I pulled a plastic bag from the bike basket. Inside: three pieces of chocolate and a few pages of sheet music, rain-soaked and yellowed. The chocolate had started to melt.
I set them in front of the mound and reached out to pull up the new weeds around it.
"Lily, Mom's here."
I sat on the gravelly ground and stroked the dirt with my crippled right hand.
"Still no money for a cake this year. Mom's useless."
The wind blew.
I tugged at the corner of my mouth and unfolded the sheet music.
"Mom will play piano for you, okay? There's no piano, but Mom remembers the score."
I lifted my hand and pressed down into empty air.
No piano sound—just the faint click of my finger joints moving.
I'd only played two measures when sharp pain shot through my right hand. My fingers curled up.
"Mom's hand hurts. I'll stop here for today."
I dropped my head onto my knees. My tears smashed into the dirt.
My phone rang.
I looked at the familiar-yet-unfamiliar number and answered.
"Alex Henson." Marcus's voice came through. "I'm giving you thirty minutes. Show up at Bluewater Villa. Otherwise, I'll tear down that auto repair shop and make sure your foreman can't work in Rongcheng for the rest of his life."