“There,” Ethan Hill declared, “we’re all set. Richard should have what he needs with this, right? Chairs, equipment—I daresay our music living room may even look better all cluttered up this way. I think I was fooling myself with the rug, no one wants to get up let alone dance at our ripe age, hey Harold?” He chuckled to himself. “Though it does mean we may need to order more dining room chairs now, hmm. Eh, we’re still spry enough to move them from one room to another ourselves for now.”
Ethan turned to his husband and spied a single tear run down his cheek. “Harold, honey? What’s wrong? I thought this would make you happy, not sad.”
Through a brave smile Harold answered, “If this weren’t the last time I’d see my son perform, heh, well. Maybe this is for the best, not really a career highlight for Richard to be performing at an old folks home for free. He knows it, I know it; hell, not even my grandson would play this gig these days. I heard Ben’s performing now, can you believe that? He’s taking right after my Richard. Remarkable.”
“Hold on. Last time? Was there a disagreement between you two?”
Harold’s smile shifted to something else when he said, “Ethan, you told me the news yourself.”
Dr. Hill swallowed and exhaled through his nose. “I also told you there are options. You have time.”
“That’s alright, just—enjoy this moment with me now while we can, hm?”
“You’re forgetting ‘please’ again.”
Ethan sighed. “You say that like one word could change your mind.”
Painfully predictably, with the nip of an early winter’s kiss, the couple spent their last moments together comforting each other.
Ethan cursed, “Oh, it isn’t fair! After everything we went through to finally get here? We were just—!”
“Shh,” Harold soothed. “Don’t waste your breath. Kiss me instead.”
Ethan sniffed, then obliged.
Then Harold Ward delivered his last words, and felt lighter than air.
