For the Love of a Cherry Blossom

It was my final year in the residency program at Johns Hopkins medical center. I was excelling in the program and completely and utterly exhausted. The last year had been grueling. We worked with little to no time off, not to mention, little to no sleep. I pulled my 1978 AMC Pacer into the driveway of the house I was renting even though I knew I was to park on the street in front of the eyesore next door as my landlord put it, so my cheap beater of a car didn’t dampen the curbside appeal of their quaint little bungalow, but they were in Mexico for a week, so what they didn’t know, probably wouldn’t hurt them.

Okay, so technically I was renting the basement apartment of this house, but still that should come with a place to park, shouldn’t it?

In any case, I wasn’t staying long. I just had to run back in and grab my hospital ID. I made my way around the side of the house to the walkway that led to the door of my apartment when I saw Edwin out grumbling at his rose bushes. I had never officially met him, but I had been warned about the “old coot next door” as my landlord had called him upon moving in.

“Hi.” I called out. “I’m Brady.”

No eye contact. No turn of the head. Nothing. I tried a bit louder, “Brady Bennett?”

Maybe he hadn’t heard me, he had to be approaching ninety, so maybe he was hard of hearing?

I stepped closer to the fence separating his property from ours, “I just moved in. You’re… Edwin, Right?”

At the sound of his own name, he angled his head my direction. Narrowing his steely gray eyes, he gave me the once over. After a few moments of awkward silence, he turned back to his rose bushes, “So?” He muttered before giving them one last look of disgust and ambled toward the front of his house.

I stood for a moment watching his retreating form. Okay, so he wasn’t much of a talker. Looking around I noticed that the yard suggested an ancient and far away landscape with its colorful wisteria vines, rock beds and azalea shrubs in all different shades. It was absolutely beautiful. Well, minus the rose bushes, those looked like they had been worked over and then some.

The next morning, I came out my front door and again found Edwin tinkering with his roses.

“Good Morning, Edwin.” I walked up to the fence. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

He eyed me with suspicion. “Why?” He said, and turned back towards his house.

“I don’t know.” No one had ever asked me that before. “I like puzzles, I guess, and you’re kind of a mystery to me.”

“You like puzzles.” He muttered, climbing his front steps.

“Why is he like this?” I muttered under my breath and turned back towards my front door.

“Maybe I’m like this because I don’t need a young jackass like you nosing around in my business.”

My hand paused halfway to the knob, and I smiled. Well, there’s clearly nothing wrong with his hearing.

***

A couple of days later I saw Edwin hauling a bag of mulch across the yard towards the rose bushes. “Can I help you with that?”

“What for?” He barked. “Don’t you think I can handle it?”

Well, actually no, I thought, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.

I looked over to the withering rose bushes, “What happened to these guys?”

He dropped the bag at the bottom of the bushes. “What’s the matter with you?” he snapped, “you can’t see the value of a rose?” He kicked at the bag of mulch with the toe of his shoe. “These are some of my most prized possessions.” His voice took on a softer, more wistful tone, “I’ll admit…they aren’t as pretty as cherry blossoms,” he lifted a bony hand to stoke a velvety petal, “but they are as close as I’ll ever get.”

These Roses looked like they had seen better days, I didn’t know if all the tinkering he does with them or all of the complaining he does at them is what was doing them in, but they were far from what I would consider a Prize Possession.

***

The next morning as I finished my morning run, I noticed Edwin in the yard watching me.

“It’s nice to see you parked in front of your own house for a change.”

I looked over his way. Did he actually just initiate a conversation with me?

“What kind of car is that anyway?”

I looked over my shoulder, “Oh that?” I gave a small laugh and shrugged, “It’s a Rolls.”

“Hmph. That doesn’t look like any Rolls Royce I’ve ever seen.”

“Well… it’s not a Royce exactly.” I shrugged.

He considered for a moment, “Well, what other kind of Rolls is there?”

“It’s more of a Canardly.”

He squinted his eyes a little, his bushy eyebrows forming one constant caterpillar across the top portion of his face. “A Rolls Canardly? Never heard of it.”

“You know, it rolls down one hill and can hardly make it up the next? … a Rolls… Can..ardly?”

