Chapter 3
The funeral home staff watched Ethan spend the whole afternoon counting coins, feeling each one with his fingers. In the end, he was still short by forty dollars.
"Don't worry about it," the staff member said. "I'll take thirty-five dollars off the cremation fee, and you can just owe me for the urn. Pay it back whenever you can."
Ethan wouldn't accept it. He bowed, insisting, "I swear I'll pay you back. I promise, I will."
When the staff pulled him up, his forehead was smeared with blood.
On the day of the cremation, he stood alone in front of the furnace. No one else was there with him.
He couldn't see the flames, but he could feel the heat.
When the ashes were placed in the urn, Ethan held the box and realized the lid was completely blank. Nothing was written at all.
He asked the staff if he could borrow a pen.
Ethan said, "I can't see, but I know how to write my sister's name. She taught me."
He gripped the pen and, by feel and memory, carefully wrote my name, Luna Jones, across the lid.
The letters were shaky and crooked, with the second letter nearly running off the edge of the lid.
He traced the writing with his fingers, feeling it wasn't good enough, and thought about erasing it and rewriting it.
The staff said, "Leave it be. It's good. Your sister would know it was hers."
Ethan cradled the urn in his arms, holding it close.
He set out for Derek's company.
He walked for two hours. Halfway there, he tripped and almost dropped the urn. He threw himself to the ground, shielding it with his body.
When he got up, his knees were scraped, and his palms were cut by the rough edges of the urn.
He had no idea he was bleeding. He couldn't see it anyway.
All he noticed was that his palms felt wet and sticky.
He figured it was just sweat.
Ethan stood rooted in the lobby for forty minutes.
Two employees walked by. One hurried around him, while the other kept stealing glances until his coworker tugged him away.
The one being pulled away whispered, "Does that say Luna Jones on the urn? Isn't she Mr. Smith's wife?"
The colleague said, "Mind your own business. Let's go."
Forty minutes later, a middle-aged woman wearing a cleaning uniform came up to Ethan.
She crouched down and placed a bottle of water next to him.
She said, "Here, drink some water."
Ethan turned his head in her direction and replied, "Thank you."
"Are you Luna's brother?" she asked.
Ethan nodded quietly.
The woman was silent for a while. Her name was Eleanor Davis, had been cleaning this building for eight years.
Luna used to come by the company a few times after she got married, but then she stopped.
One Christmas Day, Luna brought Eleanor a bag of food, stuffed full of lamb and carrots.
Eleanor never forgot that.
"Is she really gone?" she asked softly.
"Yes," Ethan replied.
Eleanor straightened up, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.
She was about to say something else when the sharp click of high heels echoed from outside.
She immediately stepped back, lowered her head, and gripped her broom tightly.
The person who walked in was Derek's mother, Vivian Brown.
Vivian was dressed in a smoky gray cashmere coat, with a light camel silk scarf draped around her neck.
Her hair was perfectly styled. As she entered, the two security guards stepped aside, and the receptionist stood up to greet her.
Her steps were steady. As her gaze swept across the lobby, she spotted Ethan kneeling on the ground.
She paused for a moment and then frowned, her expression shifting just a bit.
"Who is this?" she asked the security guard beside her.
The older guard replied, "He said he's Mrs. Smith's brother, and he's got an urn with him."
Vivian's gaze landed on the rough wooden urn, lingering on the messy, crooked letters spelling out my name.
Her face didn't change at all. She simply shifted her eyes away, like she was just glancing at some dirt on the floor, without a second thought.
"Here it comes again," Vivian said, her voice low but every word echoing through the lobby.
She continued, "Last time, Luna showed up herself, bawling and making a scene, saying she was pregnant and had to see Derek.
"We checked. She wasn't pregnant at all. Now she's taken the act to a whole new level, even bringing in a blind kid and claiming he's her brother."
Ethan caught the word "blind." He didn't move.
Vivian walked up to him and looked down. The perfume she wore was so strong, but Ethan had no clue what kind it was.
"Young man, how much did she pay you? Is it really worth kneeling here for that?" Vivian said.
Ethan lifted his head. His pale gray eyes turned in Vivian's direction. But his eyes were empty, staring into nothing.
"I don't know you," Ethan said, his voice steady. "I'm here for Derek. He's Luna's husband.
"Luna is gone, and he's supposed to pay for her funeral."
Vivian's lips pressed into a thin line.