My Friend Herman

“Who was Walt Whitman, anyways?” I asked, looking up at mom while kicking one particular rock that had been with me since we left the front door. It was a good kicking rock, very tumble-y.

“He was a poet. ‘O captain, my captain?’”

“O CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN!” I yelled proudly as if walking into Walt Whitman Park in Brooklyn while yelling his words would produce a magical response. A magic carpet? Trees bursting into fireworks? Fountains turning into the Pacific Ocean?

“Shhhhh!” she laughed, “inside voice.”

“But we’re outside!” I pointed to the trees and my tumble-y rock. We walked over to my usual bench under my favorite tree, next to my favorite fountain.

“I’m covering for Mel today so I’m going to be just a little bit later than usual. I’ll grab you at five o’clock, ok baby?”

“Ok!” I said back as she pulled me in for one of her hugs.

She waved at me and I waved back as she walked out of the park and across the street to the restaurant. I pulled out the coloring book I’d been working my way through. I thumbed through to the last folded-down page and began coloring the grizzly bear I’d been working on. I had been making him green, a broccoli bear.

It was so windy that my scarf kept getting all stuck in my face to where I couldn’t see. The wind picked up and suddenly pulled my coloring book along with it. I chased after the book until it finally landed on two shiny black oxfords in front of a bench about thirty feet away around a corner. The oxfords were connected to a pair of blue plaid trousers, which were connected to a clean white shirt surrounded by a worn-out brown coat. All of it was wrapped around a small, wrinkly old man who frowned at me.

“Oh, I’m sorry sir!”

He gruffed at me and went back to writing in a little black book.

“What are you drawing?”

“I’m not drawing.”

“What are you writing?”

“Nothing.”

“Well, you can’t be writing nothing.”

He shut his book with the pen still inside. “How old are you, kid?”

“Eleven. Well, in 34 days I’ll be eleven.”

“What’re you doing alone in the park?”

“I’m always at the park! Can I sit by you?”

He considered it for a second before gesturing lazily next to him. I plopped down by my new friend.

“If you show me what you’re writing I’ll show you what I’m coloring.”

He tilted his book away from me. “Just writing what I see, nothing interesting.”

“Oh, like I-Spy?”

“No.”

“Do you want to play I-Spy?”

“How about we play the quiet game?”

I decided that quiet company was better than no company at all. I nodded and got back to work on my bear. And there we sat, me coloring and him writing, being together but not.

***

The day passed around our bench. People came and went, leaves stirred around us in little windy spirals, and now and then I’d look up and see mom through the window. At about 5:05 I watched her walk across the street towards us.

“Hi, Mav man!” she said as she approached, bending down to meet my eyes like she does.

“Mom this is…” I had been too scared to ask his name. I didn’t want to lose the game.

“Herman,” he said and gave a slight, barely-wave.

“Well, Herman, I hope he didn’t talk your ear off.”

Herman nodded as we began to walk away. “Wait!”

I opened my coloring book back to the finished bear. I tore out the page. “For you! Will you be back tomorrow?”

“I’m not sure.”

Mom pulled me away but I bent my head back to look at him. I could see him looking at my picture - and I think a smile was sneaking onto his face.

***

The next day, I pulled mom’s hand past my normal bench and fountain.

“I gotta see if Herman’s back!”

“Honey he may want to be alone.”

“Nah, mom, I think he likes me.”

And there he was, same black oxfords and blue plaid trousers.

“Hi, Herman! Can I sit here again today?” He gave a gruff in agreement.

“4 o’clock today, Mav. Be ready!” Mom said as she walked away and blew three fake kisses. I blew one back.

He turned to me, looking at me in a way he didn’t yesterday. “Hey kid, can I ask something?”

“Sure!”

“Doesn’t your mom worry about leaving you here by yourself all day?”

“I don’t think so. She can see me through the window.”

“Why don’t you go to work with her?”

“I used to. Her boss would get mad. He said it wasn’t a daycare.”

“Why don’t you go to a daycare?”

“Because that’s for babies!”

“Hmmph.”

It was quiet for a second. “Because we can’t afford it,” I answered. “Ever since my dad left it’s just been mom and I. She works at the hotel all week while I’m at school and at the restaurant on the weekends. We don’t know anyone else in the city, so this is the best she could figure out.”

I didn’t like it when people felt sad for me, or sad at all, really. I changed the subject and went on with my original plan for the day.

“Ok, Herman, stand up” I gestured with both hands, beckoning.

“Excuse me?” I grabbed his little wrist and pulled him onto his feet.

“I’m going to give you a super special tour of Walt Whitman park.”

“I’ve seen this park, kid.”

“Nope, not my version! Onward!” and with that, I gave a final tug in the direction of my favorite fountain. He carried his little black book as we walked.

