A Fern's Dead Leaves

I couldn’t wait until I got home. My red pumps were a bit too high but they worked best with my navy blue dress. I walked on the sidewalk towards the garage, my crossbody satchel close to my body. There was a lone man sitting next to the entrance with ripped shoes and long hair. He was likely homeless. Before I got to him, I pulled a 20 dollar bill from my purse. I was feeling generous and lucky; I’d gotten some new clients today and I would be able to help them with their lawsuits.

As I gave the money to the man, our eyes met. His, a familiar blue, widened after a second, recognizing my face. He was wearing a beanie...Seafoam green appeared under the layers of dirt. I’d given my high school boyfriend that exact beanie growing up. And he was still wearing it so many years later. Underneath the long beard was the face I loved years ago. My chest swelled.  

“Briar?” he whispered. Then, he stood up. 

“Fernando.” I took his hand between both of mine. “Are you okay?”

He smiled, but it didn’t seem to reach his eyes. “Yeah! The world is my oyster!”

I surveyed the holes on his shoes and his ripped clothes. “Speaking of oysters, would you like to go get some dinner? Want pizza?” I asked. Meat lover’s pizza was his favorite. 

He nodded. “I like pizza.” 

“Come on then.” 

I started walking, and he walked behind me. I slowed to make sure our pace was the same. 

“It’s been a long time since we have seen each other,” I murmured. “How have you been?” 

He shrugged. “Not too long. We just graduated.”

I stopped walking. “Fernando? What year do you think this is?” 

“2012.” 

It’s 2020. What is going on. I try to keep the panic away from my face. He needed to see a doctor. Soon. 

“Fernando, where is your family?” I asked.

He shrugged. “They kicked me out after graduation.”

That was unlikely. His family was quite loving and good people from what I could recall. We got to my car. I unlocked the door and got in. He waited outside. I lowered the window on his side. 

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“I’m going to get your seat dirty.”

“Get in, Fern.”

He knew I meant business when I used his nickname from years ago. He opened the car door and sat in the front seat. I turned on the ignition and looked at him. 

“Meat lover’s?” I asked, browsing through my phone to find a pizza place that could deliver to my apartment. 

He looked out the window. “Anything is fine.”

I ordered two pizzas, cheese for me and meat lovers for him. I added in some brownies for dessert and Dr. Pepper as the drinks. After I submitted the order, I pulled out of my parking space and began to head to my house. 

“Fern, have you seen a doctor recently?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t have health insurance.”

“Okay.” 

We rode in silence for a while. 

“You don’t have to feel sorry for me,” he said. “I’m fine. I’m happy.” 

He wrapped his arms around himself, almost in a way to protect himself from shattering if he didn’t. 

“I don’t feel sorry for you, Fern. I’m just confused about everything.”

He clutched his head and squeezed. “Take me back.” 

“Fern, it’s okay.” 

“Nothing is okay!” he yelled and tried to open the door. He was shaking and quivering and starting to hyperventilate. But it was thankfully locked and remained locked while the car was moving. I pulled over into a nearby parking lot. He started rocking back and forth, big tears falling from his eyes. He was unable to talk, wiping his nose with his ripped sleeve. 

I took his hand. Then, I cupped his face the way I would when we were back in high school. I smoothed the hair away from his eyes and rested my forehead against his. 

“I know things aren’t okay, Fern. I know because the man I see now is not the man I parted ways with after graduation. But it doesn’t mean that things can’t be okay. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean that you’re not worth helping. So listen,” I said, speaking softly, “take a deep breath and hold it.” 

He inhaled, little sobs getting caught in his throat often. He exhaled a second afterwards, his own feelings preventing him from doing more.

“I can’t.”

“You can. I’m right here. It’s okay. Just keep trying, okay? In through the nose, out through the mouth” 

He nodded and continued to try to catch his breath. When he was breathing more normally, I started talking again. 

“Okay. Name five things you can see.”

He opened his eyes. “You...the p-p-parking sign...p-p-people...b-b-birds...my h-h-hands…”

“Okay. Good. Now 4 things you can touch.”

“You...my p-p-pants...the..the car...my n-n-ose.”

“3 things you can hear.”

“You. B-birds. V-voices.”

“2 things you can smell.” 

“I can’t s-smell. My nose is stuffed.”

“Well...okay.” I racked my brain on what to say. 

“You. You smell nice. I remember.”

“What else? What do you like to smell?”

“Food.” 

“Pizza will be there when we get home. Now, tell me one thing you feel. Emotion.”

He looked at me. “Scared.” 

The truth lingered in the air. 

“I’m not going to leave, Fernando. I promise.”

He looked down. “Okay.”

“Are you feeling better?” I asked him.

He nodded. 

I pulled him in for a hug. He buried his face to my neck, like he used to. When he let go, I drove us home. 

The pizza was on the table I had on the front porch. I unlocked the door and he helped me haul things in. 

“Can...can I take a bath first?” he asked, timidly.

“Of course. Anything you need.” 

I pulled out a towel and some clothes that male friends had left in my apartment before. I took a new toothbrush that I had received during a recent dental clean and a razor that should work for men and set it all in the restroom. “Left for hot, right for cold, pull out this thing for the water to come out,” I said pointing to the handle, “and pull this thing so the water comes out on top.”

“Thank you.”

I left him alone and went to make a couple of phone calls to some friends, regarding taking Fernando in for a medical and psychiatric evaluation the next day. All of them thankfully conceded without issue. I kicked off my heels in my bedroom and changed into a tank top and shorts to be comfortable. 

