Ashes Under the Willow Tree

I took a deep breath, lifted my chin, and decided to cremate my son without telling her.

Jennifer had already cast this family aside. I had no reason to keep dragging things out with her.

After the cremation, I would take my son back to my hometown. Before that, I had three days to deal with everything he left behind.

Today was the first.

…

When I left the hospital, I carried two documents with me. One was my son's death certificate. The other was the cremation application.

I could not let my child remain alone in a place far from home. I would take him back with me. Back to the home that had once existed before Jennifer hollowed it out.

Jennifer came home at 7:00 p.m. that day. She wore a sharp military-green uniform and carried a teal cloth bag.

The moment she saw me, she set the bag down as if it belonged there and said, "Wash the clothes in that bag tomorrow. Phil is raising a kid on his own. It's hard for him. Help him out a little."

I almost laughed. Why was it my job to ease her childhood sweetheart's burden just because she felt sorry for him?

I was about to refuse when she spoke again. "Where is our son? Isn't he home?"

She looked around the house, puzzled. My chest tightened. I was still searching for an excuse when she began issuing orders again. "If he's not here, pack a few of his clothes. I'll take them to Phil's place. They just got back from Androva. They didn't bring enough. Tommy can wear our son's things for now."

When I did not move, she walked straight into my son's room, opened the wardrobe, and began pulling out the neatly folded clothes.

She frowned as she sorted through them. "This one isn't new enough. This one has a patch. This one is ugly."

One by one, every piece of clothing she had never bothered to notice before suddenly had a flaw. None of them were good enough for Phillip's son.

I turned away quickly and wiped the tears from the corner of my eye. When I looked back, she had already thrown the clothes across the floor.

"What are you doing? Don't touch my son's things!" The scream tore out of me before I could stop it. I rushed forward and shoved her away.

Jennifer stumbled back a step. Her face darkened. "Have you lost your mind, Andrew? They're just clothes. It's not like they're anything special. Once you wash Phil's clothes, I'll give these back to our son. Isn't that enough?"

She pushed past me and started toward the door.

She did not notice the clothes under her boots. One dirty footprint after another stamped across them. Each step felt like it landed on my heart. I barely had time to feel angry.

"Wait."

Jennifer turned back, impatience written all over her face. "Are you done yet?"

My hand hung at my side as my fingers slowly curled into a fist. Then I pulled the papers I had prepared from the drawer. "In a few days, I'm taking our son back to my hometown for a visit. Sign this dependent travel authorization."

She looked at me with suspicion. "Isn't he about to start school? Why is he suddenly going back home?"

I picked at my fingers to keep them from shaking and seized the first excuse that came to mind. "A relative passed away. I'm taking him back to pay respects."

Jennifer froze for a moment. Then she signed the paper without even reading it. "Fine. Stay a few extra days if you want. There's no need to hurry back."

I lowered my eyes so she would not see how red they were. "Okay."

Of course I would stay a few extra days. Better yet, I would never come back. That way, she could pursue her true love without a single thing holding her back.

I blinked hard, forced the tears down, and walked Jennifer to the door.

Just before she left, she seemed to remember something. She stopped, reached into her pocket, and held out two milk candies.

I froze. Then I took them from her hand. They were still warm from her body heat.

For one weak, foolish second, warmth stirred in my chest. I almost told her that our son was dead.

Then she said, "I bought them for Tommy, but he doesn't like them, so I threw the rest away at the hospital. I only had these two left in my pocket. Give them to Cyrus. No point wasting them."

In an instant, that faint warmth turned colder than before.

I did not look at her again as I shut the courtyard gate in her face.

…

On the second day, I went to the crematorium alone and saw my son off on his final journey.