Blog #9 - A Goodbye

The day started with Herman waking up early to begin the final chapter of his book.

He and ClaraJean had now read several large-font novels.

"You should paint trees today," Herman told Oliver when he came over to walk Johnny.

"That sounds great. Walk with me, and we can study them!"

After looping around the city, Herman and Oliver arrived back at The Maitland to see a large crowd gathered. The onlookers were murmuring, and Herman heard "Edgar" and "dead". Then, he realized that people were pointing up towards the towers, where a blue-looking silhouette stood near the edge.

"It sounds like they've solved the mystery," Oliver remarked. "Poor Mr. Evans. Killed because of some feud between two brothers."

"Indeed," Herman agreed. "But what's going on at the tower?"

"I have no idea," Oliver said, gazing intently at the figure.

The mumbling within the crowd slowly turned into a hush, and Herman could hear a woman whistling along with the birds.

All of a sudden, bright red flowers floated in front of Herman, and Sayori came dashing after them. She accidentally hit Herman, and he fell to the ground, his hip pounding the asphalt.

"Are you okay?" Oliver asked at once.

Herman grimaced, biting his cheek against the pain. A single tear fought its way out of his eye as he shook his head.

"Help!" Oliver shouted, but nobody turned, so Oliver took Herman to the hospital himself.

Herman was helped into a faded blue gown, and the doctor promptly examined his hip.

"You're lucky it wasn't worse, but surgery is definitely needed. Then, you'll require bed rest. I'll help you explore assisted living facilities."

"No!" Herman protested.

"I'll take care of him," Oliver immediately offered.

"No, Oliver, you deserve your own life. I will live with one of my children."

"But what about my lessons?"

"You're already an artist. There's nothing more I can teach you that you don't already understand."

"You can't leave me!" Oliver sobbed.

"I won't really be gone. Think of me each time you paint a sunrise, and I'll be there, on the horizon, guiding you. Someday, you'll understand why I must leave now. I want the sunset to be your own."

Before Herman went into surgery, he thanked Oliver for his hard work and help. Then, he thought of Ruth and asked her if he had made the right choice in setting Oliver free.

Blog #8 - A Chance Encounter

Herman woke with a start and was shocked to see his breath suspended in the air. He touched his hands to his cheeks and realized his skin felt frozen. As he stepped out of bed, letting his bare feet touch the floor, waves of fiery ice pulsed through his legs and pierced straight through to his heart. As he reached the kitchen, he realized that the window was still open. The evening before, a gentle springtime breeze blew through town, but this morning, Herman saw a fresh coat of snow sparkling in the sunlight.

Once he shut the window and fed Johnny, all Herman wanted was to return under his covers, but he remembered his appointment with Dr. Beal and knew that his daughter would be disappointed if failed to attend. He bundled up in all his coats and taped a note to the door asking Oliver to walk Johnny. The halls were quiet, but the silence outside was deafening. Herman struggled to walk a few blocks when he realized he needed some coffee for strength. Looking around, he saw just one café open, so he headed inside.

Only one customer was sitting in the warm shop, reading from a tattered paperback. After ordering, Herman sat near her and decided to talk.

"Hello," he greeted. "Cold day, isn't it? What brings you out? I'm Herman Marshall, by the way."

The older woman jumped up in her seat, startled by Herman's voice. She had counted on being alone today.

"I'm ClaraJean Mallory, and I came here because I thought I would be the only one," she said pointedly.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Herman apologized as he got up awkwardly from his seat.

"No, I'm sorry," ClaraJean recovered. "Sorry, ever since my husband died, it's so much harder to be in public."

"I understand," Herman sympathized, "my own wife died just a few years ago. I probably wouldn't be out here now if it weren't for my persistent children."

ClaraJean's eyes clouded over at the mention of children, and she quickly changed the subject.

"Do you like to read?" she asked, showing Herman her book.

"Yes, that's one of my favorites. I have to go to the doctor now, but if you're ever interested in discussing books or having coffee, please let me know."

Herman gave her his address.

"Bye, ClaraJean. It was excellent meeting you!"

It no longer felt so cold outside.

Blog #7 - A Sunrise

Herman was sipping coffee when sunlight streamed through the window. The birds chirped in response to the pink and orange glow, and the flowers on his windowsill peeked out of the moist brown soil. Thoroughly energized, Herman fed Johnny and left his apartment to go to the roof. Despite his sessions with Dr. Beal, he still had lingering joint pain, but he moved easily this morning. When he finally breathed in the crisp air, he felt overcome by a calm he had not felt in years. Herman decided he would have Oliver paint a sunrise in his next lesson.

A few others came to the roof, and they all watched the sky in contemplative awe when suddenly Herman felt exhaustion rush through his body. His knees buckled underneath his weight. All he wanted to do was return to bed.

An hour later, Herman was still making his way back to his apartment. When he finally opened the door, he saw Oliver playing with Johnny.

"Herman!" Oliver called excitedly. "I was wondering where you went. I walked Johnny, but I decided to wait for you to return. I was hoping maybe I could have a lesson today."

