For them. For you. For me.

The End.

Sadie greeted Paul with the warmest of smiles, conveying just how much she missed him. Cindy noticed. To the untrained, unfamiliar eye, Sadie’s smile was nothing more than a sincere grin. To Paul—knowing the person and her history—it glowed like the sun.

Paul made the introductions. Cindy was John’s sister (Cindy corrected him when he said, “Half sister”) and Little John was her son. Sadie was a school friend of John and Paul’s. It was a bit awkward for Paul as he tried to navigate how exactly to classify their relationship. Cindy found it extremely amusing.

“We’re…together,” Sadie said succinctly, saving Paul from any more embarrassment.

Cindy playfully punched Paul in the arm before giving Sadie a hug, much to the latter’s surprise.

“John told me about you,” Cindy said lovingly. Sadie, uncomfortable with the hug but reciprocated nonetheless, looked to Paul with some worry. She hoped John had left out some of the more painful details of her life. Paul sensed her worry and nodded that all was okay.

“I hope the trip was good,” Sadie said as they separated. Cindy laughed and looked over to Paul who could only nod in a feigned disappointment.

It was a nearly 24-hour drive where Paul and Cindy took turns sitting behind the wheel. They stopped for pictures at every monument sign that noted what state they were entering, had a couple meals (eaten in the car), and (a few times) got gas, used the bathroom, and stretched their legs. They entered Florida at about 11 am the next morning. Like clockwork, Cindy’s phone rang with Lucy’s number flashing across the Home Screen, announced by a ring tone of the Star Wars Imperial March. Paul suggested she not answer it. Cindy knew not answering her mother wouldn’t stop her from racing down to Florida after her and her son. It was best to meet her head on.

“Lucy, I’m heading to Florida. We’re fine.” It was all that Cindy said into the phone before hanging up. Sharing her destination and keeping things very brief meant it was enough to satisfy Lucy’s irritation and curiosity. If Cindy hadn’t said where they were headed (as Paul suggested), Lucy was certainly going to make a bigger deal than needed. But Cindy wasn’t a runaway 13 year old anymore. She was an adult. Cindy wasn’t a harm to herself or her child so Lucy couldn’t involve any law enforcement. Lucy would have to come get them herself. And Cindy knew Lucy wasn’t going to do that, even though Lucy knew exactly where they were going, if not why.

During the day-long car ride they talked mostly about John and shared their personal memories of him. Paul didn’t know that John had tried to learn the piano. Cindy shared it was one of the many fights that he and Lucy had. To Lucy’s credit, she thought it would give John—who loved writing, drawing, and attempting to paint—another creative outlet. John appreciated the gesture and did his best. It was “his best” that became a source of the fighting. Lucy thought he could do better and didn’t have a problem telling him so. John, who was already struggling, became frustrated and lashed back at his stepmother. Never one to soften her stance, words, or demeanor even if she sincerely meant no harm, Lucy’s criticisms robbed whatever joy or motivation John had for learning the instrument.  

“Was this junior year?” Paul asked, to which Cindy confirmed. “There was a month where he didn’t want to come out.”

“Tuesdays and Thursdays?” Cindy asked. Paul nodded. “Yep. Piano class.”

The two laughed while Little John looked on confused.

Paul shared with Cindy how they had once made almost $500 parking cars at a Miami Dolphins game. Parking at the stadium was costly and had to be purchased in advance. It wasn’t uncommon for the homes in the neighborhoods that surrounded the stadium to allow people to park on their lawn for a fee. John and Paul found an abandoned lot off of the main road. They had no idea who owned the lot but it didn’t matter. To better sell the deception, they wore hard hats normally used for construction sites. 

“Hard hats?” Cindy laughed in disbelief.

“People didn’t question us at all!”

Since they weren’t too visible from the road, John would go to the corner and urge cars to come and park. Before long a steady stream of cars came in. Paul collected the money ($25 per car) and John would direct the cars where to park. It was about an hour worth of work. Not a single adult questioned them. Once the lot was full, they slowly crept away and headed for John’s car, which was parked several blocks away.