After a beat, he barked with laughter. “A Rolls Canardly” he shook his head and started back towards the front of his house.

I watched his disappearing frame gingerly walk up the front steps of the house and wondered what his story was? He was definitely an odd old man. Crabby at first glance, but there was something deeper under there. Something softer, maybe? What about his family? I never saw anyone coming or going from his house. If I was being honest, I couldn’t really see him being the highlight of anyone’s life. He didn’t exactly give off that warm and cozy vibe. Yet oddly enough, I realized, I looked forward to my awkward exchanges with him.

That Saturday I had one of those rare days off, while pouring myself a cup of coffee, I looked out the window and saw Edwin tinkering with the old green bell hanging in the archway of his garden. I filled a second mug and headed outside.

“That's an interesting-looking bell.” I said approaching the fence. “Reminds me of a Japanese Shrine.”

Nothing. No reply again. I shrugged and was about to turn away.

“The Japanese way of living is much simpler than ours.” He said finally, securing the last chain on the bell.

“Have you been to Japan?” I held out the second cup of coffee, offering an olive branch.

He eyed it for a few seconds, then ambled over to the fence. “Spent a little time there,” he hitched his chin up a bit. “End of the forties.” He accepted the cup of coffee, “was in the Army.”

“Japan is definitely on my bucket list.” I said.

“Bucket list” he shook his head. “Don’t get caught up in that trap. None of us know how much time we have left here on God’s Green Earth. You want to do something?” He growled, “you gotta go for it! Otherwise…” his voice took on a somber tone, “you may live to regret it.”

I got the impression he wasn't talking about me so much as he was talking about himself.

“Yeah, well, maybe in a few years. I’m pretty much in debt up to my eyeballs right now, My parents died in a car crash last year and the insurance didn't even come close to covering everything.” I gestured toward my car. “Hence the Canardly parked in front of your house most of the time.”

He studied me for a long moment before downing the rest of his cup of coffee and heading inside.

***

I hadn’t seen Edwin out for a few days, but that Tuesday morning as I was getting ready for work, I heard car doors slam. I looked out the window and saw blue and red flashing lights. I stood silent as I watched the paramedics haul Edwin’s lifeless body out of his house.

Pretty soon there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find a police officer standing there.

I looked from him to the house next door. “Edwin… Is he?”

“I’m sorry, Sir.” He said and handed me a little black book with a cherry blossom embossed on the front. “This was in an envelope with your name on it.”

I opened it up to the first page and in barely legible handwriting was scrawled,

-Well here you go, one last conversation between me and you.

What was going on here? It looked like a diary of sorts. I sat down and started to read.

It turned out that while Edwin was in the Army at the end of WWII. They had stationed him in Kyoto Japan with the occupation forces working in the Interior Ministry helping to administer day-to-day life for the Japanese civilians trying to recover their life after the war.

That’s where he met a young Japanese girl named Sakura Kenji who worked as a secretary for the Commanding Officer.

Their friendship grew to be romantic, and soon they were sneaking around in order to be together. They would discreetly pass notes to one another as at that time, relationships with Japanese nationals were frowned upon.

In April 1949 he was being discharged and had to go home. He wanted to take her with him, but so soon after the war their relationship would have impossible in the States.

The day before he shipped out, she took him to a park full of cherry trees and they had a quiet picnic and admired the beautiful blossoms.

He lost touch with Sakura after that, as social media was decades away. He never married.

Inserted into the last page was a little envelope with a note in it. Brady carefully took it out and read.

“My love how I have wished our lives had worked out differently. You have been my only thought all these years. I hope you had a good and fulfilling life…Edwin.”

The last page showed the location of almost $20,000 buried under the rose bushes. Apparently, he had been saving the money to go back to Japan and find his lost love, but along the way he had lost his courage, figuring Sakura had probably moved on and married and not wanting to complicate things, he dismissed the idea. Then, as time wore on, he got too old and frail. My heart ached for these two people I knew little to nothing about.

Two months later, I had earned a two-week vacation. Sitting on a plane bound for Tokyo, I pulled the love note out of my pocket. If she was still alive, I would find her and give her the note. If not, I would leave it at a shrine for lost love in Kyoto.