He heard a chorus of “for she’s a jolly good fellow,” as he approached the cracked glass table and deposited the two cakes. He breathed a sigh of relief and wiped the beginnings of sweat from his forehead as he was clapped on the back by Mario.
“I would have asked you if you needed help, but we all know how much you like doing s**t on your own,” Mario said to him.
Simon gave him an awkward, sideways glance before bending down and kissing his mother, seated on a rusty metal chair, on the forehead.
“Happy retirement, Moms,” Simon said.
“Thank you, love,” his mother said, leaning back and stretching her face up so she could reach around and hug him around his neck. He reciprocated and then stepped back to let the flood of people envelope his mother, giving her their warmest wishes.
Simon