“What happened to the cars?” Cindy asked.

“No clue!” Paul laughed.

The four squeezed into Sadie’s tiny four-door sedan. As Cindy buckled in Little John, she caught sight of two urns nestled in a box on the car floor between Paul’s legs. The urns, white, with the symbol of infinity engraved on each, were ceramic. They looked nearly identical except one had a green infinity symbol while the other had red. When Paul looked to the back seat to make sure that Cindy and Little John were ok, she nodded towards the two urns.

“Who else are we celebrating?” she asked.

Paul nodded. “Our friend Randy.”

Randy peacefully passed away in his sleep several weeks after Paul visited. Paul only found out after he called the dog rescue organization that Randy was so fond of. When he told them he wanted to donate in Randy’s name, that’s when the owners shared the sad news. Paul wasn’t at all sad. He was thankful he had reconnected with Randy before his passing. Paul made a significant donation in Randy’s name. With the money, the dog rescue was able to fund the build of a new freestanding building to house their growing rescue population. The state-of-the-art building was to be named The Randy House.

“John never talked about Randy,” Cindy remarked.

Sadie, focused on the road but could feel Paul giving her a look. When she looked over to Paul, it was to signal that she was relenting to being the one to give an explanation.

“John loved Randy,” Sadie slowly began to explain. “Randy loved John. But—“

Cindy cut in with a tinge of anger in her voice. “Let me guess—Lucy.”

Paul, who only found out after one of the many marathon talks he had with Sadie when they reconnected, nodded slowly. Cindy angrily let out a low growl. Lucy disgusted her.

“John never told anyone—well, he told me,” Sadie continued. “You know at the time, there was a lot going on—you, his relationship with your mom, your mom and your dad—he needed to focus on one thing at a time and it was his career.”

Cindy’s eyes began to tear. Her brother was selfless. He gave so much for others. 

“Randy felt the same but I think they were both—” Sadie finished.

“No, I get it,” Cindy interrupted.

The shame was the cause for the distance between John and Randy, who moved to South Carolina to start a new life. They still found ways to connect on and off, even more so as Randy was working to get his life back in order after a divorce, a death, realization the child he considered his really wasn’t, the loss of his business, and more.

“Now they can be together,” Cindy said, wiping away her tears.

The remainder of the car ride was silent apart from the hum of the car’s air conditioning. Even Little John sat quietly, distracted by the barrel tile roofed homes that looked unlike any he had seen and the skyward climbing palm trees that weren’t found where he was born and raised. There were moments that Paul wanted to break that silence and talk about any other memories of John but he held back. As if sending his thoughts, Sadie would take one hand off the steering wheel and grab his tightly as if to hold him back.

The car came to a slow stop. Paul looked out his window in a bit of disbelief.

“It’s the same, but different,” he mumbled audibly.

The four stepped out of the car and took in the elementary school they attended. Cindy was many years after, but this was where John, Paul, Randy, and Sadie first crossed paths.

Paul, the urns nestled tightly in his arms, began to walk into school property. The others quietly followed.

The school had a different color. One would expect so after thirty plus years. And there was no telling how long the school was that sickly yellow. It may have been vibrant in its time, but when they attended, it had certainly aged. Paul, Randy, and John used to think of disgusting ways to describe the color. Egg yolk, mixed with water, and left out in the sun. Vomit of sour cream, yellow American cheese, and mustard. Baby poop composed of microwaved yellow squash and room temperature breast milk. Paul couldn’t remember them all but they were all funny.

Now the school was a light blue that was also likely more vibrant when it was first painted. It helped that there were more trees and flowers than in their time. It made the boxy, rectangular school seem less like the prison that John used to describe it as. The colorful flowers and lush trees gave the school some life. 

The four approached the playground. It looked rightfully out of place since the very spot where it stood had been where the bicycle racks were once located back in their day. Paul walked slowly towards the playground then came to a stop as if ordered to do so.

