Chapter Twelve:
May 10 1964
Seymour shuttered at the thought of how often he passed this spot not knowing it's significance. A quick trip to the store, going to eat at Shmedrick's, or even a simple stroll. She'd been here the whole time.
The gate was rusty and nearly falling off its hinges. It made an eerie screech as he pushed it open. None of the graves were fancy or contained much more than a date or a name, but they were all once people with families too. He silently let go of the gate and began down one row surveying all the while. There was garbage and debris everywhere. Nothing nice ever belonged on Skid Row. After several passes through rows he found it. It was just as small as all the others and bore no outstanding traits. It made no difference to anyone, but it did to him. Getting down on his knees he traced the writing with his hands.
Alana Floretta Krelborn
April 4 1920 - September 23 1940
He remembered the flowers and placed them at the base. The pink carnations shined so vibrantly against the grey stone and grass that wasn't quite green. He relaxed and sat down crossing his legs and facing the grave.
Hi ma, he thought, Uhh, Happy Mother's day. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to visit, I didn't know where to find you. I'm Seymour by the way, but you knew that already. I would've really liked to have met you. I've always wondered what you were like.
His eyes trailed to the flowers leaning against the grave.
I bet you liked plants! I found the carnation you were holding when… I like plants too! It's my job actually. I work down at Mushnik's Skid Row Florist. I like the flowers a lot but I have a real liking to the weird plants. I have a collection, you should see it. And I'm gonna discover one of my own someday.
He exhaled a small humorless laugh at his unrealistic optimism and shook his head.
I grew up in the Boy's Home you took me to. He continued, I've thought of it as the best unlucky thing that could've happened. Gee, I don't even wanna think about what would've happened otherwise. After that I went straight to work. Mr. Mushnik actually took me in, ma. What happened was when I was 9 I broke a vase in his shop. He told me I had to work the day to pay it off and I guess I did an okay job sweeping because a few years later I came back and he hired me. He gave me a job and a warm place to sleep. I'm forever grateful. I guess that's another good unlucky thing, huh.
He closed his eyes and took a breath before continuing.
Oh! I met a girl ma!
Blushing, he tucked his chin in his collar.
I mean, she's not mine. She's too good for me so she probably never will be. But I dunno ma, she makes me really happy. She's my best friend. She's the one who pushed me to write to the New York state archives to find you. Wasn't that thoughtful of her? I bet you'd like her, she's fantastic. She works at the florist with me and likes green things. I just wish she were happier. I showed her the picture I found of you in the records. She thinks you were beautiful. I think so too. Mr. Stanley was right, we do look similar. I don't know who my dad is but I bet we don't share any similarities at all. I mean… at least I hope not.
A breeze picked up, knocking the carnations over and rolling them slightly to the left. His eyes followed and fell on the grave that was there. At first he jumped at what he saw until he noticed the dates and realized it was impossible. He laughed at his own ignorance and moved closer to that grave as well.
Seymour Nathaniel Krelborn
December 30 1888 - February 23 1938
A loving father
Oh! His face lit up and he moved his eyes to his mother's grave. Seymour! I see what you did there, ma. I like it.
He divided the arrangement and placed half in front of the new gravestone.
Hi Grandpa. Gee, I didn't know you'd be here too. This is a nice surprise. I'm Seymour, just like you! I don't have a middle name, but Nathaniel sure is nice.
The weather wasn't perfect. In fact it was quite brisk for May. There was a grey overcast and it felt like a strong mist was in the air, threatening rain at any moment. But Seymour didn't care. He was there with his family. He began to pick some grass, nervously fidgeting it with his fingers.
What I really came here to say was… I'm sorry.
He bit his lip and tried to blink back tears, impatiently ripping at the grass harder.
I'm sorry for what I did ma. If I wasn't here you would be. You gave your life for me and some life I've lived, right?
He blubbered and drew his knees into his chest hiding his face.
I'm a shop hand ma. I sweep the floors of an old forgotten shop open to close every day. Bet you're glad you gave up your life for that, huh! I've never even left Skid Row! Pathetic as I am, Audrey would never love me back, why would she?
He put his hands over his face and continued to cry.
I'm nothing, just like Mr. Mushnik said, and he's right ma. You're dead because of a nothin'.
Suddenly the breeze around him immediately ceased. The sun momentarily broke loose from the clouds and illuminated his back with warmth. And Seymour felt the unmistakable feeling of someone placing a hand on his shoulder for just a moment and it was gone. He knew what it meant though. He lifted his head and a smile spread across his face, still wet with tears. He glanced behind him already knowing no one would be there. He pulled himself off the ground and moved forward, pressing his palms on the top of his mother's grave.
I love you too, ma. Someday I'll make you proud of your boy.
If you prefer the directors cut/play ending you can stop right here. However, if you are as sad as I am right now, there's two more chapters.
Author's note: There's a hidden ode to the stories "The Big Day" and "Through Julie's Eyes" here. Shout out to S. Snowflake for writing those amazing fics, and shout out to you too if you caught the reference.
Credit to Howard Ashman, Alan Menken and Aladdin for "Proud of your boy"
