It'll Make Sense in the End

Saturday, 25 December 2021

Saturday, 25 December 2021

"You're not ... Mrs. Seong." Markus furrowed his brows. That's kind of a rude observation on this day and age. "I'm her son. Can I help you?" The youth was carrying a box. A box gift-wrapped in beautiful laurel green tissue paper and crimson ribbon. "For my mother?" he asked, pointing at the gift.

"Uh, ah, yes," they blurted, clearing their throat, "please, uh, send my—no, err, it's not for her! It's for her but it's not. It's—she told me her youngest son's birthday is today and this is actually for him."

Markus' eyebrows shot up. "This is for me?"

"Oh!" Their surprised noise couldn't be more faker. He eyed them and noticed an acrylic 'Wheaton's Trinkets' tag on their shirt. Wheaton's Trinket, where have I heard that? "Happy birthday, sir."

"Thanks," he said as he accepted the gift. "How long have you known my mother?"

"Pardon, sir?"

"You talk about my mother in a manner like you know her."

"... I've known her a while, sir."

"Call me Markus." He hated the whole 'sir' and 'mister'—too formal. Plus, he was getting tired of Katherine Pear addressing him that way for the last four to five months.

"I have to go, sir. Send my apologies to Mrs. Seong, sir, please. Bedankt."

"Who is it, Markus?" his mother said as he walked to the kitchen. "My birthday gift, apparently," he replied with a brief shake of the gift box. "Oh, tell her to come in!" Mother said. "She works for that girl that I've been trying to set you up with." Right, Wheaton's Trinkets and Tableware. His Mother told him about 'this Doyle' owning that business. "Mother, I don't want to be set up with anyone," he put the gift on the counter, tugging the ribbon. "It's ridiculous, I'm old enough to find someone on my own will."

"Oh, I know," Mother sighed, "but I made enough poffertjes to share with that young girl. Can you please come get her? She couldn't have gone far since she uses a bicycle." Mother gave him the sad eyes and so Markus let out a heavy sigh, saying, "Alright."

He didn't bother to put on a jacket. It wasn't that cold. Markus wore the flip-flops left on the porch and checked left and right, hoping to see a tiny dot of that person. He did. She had stopped few houses down on the right. Markus jogged to her way before pausing.

His sight faltered to the person coming out of the house, waving at the delivery girl. They were such a beautiful sight. Markus' chest warmed up at the person's smile. No, remember what Mother told you! He was on an errand to get the delivery girl back to Mother. "You! Delivery girl," Markus said as he reached close enough to them. "My mother said you're having breakfast with us."

She faltered on her bicycle. "Err—"

"Excuse me, who are you?" the person from the house asked, moving to stand between him and the delivery girl.

"Nari Seong's son. Delivery girl here is—"

"Delivery girl has a name," the person cut him, those green eyes piercing him, "she's Kate. Which son are you, the eldest or the youngest?"

Did this person know his mother, too? "Why do you ask?" Markus scowled when the person scrunched their face. "Talk again," the person said. "What?" Something's wrong with this person, Markus was sure of it. "Say 'Of Dismal Souls' for me." Markus tensed.

"Did you hear me on the radio the other day?" He doubted anyone actually listen to radio these days. Everything was always podcast, e-news, vlog. Who even listened to radio these days? Old people, he's assuming. People as old as his parents. How old was this person?