rob and Cob, and motioned at them both with his hands. 

Their faces dawned in realization. 

“No way! We don’t work together, Mr. Caretaker,” said Cob, breaking the silence. 

The other two nodded in agreement. 

The caretaker couldn’t take it anymore. He threw his hands over his head in frustration, and stomped out of the park. 

A week passed, with the trio going their own ways. They finally found the time to meet over the weekend, examining the pictures that Bob was holding. He was holding a picture of supposedly his son, having found it from a local bureau. 

“Oh my!” exclaimed Rob. “That man looks just like me! What a coincidence!”

Bob agreed, and Rob hurried inside to get a picture of his son, which he had taken before he had gotten lost. 

“Oh my!” exclaimed Cob. “That boy looks just like me! What a coincidence!”

And then he hurried inside to get a picture of his father, which he had in his chirt pocket the day he had gotten lost.

“Oh my!” exclaimed Rob. “That man looks just like me! What a coincidence!”

They all compared each others’ pictures, exclaiming at how alike they all looked. 

The caretaker was passing, and he could help but try one last time. He took the pictures and motioned at them, showing that they were related. 

“I think he wants us to carry the pictures around town and show it to people, trying to locate the lost people.”

“Probably.”

The caretaker howled in agony, upset.

“Mr. Caretaker, we have to hold our own pictures, though. And we need you to stop howling so we can talk to people.”

That was enough. Enough! The caretaker left, bawling. 

A few months passed, and the trio grew a bit more distant. Eventually, Cob had found a job and Rob had to move, so Bob was left all alone. 

The caretaker found him one day, milling around aimlessly. 

Trying on last time, he tried his best to motion at Rob and Cob, trying to explain that they were all related. 

“You don’t mean…” started Bob. “That Rob is my son and Cob is my grandson!”

The caretaker screamed with joy, happy that Bob had realized.

“I can only wish, Mr. Caretaker, only wish.”