“Here,” he said to the group and placed the urns on the ground. He stood where Randy had him pinned to the ground ready to beat the life out of him until John came to calm the situation. The spot where he stood also happened to be oddly cleared of grass, like the bald spot on a man’s head.

Little John, urged by Cindy, ran to play on the slides, monkey bars, and swings leaving the adults to do their thing. 

The three stood in silence. Nothing told them what to do but they each were guided in their own way. Paul breathed deeply and bore his eyes into the cleared spot of dirt where it all began. Sadie stared off into an unknown distance, carried by the hum of a breeze rushing through the air and weaving through the trees. Cindy closed her eyes and pictured her brother standing before her with a mischievous grin and his dark brown hair messed as if he had just come in from playing outside.

They weren’t religious, especially Cindy who was turned off after being raised in a strictly religious household, so they didn’t pray. Instead they had their own private conversations with John. Even many years later, when they would talk about this very moment, they wouldn’t share with one another just what was being thought or said.

Paul reached down to grab John’s urn and gently handed it over to Cindy, who received it awkwardly. In her mind she told herself, “Don’t drop him” as if this ornate piece was her brother. But in many ways, it was. She slowly lifted the top and nervously dipped her hand inside, scooping a handful of what remained of John. At the same time, Sadie took Randy’s urn and scooped a handful of their friend. Paul took John in one hand and Randy in the other. The girls followed. In unison, no countdown or order needed, they sprinkled both to the ground. It wasn’t spreading remains of death but sprinkling life so that one day something would grow. Years later, flowers would mysteriously sprout from that very spot. 

The little they had left in their hands, they tossed into the air. Let the breeze carry them to wherever they were needed, Cindy thought to herself. Paul and Sadie thought something similar.

This wasn’t a moment of closure nor were any of the three looking for such a thing. John still belonged to each of them as more than a memory and more like a guiding force. The silence they each were left to was a conversation in their hearts that said to John that they were more than okay. They were sad. Maybe a little angry. Possibly.

Paul looked over to Sadie and then to Cindy. They were already looking to him with peace in their faces.

“Ready?” Cindy asked, intoning sarcastically with a grin as if she had been waiting far too long for Paul to arrive.

Paul nodded. 

The three began walking back to the car, Little John ran towards them from the playground. Paul, Sadie, and Cindy looked around at the school where they had all come together. Then they looked back to the very spot where all their lives converged. There was a feeling of satisfying comfort. This wasn’t closure but more like a continuation of their (new) lives which would take a slight detour from a path whatever forces had intended for them. That divergence came because of John. 

They piled into the car and sped off. They agreed it was time to celebrate. In honor of his namesake, Little John was given the honor of choosing what they would eat. He was hungry for a hamburger, French fries, and a milkshake. The adults laughed and agreed. John, who loved burgers, fries, and a good milkshake, would have agreed as well. It seemed like a fitting dinner.

Epilogue

Three months later Lucy Winston would have a heart attack in the produce department of her local grocery store. Witnesses say that she was chastising a clerk over the ridiculous price of apples, which she knew he had absolutely no control over. Lucy Winston was about to verbally finish off the clerk with a line about how he would amount to nothing in life when she stopped mid-sentence and collapsed on the floor. Ironically, the very apple she was complaining about was clutched tightly in her hand as her life fled her body. 

Since Cindy had moved back to Florida, Mrs. Winston had just amended her will with instructions on how she would be handled after death (cremation) and who would oversee her estate (oddly, a next door neighbor who thought the old woman hated her). What she didn’t change was that she left whatever remained of her estate to Little John. Her only grandchild. She loved him more than she likely showed and certainly more than her daughter and stepson. Mrs. Winston had no family or friends and her funeral was reflective of it. Little John was an obvious beneficiary. Mrs. Winston didn’t give a second thought as to whether Cindy deserved anything. Whether the old woman considered it or not, Cindy didn’t want anything from her. John already created a life for them. 

