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“Hey, Sin? How about we play a little game while we work?” Mort glanced over at the tall, hunched figure as they worked on cleaning headstones. By now, Mort was almost finished with a large, ornate cross-shaped one he he’d been working on for a while. He thoroughly scrubbed its surface with the brush he borrowed from Sin, chipping away at dirt and debris. It had been one in need of a good clean too – he put in more work here than he did at his actual job in the studio, probably!
“… Mort, do I look like I’m one for games?” Sin asked rather gruffly as he glanced up, their eyes meeting momentarily, before the older cat resumed his work. The two hadn’t spoken in a while, though Mort hadn’t kept track of the time. All he knew was that it had to be past midnight already. November had come out swinging with the cold, icy breezes cutting through the cemetery and chilling Mort to the bone. And that was even when he wore his warm coat.
He’d tried his best to get Sin into a pair of boots, but the old cat had refused to the point of telling Mort to go home, if he couldn’t accept that he wouldn’t wear shoes. And so, Mort had relented, letting the older cat go barefoot around the cemetery. All Mort could hope for was that Sin would at least wear shoes in winter, or he’d get frostbite, most likely.
“Well, it’s nothing elaborate, I promise,” Mort said defensively as he too resumed working. He brushed along the underside of the horizontal part of the cross. “I just… ask you a question, you answer and then you ask me one. How’s that sound?”
Sin didn’t immediately respond, but when he did he just gave Mort a vague sort of grumble. The younger cat took that as approval to play – at the very least it didn’t sound like an outright rejection. Mort didn’t know too much about Sin, outside of his favorite color, the fact that he enjoyed going barefoot and the fact that he’d spent his entire life being a grave-keeper. He knew about the injuries to his right hand, and also why his ears were missing, but aside from that…
“Hmmm, let’s see… When’s your birthday?” the Siamese Cat asked, wanting to start off less personal, hoping it might ease Sin more into the idea of this little game of his.
The Oriental Longhair didn’t reply right away, instead focusing on shining up the letters of a particularly wide headstone. “Well, we never did much to celebrate birthdays in my family. But mine is on October eighth, if you must know.”
“October eighth?” Mort stopped his brushing and looked over. In the glow of his lantern, Sin’s white fur had that golden glow that Mort had become so familiar with – like a star in the dark, an effect that was amplified by his all-black attire. “That was right after we met last month! That means I just missed it…”
Upon hearing that disappointed tone, Sin once more glanced over towards where the younger cat was working. Mort was similarly illuminated by the older cat’s childhood lantern as he sat between the headstones. “No need for that tone – as I said, we never did celebrate birthdays. And besides, I’m sixty-three years old, I’m too old for birthday celebrations.”
“You wouldn’t even let me buy you a drink at Marigold, even if I’m a month late?” the younger cat asked in a polite tone, offering Sin a small smile as their blue eyes met. The older cat just gave a dismissive wave of one of his slender hands.
“No need. It’s already passed – no sense in retroactively celebrating it.” As Sin worked, Mort looked over, patiently waiting for a question of his own. When their eyes met again, Sin raised a gray eyebrow. “… what?”
Mort couldn’t help but chuckle lightly. “Well, if we’re playing the game, it’s your turn to ask me something, right?”
Looking momentarily annoyed, the older cat’s black and gray tail gave a long, slow sideways sweep as he stood up. “Alright, well… when’s your birthday then?”
“February fourth,” Mort said with a smile. In his family, they certainly did celebrate birthdays in a more modern way, even if he knew some people did tend to go a bit overboard with birthdays. “So, I just might invite you to my party, if I throw one.”
The older cat glanced over again, looking less than enthused by the idea of going to a birthday party, but he just gave a soft grumble as he picked up his lantern. Moving over to Mort, he crouched down to inspect his work.
“So, favorite food?” Mort asked as he moved over to give the older cat some room to crouch beside him. The younger cat continued working the stone with his brush, being extra diligent now that Sin was there to watch.
“Well, I don’t mind most foods,” Sin said, giving a rather vague answer. The older cat didn’t comment on Mort’s work, so the younger cat simply took it as a sign that he was doing well enough. When he glanced sideways again, Mort was pleased to see that Sin smiled at him. “But I quite enjoy pasta dishes. What about you?”
