Page 75 of For You, Sir

He stood beside me in silence like that while we finished our desserts, watching the kids zig-zagging after one another across the field beside us. They laughed and whooped with joy while they ran around after each other full-tilt.

In my chest, my heart ran just as wild and free. I ate slowly to make the moment last.

Epilogue (Jun)

(About 6 months later…)

“Let’s go, Einar,” I called. “The florist closes soon.” I slid on a pair of loafers and grabbed my keys from the bowl on the credenza.

“Jun…” Einar’s plaintive voice drifted from the hallway. “Come get this boy.”

I turned the corner to find human and feline caught in an awkward standoff. Mr. Cuddles stood on his hind legs, reaching upward, with claws hooked in Einar’s fancy slacks. Einar held Mr. Cuddles around the ribs at arm’s length—each unwilling to let go.

“He’s trying to climb me,” Einar said.

I picked up the Sphynx under the armpits, liftinguprather thanoutso his hooked claws released. “He likes you.”

Einar made a face. “More like he thinks I’m a scratching post.”

“He’s just reaching, so you’ll pick him up.” I pushed Mr. Cuddles into Einar’s arms. “He wants you to hold him.”

“Little flesh demon,” Einar grumbled, but he cradled the cat against his chest with practiced care. Mr. Cuddles swiped his fleshy cheeks along Einar’s jaw, enthusiastically purring.

Einar looked mouthwatering in a suit and tie, his hair sweeping his shoulders. Somehow, holding the cat made him look even hotter. “You didn’t have to get all dressed up,” I said.

“I want to pay my respects,” Einar said. He gave Mr. Cuddles a kiss on his wrinkly forehead and set him back down. “I know how much she meant to you.” He checked himself in a mirror, and tried to straighten his tie, but it was knotted wrong.

“Allow me,” I said, laying a hand on his chest. I slid off his tie and started again, like a valet dressing his lord.

I love you, too, Sir.

~

We stopped by the florist where I’d once searched for a get-well bouquet for Mom. The day I met Sir.

I walked past the potted orchids and mini roses, straight to the cooler in the back where the funeral arrangements were displayed. I selected a bouquet of somber white lilies and brought them to the counter. The stems were cold to the touch, and they had no smell at all, but their understated elegance suited the occasion.

We headed to the cemetery in thoughtful silence—Einar driving my black sedan, while I held the flowers in my lap. The sun dipped low, casting a soft yellow glow like candlelight. We parked and got out, a cool breeze stirring the manicured grass between graves.

When I found her headstone, I stood beside it, hands clasped. Einar stood a respectful distance behind.

I crouched and laid the flowers on her grave. “Hello,” I said. “It’s Jun.” It felt strange addressing the marble headstone. “I want to thank you for all you did for me.”

I traced my fingers over the inscription on the marble:Francine Olsen. Beloved Mother, Beloved Friend.It still hurt to think about the morning I found her, but the sharp edge to those memories had blunted with time.

“Before you left, you said that life was short,” I said. “That I should live each day to the fullest. And I wanted you to know…” My throat tightened with emotion, and I fell silent. It felt unfair for the living to share their joy with the dead.

Einar stepped forward and put a hand on my shoulder. “He wants you to know he made it,” he finished for me.

“Yeah,” I said.

“I came along so you could meet the boyfriend,” Einar said. “Hope you approve.” He bowed his head, addressing the headstone as if it were a friend. “Thanks for teaching Jun to seize the day.”

I nodded my agreement. I would have missed out on so much without dear friends encouraging me along the way.Live now. Don’t wait.Or as Mrs. Olsen used to say:“You only go around once, kiddo.”

I wanted a lot of good things out of life, and I was set on pursuing them.

I wanted to be a good son. I’d started driving Mom to her doctor’s appointments, and she was better company now that she wasn’t in so much pain. And I was better company when I stopped trying to fill every silence or control the situation.

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