Happy Birthday Papa

Casanova glanced towards the calendar on the wall, scanning through the days that have already passed. The turn of the year was almost two weeks ago, and most of the New Year festivities have died down. He was more interested in a more important day, however, and he brushed his fingers across the day he had drawn a star in. January 14th is now only two days away, the day of his papa's birthday. It's been over a year since he had last seen him, or had last been in his presence. This time, he felt like visiting him in person. He couldn't wait to be with him again, for he had a lot to tell him. 

Parting from the calendar, he went towards the closet and pulled out a small suitcase from the back corner and began packing a few clothes. He didn't need much; the most he would want to stay is for two, maybe three days. He would go by his uncle, spend some time there, then go see his papa on his birthday. Once the clothes were in, Casanova packed the essential items. He was done in no time, since he wasn't going to carry much, and didn’t have much possessions himself anyway. He had just zipped the mini suitcase shut when he heard the door open.

Helix, his roommate and lover, walked in the room, and his face lit up when he saw Casanova. “Ohh there you are Casa!” He exclaimed cheerfully, suggesting that he had been looking for him. His eyes then wandered towards the mini suitcase and his smile faltered just a little. “W-where are you going?” 

Casanova pointed towards the calendar, and Helix turned his head to look. “...papa’s birthday...is soon.” Casanova spoke, rolling the suitcase towards the side of the bed. He sat on the edge of the bed next to it. 

“Ohh okaaay,” Helix said, closing the door behind him. He walked over to Casanova and sat down next to him, but suddenly realizing something, he turned to face him. “But wait… i-isn’t he-”

He was cut short by Casanova placing his finger upon his lips, and his soft stare down on him. Breathing in deeply, Casanova sighed, then stood up and went towards the closet once more to find his thick winter coat and gear. “I’ll… still go see him,” he said.

“I… I see,” Helix replied, playing with his fingers. “Do you want me to go with you too?” He asked.

Having donned his coat, Casanova paused, thinking about that offer, In the end, he shook his head, and put on his hat and gloves. “No...It’s okay. I… want to be with him… alone.” He finished getting dressed and grabbed his suitcase handle. “Well I’m… going to go now….”

“Oh but Casa,” Helix started, “What about work? What would the boss say about this?”

“Boss… would understand,” he replied, glancing towards the door.

“Are you sure? What if he wouldn’t-”

Once again Helix was cut off from speaking, this time with Casanova’s lips upon his own in a gentle kiss. Stunned, Helix stared back at him wide eyed, until Casanova pulled away and rose his hand to stroke his lover's cheek. “See you… in a few days….” He says, before standing back up and walking out of the room, the suitcase rolling smoothly behind him. Helix couldn't do anything but stare at his back as he left.

Casanova took the elevator to the garage level, and located his car; a modern modelled and popular brand that his uncle had got custom made for him for his longer than average legs. He packed the suitcase in the back seat, then sat in the driver's seat to rev it up. He then started to drive towards the garage exit, then towards the outer road away from his workplace and dorm. Once he drove far enough to have a comfortable position in the roads, he pressed a few commands on the car's touchscreen monitor in the middle of the dashboard, calling his uncle. He picked up after the third ring.

“Casa… is that you…?” his uncle answered in a groggy voice. Casanova realized he had forgotten to take notice of the time difference; where his uncle lived was hours ahead of his own time, and it was past midnight already there. 

“Ah… sorry,” Casanova replied apologetically, “I was just… calling to say that… I'm coming.” 

“Wha...why? All of a sudden why- ohh...” his uncle muttered, and shuffling noises of bedsheets and papers were heard in the background, and by the sound of that “ohh” Casanova concluded that his uncle took notice of the calendar. “Ah I see, I see,” his uncle confirmed, “So, when's your flight? Wait, are you driving?”

“Yes. I'm… driving to the airport now. I'll… call again once I'm booked.” 

“Ahh you should've called after you booked in the first place,” his uncle grumbled, “eh, I'll see of one of the servants are still awake. They'll keep track of you for me.” Casanova heard his uncle yawn then fall back upon his bed; he could hear the thump of the sheets and the slight bounce of the springs. “Well, I'll see you in the morning then.  Or afternoon or whatever.” Casanova told him goodnight then hung up the call, switching his focus on driving again.

A large amount of hours later, Casanova's flight had touched down and he had retrieved his suitcase, walking towards the arrivals area. He spotted one of his uncle's servants waiting for him and he went over. The servant gave his greetings to Casanova and the two of them walked to where the servants car was parked, and they took the long drive to his uncle's very large house. 

Once they reached the house, the two went inside and his uncle greeted them by the door, enveloping him in a warm hug before guiding him inside. Casanova was already familiar with his house before, so he took his stuff upstairs to the usual room he would go to whenever he stayed. From the door to his room he looked down the hallway towards another door near its end. A wave of nostalgia washed over him as he stared at that door, which belonged to his papa. Taking a breath, Casanova went into his own room and made himself comfortable. 

After spending the rest of that day with his uncle and after sleeping in late, Casanova awoke around near noon on the 14th. Once he realized the date, he became more attentive, and started to dress himself quickly. He made his way downstairs where his uncle waited for him, presenting him with a hot breakfast, knowing that Casanova would get up late. 

