Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet by Jamie Ford Read Free Book Online Page A

flowers.

    Putting his umbrella away, and ignoring the fine Seattle mist, he opened his wallet and took out a small white envelope. On the front was the Chinese character for Lee--Ethel's last name for the last thirty-seven-plus years. Inside had been a piece of hard candy and a quarter. The small envelopes were passed out as he left the Bonney-Watson Funeral Home, where Ethel's memorial service had been held. The candy was so that everyone leaving would taste sweetness--not bitter. The quarter was for buying more candy on the way home--a traditional token of lasting life and enduring happiness.

    Henry remembered savoring the candy a small peppermint. But he didn't feel like stopping at the store on the way home. Marty ironically argued that they honor this tradition, but Henry refused.

    "Take me home" was all he said when Marty slowed down near the South Gate Grocery.

    Henry couldn't bear the thought of spending that quarter. That was all he had left of Ethel. His enduring happiness would have to wait. He'd save it--keeping it with him, always.

    He thought about that happiness, reaching into the small envelope he carried with him every day, drawing out the quarter. It was unremarkable--a normal coin anyone would spend on a phone call or a cup of bad coffee. But to Henry it was a promise of something better.

    Henry remembered the day of Ethel's service. He'd arrived early, to meet with Clarence Ma, the funeral director assigned to his family. A kindly man in his sixties, prone to talking about his own bodily ailments, Clarence was the patron saint of all things funerary when it came to Chinatown. Each neighborhood had its own advocate. The stately walls of the Bonney-Watson Funeral Home were covered with their framed photos--a United Nations of ethnically diverse funeral directors.

    "Henry, you're early--something I can do for you?" Clarence said, looking up from his desk, where he'd been stuffing the coins and candy into envelopes as Henry walked by.

    "Just wanted to check the flowers," Henry replied, heading into the chapel where a large portrait of Ethel sat surrounded by flower arrangements of various sizes.

    Clarence caught up to him, placing his arm on his shoulder. "Beautiful, isn't it?"
    Henry
    nodded.

    "We made sure to place your flowers right next to her picture--she was a lovely woman, Henry. I'm sure she's in a happier place, but hardly one as beautiful." Clarence handed Henry a small white envelope. "In case you don't remember after the service--take it, just in case."

    Henry felt the quarter inside. He held the envelope to his nose and could smell the peppermint among the wet, fragrant scents of the floral-filled room. "Thank you" was all he could muster.

    Now, standing in the misty rain of Lake View Cemetery, Henry touched the envelope to his nose again. He couldn't smell a thing.

    "I'm sorry I haven't been here as often as I should have," he apologized. He held the quarter in his hand, putting the envelope in his pocket. He listened to the sound of the wind blowing through the trees--never really expecting an answer, but always open to the possibility.

    "I have some things I need to do. And, well, I just wanted to come by and tell you first. But, you probably know all this." Henry's attention drifted to the marker next to Ethel's--it was his parents'. Then he looked back to where Ethel lay. "You always knew me so well."

    Henry brushed the graying hair from his temples, wet from the drizzly rain.

    "I'm getting by. But I'm worried about Marty. I've always worried about him. I guess I'd ask that you look out for him--me, I can look out for myself I'll be okay."

    Henry looked around to see if anyone might be watching him having this odd, one-way conversation. He was all alone--he wasn't even sure if Ethel was listening. It was one thing to talk to her at home, where she'd lived. But out here, in the cold ground next to his parents, she was certainly gone. Still, Henry had needed to come out to say