"Not today. Thanks for walking Johnny, though."

Herman immediately regretted speaking when he saw the grin disappear from Oliver's face. He had never refused a lesson before.

"I'm sorry, Oliver, but I'm too tired today. It's like I've been drugged."

"Let me help you, then," Oliver decided.

"There's nothing you can do," Herman admitted. "I just need to sleep."

Herman returned to his bedroom and drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Meanwhile, Oliver stayed in the kitchen. He had already finished his homework in the hope that he would have a lesson, so he had no reason to go home. Instead, he studied Herman's paintings. He was immediately drawn to one depicting an ethereal sunrise over a choppy ocean. Since the paint and brushes were out from his last lesson, Oliver thought he would try to make his own sunrise.

Hours later, Herman emerged from his nap, and Oliver paused from his work. Herman was still feeling sluggish until he saw Oliver's sunrise, and like this morning, he felt energy course through his veins.

"Tomorrow, I'll give you a real lesson, Oliver, but you really don't need me at all."

"No," Oliver affirmed, "I could not do any of this without you."

Blog #6 - A Memory

Herman's ringing alarm clock jolted him out of deep sleep. He reached for his glasses, but they could not clear his vision from the fog that had impregnated his apartment. Herman picked up the newspaper as he began to prepare breakfast. Herman stared at the text, trying to make out the words, when he saw the date: January 11th, 2013. Suddenly, he felt the fog seep through his eyes and ears, and when the sensation passed, he saw his wife, Ruth, gazing at him from across the table.

"Herman, dear," she croaked, "could you make me another cup of tea?" She gestured to her walker to indicate that she would do it herself if she could.

"Of course," he replied, already filling the kettle.

"It's quite the foggy day," Ruth remarked. "It reminds me of the summers we spent in Maine when we were younger."

"Those were the most perfect days," Herman agreed. "Of course, there was nothing more beautiful than watching the blue sea and sky blend together, but the fog was special. It made me feel like there was nothing else in the world except for us and the crashing waves."

"Remember how we would read during those endless days? We devoured book after book. I miss that."

The whistling kettle pulled Herman and Ruth from their memories.

"Let's do it," Herman decided.

"What?"

"Spend the day like we did back when we were young, reading and carefree."

A slight smile crept across Ruth's face, but it quickly faded.

"But Herman, you know I can't do that anymore." Ruth gulped, then proceeded, "you must remember that I'm dying."

"That doesn't give you any permission to stop living, dear. I'll go to the library and find the most adventuress book we haven't read, and then I'll read it to you. It won't be the same as before, but it'll be better."

Herman placed the tea down beside Ruth's trembling hand, lightly kissed the top of her head and put on his coat by the door.

"I'll be back soon!" Herman called as he left.

In the halls, Herman heard the others murmuring about Ether Maitland's murder, but Herman was too preoccupied to gossip. In thirty minutes, he was back with the book.

Herman and Ruth read late into the night until they saw the fog clear and fell asleep.

The next morning, Herman awoke with Johnny by his side.

Blog #5 - A Wish

Herman regretted telling Lamar about Sayori Fuji creeping around outside of Mr. Evans' room. Now, anytime he ran into Lamar, he was interrogated about what he saw. As much as Herman wanted to find the killer, he was growing tired of the murder obsession. For weeks, the newspaper headlines were variations on the same tune: "New witnesses investigated in Evans murder," "New lead in Maitland tragedy," "Possible murder weapon identified," yet there were never any real updates. Even his children quizzed him each time he called and offered their own perspectives. He debated attending his appointments with Dr. Beal -- he felt remarkably less sore and more agile, but the waiting room debates about Mr. Evans were growing intolerable. Herman wanted to remember his quiet and caring friend, not hear conspiracy theories that gentle Mr. Evans was a leader in the mafia.

Luckily, Oliver was equally as uninterested in discussing Mr. Evans. Herman was also relieved to find that Oliver disdained the Savannah Silva movie, and the two instead discovered common ground in painting. Initially, Oliver came over a couple times a day to walk Johnny, but he was so interested in Herman's artwork and stories that he stayed for longer each visit. 

"If you want, I can give you painting lessons," Herman offered as Oliver was leaving to go home. 

"Really?" Oliver was amazed. He had never had much time to pursue hobbies; he had been working since he was able. "That would be incredible! I'll walk Johnny for free."

"No, of course I will still pay you," Herman laughed, as if the thought was hilarious. "You'll be doing me a favor. I can't paint anymore, but I'd love to teach you. It'll be better than painting myself. You can start tomorrow evening."

"That would be great. Thank you so much!" As Oliver left, he shook his head in wonder, surprised by his good fortune. 

Herman was struck by Oliver's raw talent. For a boy so toned and strong, he held the brush delicately, and his deft strokes across the canvas conveyed emotion it had taken Herman years to master. When Oliver left, he heard about the stargazing on the roof and went back for Herman. The crowd was hushed by the beautiful shooting star, but it was when Herman saw Oliver's twinkling eyes that he wished he would be a good enough teacher for his new protégé.