“You're going to go see him now, right?” his uncle asked once Casanova was done eating. 

“...Yeah. I need to … go into town first though. To… pick up a few things.” He replied, putting his things in the sink. He walked over to where his coat and shoes are and started putting them on. His uncle called one of the servants to go prepare the car for Casanova for him to the into town. 

“Hey,” his uncle spoke, “try and come back before the evening, okay? I’m gonna…,” he took a breath, “I'm gonna grab one of his favorite wines and have a drink with him when you're done, alright?” He gave Casanova a slight smile and Casanova nodded back. 

Once Casanova was ready, he and the servant drove into town. His first stop was into a bakery that he knew well. He normally wasn't into sweet things, but he knew his papa loved the local thick and gooey textured chocolate cake. He bought a slice and had it placed into a special box. He left the bakery and took a walk down the street, glancing at the shops all around him.

The front window of a florist caught his eye, so he walked over and peered through the glass. He saw many colorful bouquets and even more single colored ones lined neatly in rows, waiting to be bought. He entered the shop to take a closer look at them. The shop was small but had a sweet fragrance in the air. The florist, noticing that she had a customer, greeted Casanova.

He slowly moved in front of the bouquet display, inspecting the different types of colors and arrangements of them all. Thinking about deciding to buy one or not, he wanted to find a simple yet meaningful bouquet that would sway his decision. He became lost in thought as he looked, so he didn’t notice the florist come up to him and asked if he wanted some help.

Hearing her voice, Casanova snapped out of it, turning to look at her. :Hello sir, “ she spoke again “I was asking if you wanted some help? You look like you’re having a hard time deciding what to get.”

“Ah...sure,” he replied, shuffling uneasily. 

The florist smiled gently at Casanova. “Now, what’s the occasion, sir?”

“It’s ...a present.”

“Oh okay! For who?”

“Someone… I haven’t seen in… a long time.”

“Ohh,” the florist said softly., then appeared to be thinking of something. After a while, she asked, “Just one more thing,  this person, is it someone close to you? Or someone you care about?”

Casanova looked over at her, slightly surprised at how accurate she seemed to be. All he could do was nod. The florist was content with that. “Here, I think this flower would be a great match for that person.”

She picked a bouquet filled with plenty of pink carnations wrapped in a thick, white decorative paper. “Different types of flowers have their own set of special meanings for certain occasions,” she explains, “and this applies to the color of the flower as well. This pink one has a very special religious backstory to it, but in short, it is a symbol of undying love. In another context, it could be used to say ‘I miss you.’ If that person you're gifting it to was born in January, then it becomes more special, since carnations are like the flower of the month for January, in some places.”

Casanova was fascinated by her explanation. Not only was this new information, since he didn’t know much about the language of flowers, but this specific type and color of flower seemed to be the perfect type for his situation… for his papa. Without additional hesitation he told her that he will buy it, so the two went to the cashier and had their exchange. He thanked the florist with great gratitude before leaving her shop.

Casanova walked back to where the servant and his car was waiting, telling him that he was ready to go see his papa. The servant nodded, and started the engine. Casanova made his way into the back seat, holding his bought items close to him and looked out the window. The car started to move and soon the sights of the town slowly began to die away. 

After what felt like a long time, they finally reached their destination. Casanova caught a glimpse of the big black gates to the entrance of where his papa was being held; he remembered seeing these gates only once before, on the last time he had seen him. The servant parked off to the side of the gate, picking an empty spot, and Casanova left the car, pulling the top of his coat closer towards him. The air was cold, quiet, and unusually calm. He told the servant he would be back within a couple of hours, then turned towards the gated entrance. 

He walked down the paved pathways, glancing at his surroundings, tracing the path he took the first time he came here, over a year ago. The sound of his footsteps and the rustling grass were prominent in his ears. He walked up a hill like slope, taking a couple turned when his memory helped him, and eventually he recognized the area where his papa was. 

He walked a distance, then ran the rest of the way, not wanting to wait a second longer. His breathing shared a rhythm with his pacing, as he kept his eyes glued to one particular object. The wind picked up a little as he approached that object; that marking in the ground that displayed his papa’s location. He then stood right in front of it, then kneeled down in front of it, adjusting his body to sit on his legs. 

He remembered helping his uncle choosing the perfect type of stone; the perfect type of font to engrave his name in; the type of phrasing he knew he would like; the very location he laid in now, upon this hill, closest to where the stars would shine on a clear night. All those important and meaningful decisions looked back at Casanova as he looked upon the object, and traced his fingers across his papa's name.

Over a year has passed since his papa was laid to rest at this very spot.

Casanova placed the boxed cake slice off to the side, then took the bouquet of pink carnations and held it tenderly, before placing it gently in front of the gravestone. He then bent forwards towards the stone, wrapping his arms around it tightly in a warm embrace, and he wore an unusual expression mixed with pain and peacefulness. He turned his head slightly, resting his cheek upon the smooth, cold stone and whispered into it for him to hear;

“Happy birthday, papa.”