The old grave-keeper’s smiles were so rare, so seeing them almost felt like a special treat to Mort. It certainly did make him smile too, and it did make Sin look a lot less intimidating. Not that Mort found him intimidating anymore, of course. “Oh that’s nice! I like pasta, but… Hmmm, I think my favorite food has to be… Meat ‘n Three!”
“And three what exactly?”
“What? Oh, three sides. It’s what we call it back home,” Mort said with a small smile. He chuckled a bit, he hadn’t quite expected to have to explain. When he continued, his native Tennessee accent came out. “Ya’ know, potatoes, corn, that sort’a stuff. Hot chicken too is-”
“Now hold on, isn’t it standard to eat your chicken hot?” Sin asked, cutting in as Mort spoke. Once again, the Siamese was taken completely by surprise. He supposed some terms didn’t quite translate even across state borders.
“It just means spicy,” Mort said with a soft chuckle. All this talk about food was making him miss his family’s home-cooking. “Oh, and I quite enjoy holiday food too! You know, Thanksgiving and Christmas; turkey, stuffing, gravy, potatoes, all that good stuff.”
Mort’s stomach growled slightly as he spoke, the younger cat chuckling. Sin just nodded as the two stood up, leaving the stone cross. “Well, lucky for you, you’ll be getting some of that soon, I suspect.”
“Oh, yeah, Thanksgiving will be here soon, won’t it? Are you going to be with anyone for that?” Mort asked politely as the two walked to the path that would take the two of them back to the entrance to the grounds.
The old cat shook his ghostly white head as the two walked along the lantern lit path. “No, I don’t celebrate Thanksgiving with anyone… or really at all.”
“Oh, well, if you’d like you could always come celebrate it with my family and me – we go back to Tennessee every year,” Mort offered with a smile. He didn’t quite know how his family would take to him turning up with Sin in tow, but he was sure it’d be fine. At the very least Mort hoped he’d be able to send a letter and ask and get a reply back in time. Though seeing as Thanksgiving was weeks away, Mort was sure it could work out.
“I appreciate the offer, but I think I’m best left alone… And besides, I doubt I’m who your family would hope for you to bring home,” the older cat replied, giving one of those rare, deep chuckles of his.
“Oh, if you’re sure… I just hate the idea of you being all lonely whenever I’m not around,” Mort said with a small smile. Walking along the path lined by trees, Mort found that he was getting more used to the cemetery’s layout. While he could probably still get lost in the dark, it felt a lot less daunting to navigate it now, but perhaps that was just because he had Sin to guide him.
Using his free right hand, Sin gave a dismissive wave. “Don’t worry about that. I don’t get lonely; I’ve lived on my own since my parents passed, and I don’t plan on starting now.”
“Of course, of course,” Mort said with a cheeky smile. He did indeed know how Sin felt. Mort rarely ever felt lonely up in his little radio tower, perhaps because he was always either on the air or he was asleep. He did enjoy his job, and being on the air, talking to… well, himself did make it feel less lonely. Sometimes he even had letters from readers to read on the air, which made it feel interactive. Mort smiled to himself. It wasn’t like Sin would understand that; he was well aware of the older cat’s thoughts on things like his radio show.
“But I still wanted to offer. You’ve been so good to me since we met, after all,” Mort said with a bright smile, his blue eyes reflecting red light from the lantern’s glow, much like Sin’s paler blue ones did. The Siamese cat’s tail gave a small flick. “And if I remember correctly, you did buy me two drinks during Halloween, so that means that I owe you…”
“Surely a drink will do – taking me to a Thanksgiving dinner for that is a bit excessive,” the hunched Oriental Longhair pointed out, looking down at Mort as they walked together. Clearing the trees, they walked towards the gate of the cemetery together, the wind a bit harsher out here in the open. They’d been relatively sheltered between the trees.