Cindy and Little John settled into a modest two bedroom villa that was only a block from the beach. On Saturdays they would take long walks and Sundays they wold watch the sun slowly rise. Fresh, salty sea air would fill their living room along with the sound of crashing waves. Their little villa was also walking distance from the apartment John owned where Cindy would run to when running away from home. This apartment was now hers as well and she was free to do with it as she pleased. Cindy opted to keep the apartment rather than sell it outright. There were memories she wanted to keep. It could also be a home for Little John when he would be on his own.

John left Cindy enough money to live comfortably, but it wasn’t enough for her to never work again. Even if it was, she wasn’t the type to spend the rest of her young life doing nothing. Cindy took a job at a nursing home as an activities director. Essentially, she organized fun events to get the elderly residents active, entertained, educated, and social. How she managed to land such a position was beyond her. She applied on a whim and apparently clicked with the Head Director. It was the most formal interview she’d ever experienced (at that point she had only worked hourly jobs that required nothing more than filling out the application and showing up). Regardless, they clicked. Somehow, the director reminded her of John. It put her at ease. As for the job, Cindy found it enjoyable. The residents loved her. Sometimes she’d bring Little John with her. Naturally, he was a hit.

Little John, in a quick few years, would simply go by “John”. This was the age where kids began to form an idea of how they were to be viewed by others and he was no longer Little John. He was a big boy now...at least “big” by elementary school standards. John inherited his mom’s free and loving spirit and his uncle’s kind and generous nature while thankfully none of his grandmother's cold and cruel ways. Cindy was glad for that. John had a love for science and saw a future in medicine. Cindy joked that it was because they used to binge watch Grey’s Anatomy and House. Thanks to what his uncle left him, affording medical school would not be an issue.

Three months later for Paul and Sadie meant an engagement. They had only reconnected several months prior so Paul felt a little nervous that Sadie would say, “No”. He didn’t think it was enough time to work through the history of their difficult breakup and the subsequent long separation. But it didn’t matter, if at all. Sadie said, “yes”. To make it special, Paul zeroed in on Sadie’s love of Italian food and took her to an authentic Italian restaurant…in Italy. It was a clear and surprisingly cool moonlit evening in Venice. Everything was in alignment for a proposal on a romantic gondola ride. The gondolier, an opera singer of sorts, surprised them with a (male) rendition of Whitney Houston’s “I Have Nothing”. When he sang the lyric “...if I don’t have you” Paul turned to Sadie, revealed a box from his pocket, and proposed. Sadie accepted before Paul even got the ring on her finger.

In two years, they would have their first and only child, a boy named William—Billy as he was more affectionately called. Cindy would be the godmother. Paul found it easy to slide into the role of father, doting on his son and catering to his every need. 

Paul had plenty of money in the bank but had a desire to start up a business. He developed a small marketing firm catering to the arts–museums and theaters. On the outside it seemed to be an odd choice, which it was. But he did it to honor John. The money he made provided extra cushion for him, Sadie, and Billy.

The money Paul made allowed Sadie to transition from her job as an accountant to founding a support group for women trying to recover from abusive relationships. At first, it was just a way for Sadie to give back and lend support. But the endeavor revealed a true passion in her. In two years the support group didn’t just grow in members but was replicated in other areas in South Florida. Sadie was featured on the local news and interviewed in national publications, recognized for her tireless work and her backstory.

Paul, Sadie, Cindy, and the kids would get together often whether it was holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, or sporting events. They were now all family and would celebrate accordingly. The most important celebration was for John. But it wasn’t about his passing. It would be the date when they all had come together for the very first time. And that was because of John. They’d eat and swap stories that they’d told each other many, many times before. Sometimes an overlooked detail would emerge but for the most part, they were stories told, re-told, and re-told over and over. The stories never got old. The stories were a way to keep John at the center of their lives. He’d stay with them like a handprint on their hearts. 

FINIS