I presented the fountain with my hands in a big sweeping motion, “our first stop - the Pacific Ocean!”

“Kid I don’t think the Pacific Ocean has old gum on its edges,” he said with a grumble.

“Life’s what you make it, Herman!”

“Hmmph.”

I pivoted, pulling him along with me to face my favorite tree behind us. “Do you see a tree, Herman?”

“Yes.”

I pointed at the bench in front of us, under the tree. “And this here, this is my favorite bench. I promise you’ll like it as much as yours. Sit.” I pulled him down next to me.

“I have this theory and I wanted to try it out. Do you know who Walt Whitman is?”

“The poet? Yes, I do.”

I smiled at him and grabbed Herman’s hand in mine, squeezed my eyes shut, and let out a yell, “O CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN!” I felt Herman jump in my hand.

“Are you crazy!?”

“Say it with me! Even just a whisper. And close your eyes!” I begged and re-grabbed his hand as a small smile crept onto his face. We both shut our eyes. I yelled again, louder and prouder while Herman repeated the phrase in a tiny whisper. We held there for a moment, eyes shut before they were forced open with a loud BOOM!

I looked up to see that the tree had burst into the most beautiful brilliant array of every color, splashing across and over each other in dancing sparks - fireworks. I met Herman’s eyes, and in meeting them I knew he saw it too. A smile now danced across his face and lit up behind his eyes. Suddenly, we both lost our balance, looking down to find ourselves floating a few feet above the concrete path, feet dangling.

“A magic carpet!” I beamed at Herman.

We swept over the park. Below us were lapping waves, expanding impossibly into the horizon, the park disappearing beneath, “well I’ll be damned, “ Herman laughed.

We rode along over the water slowly. Herman took out his book and began to alternate between writing and smiling up around him. I didn’t bother asking what he was writing, I just smiled at him smiling.

After some time, our magic carpet began to descend back downwards, all the while the water parted little by little to reveal the park beneath. The fireworks slowed and then stopped. We stepped off of our carpet with a sigh. It was perfect timing - mom was heading over.

“See you next weekend?” I asked Herman.

“You bet, kid.” He had a real, big smile this time.

Every Saturday and Sunday for the next few weeks I raced to our bench and always found Herman. His smile got bigger and his laugh louder. We’d sit on our bench, yell out our ode to Walt and head out on our adventure. We’d fight pirates, we’d scale castles, one time Herman slayed a dragon, all the while writing in his little black book.

***

One Saturday, I ran up to our bench and Herman wasn’t there. I sat on our bench and waited, but he never showed. I came back the next day and he wasn’t there again. Every weekend I waited.

A few weeks later, I was sitting on our bench, coloring a different bear - just brown this time. I saw mom crossing the street toward me. I looked at my watch, it was only about 12:30 - she shouldn’t have been off of work for another four or so hours. She picked up her walk to a little run, and by now I could see her face. She looked sad. She was holding something.

“Hey baby,” she said as she got to me, kneeling down and putting her hands on my knees, setting a little black book down on the bench beside me.

“What are you doing here?” I looked over at the book, “is that Herman’s book, mom?”

She squeezed my knees with her hands, keeping my gaze before picking up the book and sitting down on the bench beside me, “it was dropped off at the restaurant first thing this morning.”

“Herman dropped it off?”

She shook her head. She went on to explain that a nice man introduced himself as Herman’s lawyer and let her know that he wanted me to have it.

The tears in her eyes answered my next question.

We sat for a quiet moment before she asked, “do you want to see what was in it?”

I flipped through the pages. Page after page contained the same list of four boring words.

Path

Trees

Street

Bird

It made me angry. I shut the book hard. I felt a crunch inside the cover and opened it back up to see something familiar - my broccoli bear. To the right, on the very first page was a note:

To Maverick -

For letting me see what he sees. Happy birthday.

Your friend, Herman

I flipped quickly through the pages again, passing the pages and pages of the same four words, until…

Fireworks - red, blue, pink, green

The Pacific ocean, blue and deep and rolling waves

Pirates

A toucan

A flying carpet

Dragons breathing fire

Goblins

Swords

Maverick’s smile

And a million more beautiful words.

I looked up at mom and she pulled me in for a hug. As the book slid from my lap, an envelope fell out and to my feet. I picked it up. “It’s addressed to you, mom.”

She slid it open with her finger. Out of the envelope she pulled a note. She read it to herself, smiled, and held it to her chest for a second before pulling out the piece of paper inside the note.

The note was folded over a check for $20,000.

***

The next Saturday mom didn’t go to work, or any Saturday after that. I got to show her our bench. I had her squeeze her eyes shut and hold my hand. “You’re gonna love this!” I said.

“On the count of three...one...two...O CAPTAIN MY CAPTAIN!” we yelled together, and off we flew on our magic carpet.