“I guess, I guess… Thank you for letting me stay over that night, by the way – it was nice,” the younger cat added hurriedly, his ears giving a small flick. He’d spent the night in Sin’s guestroom, which apparently used to be his childhood bedroom. As such, it had been by far the smallest of the bedrooms, at least as far as Mort could tell. He’d only seen Sin’s for comparison. The last door upstairs hadn’t been opened, nor was it any of Mort’s business, which the younger cat of course knew.
“My pleasure. It was the easiest way to go about things with that damned car…” the old cat grumbled. Another cold November wind blew past, ruffling their fur, especially the beige fur on Mort’s forehead, his dark gray ears and Sin’s black cheek fur.
“Well, speaking of the damned car,” Mort said playfully as they passed through the cemetery’s gate, which Sin promptly closed and locked. “I’ll be driving home tonight, but when would you like me to stop by again? I can definitely come and see you again before Thanksgiving. And you know I’ll gladly do it.”
The tall, hunched cat looked surprised by the eagerness in Mort’s voice. His icy blue eyes looked the younger man over curiously, as if trying to figure out if he was bluffing or not. “Well, you’re welcome to stop by anytime you’d like. But I can still manage by myself. Perhaps next week. There are a few things that need doing before winter arrives.”
“Sounds good,” the younger cat said with a smile as the two of them headed towards Sin’s humble home. Even if the idea of spending the night was a tempting one, Mort hadn’t recorded anything in advance for the next day – he needed to be present in the morning to broadcast. He was guaranteed to get at least a few hours of sleep, but he could always sleep after the show.
Once they reached Sin’s home, Mort put out the small lantern he carried, the one that had belonged to Sin. As he handed it off to the older cat, thin, but strong fingers brushed his momentarily. “Is there anything else you need help with now that I’m here?”
“No, I think you’ve done plenty tonight. I do appreciate having you here,” Sin replied, offering Mort yet another of those rare smiles the younger cat liked so much. It was still hard to imagine that he’d once been startled by seeing this tall cat. When he smiled, he was a lot more inviting, and Mort would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy his company.
When Sin held out his right hand for Mort to shake, the younger cat chuckled, earning him a raised eyebrow as the two stood in the light from just Sin’s lantern. “What?”
“Oh, nothing,” Mort said, taking that white-furred hand with his own. He gave it a gentle squeeze. “I just find it funny that you insist on such a formal gesture.”
Sin fixed him with a curious look, but said nothing. Mort’s deep blue eyes glanced down at Sin’s hand, gently turning it sideways after they stopped shaking. Once Sin’s palm was facing down, Mort’s eyes curiously glanced over the scarring where Sin’s middle finger had once been. “Well, I still want to be proper. Can I have my hand back now?”
Mort gave a slight start at the sound of Sin’s voice, cheeks warmer than normal as he let go of the older male’s thin hand. “Oh, sorry… Ahem, I don’t mind, of course. I just like to think we’re a bit closer than that. Or should I go back to using Mr. Chezk instead?”
The older cat grumbled and opened the door to his home, before stepping inside. The lantern was put out and the lights inside were turned on. The tall, hunched grave-keeper turned towards the radio host who waited on his doorstep. “No need to go that far. But I too would consider you a friend by now. Or at least a good assistant.”
As the older cat chuckled in that deep voice of his, Mort beamed at him. “Good, I do my best to help. I’ll see you next week, alright? I can just drop by whenever I’d like, right?”
“Of course. You know where I’ll be if I’m not home. I’ll leave the lantern out back for you. Do have a good night, Mort.” Sin reached a hand up to ruffle the fur on top of Mort’s head. The younger cat smiled at Sin, a smile that the older cat returned.
“You too, Sin. I’ll see you real soon,” the younger cat promised, smiling till the door slid all the way shut with a soft click. Turning, the young Siamese walked back towards the black car he borrowed from Marigold and got in. He cast a last look at Sin’s home and smiled. Through the windows, he could see the tall figure moving around in there, a silhouette against the warm light. Just seeing Sin had become such a comforting sight.
Starting the engine, Mort set the car into motion and started rolling down the unpaved path that would take him back on the main road. Humming a quiet tune in the night, Mort let the bright headlights shine his way through the dark, much like Sin’s lanterns did when they were together.