I turned the television on and waited for him to finish. He'd always been one for short quick showers, but I can imagine that after wearing the same clothes and living in the streets for so long, I'd probably want the shower to never end either. 

My head was spinning. How did this happen? How did he end up this way? When we separated, it was with the promise of reunification and friendship in the meantime, during college. Here we were, almost a decade later and he is...well, whatever he is now. 

He was always the strong one. The secure one. He would always tell me I was smart and would make an excellent lawyer. He was so sure and put together. 

I heard the water stop, and my heart started pounding. I'm not fifteen anymore. I'm 27. I can do this. He needs me. Lawyer bravado. 

He walked out with the freshly cleaned clothes. His hair was longer than he normally kept it and dripped a bit. His beard was long and funny looking. The fullness when dry was much more narrow when wet, like a Jafar beard. 

I smiled. "Hi. Ready for food?" 

He nodded. 

I waved him over to the couch where I'd laid the pizza and plates on the center table. 

He sat carefully and looked at the pizza. 

"Eat all that you want. Change the channel if there's something you'd like to watch instead." 

He picked up a piece of pizza and put it on his plate, leaning back against the couch. He took a small bite and closed his eyes as he chewed, a small smile reaching his face. 

I reached for my own slice and began to eat, crossing my legs on the couch and watching the television. 

I ate about two slices and about three pieces of brownie. I was mid-bite when I noticed him looking at me.

"You look good," he noted. 

"I am good." 

"Good.." 

I turned to face him with my entire body. "You look like you haven't been at peace for a long time." 

He looked down. "Feels that way." 

"Well, we are friends. And when a friend needs help, you help them. So you are welcome to stay here for as long as you want." 

"You're a good person, Briar. You always have been."

I took his hand. "You were always so good to me. I love you, Fern. And I always will. And that won't change simply because your beard reminds me of Jafar from Aladdin right now."

He chuckled a little and I was happy to have given him a moment of humor. 

Then he sighed. "Okay, Briar." 

"Just so you're aware, I have a couple of friends that work in the medical field and we will go see them tomorrow, okay? Just to make sure that we get you started as soon as possible." 

Fear crossed his eyes. 

"I will be in there with you if you want me in there. And I can step out if you need me to step out. But I want you to be okay again, Fern. So this is the starting point. Is that okay?" I squeezed his hand.

He squeezed back. "Okay, Briar."

I hugged him. His arms slowly enveloped me and he hugged me back. Again, he buried his face in my neck and I kissed his hair, still moist from the shower.

#

Rachel was waiting in her waiting room for us to arrive. We walked in and she stood up. Straight to business was her life's motto. 

She weighed him and measured him and his vitals. Poked and prodded. Drew blood. Checked his heart. I would offer smiles of encouragement every so often.

"He's a bit underweight, but everything sounds good." She looked at the chart. "I'll check his blood work and call you when I have the results." 

"Thank you, Rachel. Really," I said to her, when we were saying our goodbyes. 

"Psych eval is next right?" 

I nodded. 

"I saw some scarring and bruises, Briar Rose.." She took off her glasses. "Likely due to bullets."

My eyes widened. 

"Go. I'll talk to you when the results come in."

I composed myself and walked out the door to meet Fernando. 

"Underweight. Heh. We might need to do some light competitive eating challenges until you get to normal."

He gave me a weird look. "Your mind is fascinating."

"Up and down and loops around," I said with a grin. "Let's go." 

#

For the next place, there was a psychiatric appointment with my friend Charlie. Charlie was among some of the best psychiatrists in town. He was a kind man who dealt with an array of problematic mental illnesses. He allowed a few appointments on the weekends, so we waited while he finished up with a client before sitting with him. 

"Do you want me in there?" I asked. 

He shrugged and looked away. 

"He's going to ask you some personal questions. But it's going to be okay. And he will keep everything private and confidential. So if you feel you'll be more open without me there, I'll be okay to sit this one out." 

He nodded. "Okay. I can...handle this."

"Yes. You can." 

He nodded to himself again, happy. And then Charlie waived him inside and I was alone again. 

I looked for his brother Roberto on social media. He had to know what happened. He had to at least know that his brother was okay. Maybe Fern had gotten lost. 

Hey. I ran into Fern. He's safe. 

Staying with me. 

I waited for a response but didn't receive one after a while. 

I started flipping through a magazine, trying to distract my mind. A thousand questions lingered in the air. If I had a homeless family member, I'd want to know. And help.

After too many moments, my phone buzzed. 

Good. 

I supplied a response. 

In case you wanted to see him. 

He responded after a second. 

B, he chose that life

This life? I don't think anyone chooses to be homeless. Or broken.

Don't you care about him? About why he's "chosen" this life?

I felt angry. 

I do know. Do you? 

I didn't. He didn't wait for a response. 

Wife and daughter killed in mass shooting

He made it

Refused help

Told us he hated us after

Decided to leave home and everything

Didn't want us looking or finding him 

Wished to be dead like the family

I forgot how to breathe. 

Fernando. Married. With a daughter. 

Fernando, shot. 

Fernando. Widower. No daughter. 

A whole lifetime lived in less than a decade. A decade where we didn't speak. Where suddenly communication stopped. Where I didn't question it. Where he was alone. Where I let him be alone. Where he wished to be nothing. 

Fernando was not a quiet person growing up. He was rambunctious and fun and loved wholly and entirely. He probably was a great husband and father. He loved everyone around him. 

I meant it when I said that he was an amazing friend and good to me when we were more than that. 

How does anyone, much less someone who loves wholly, move on from that? 

My heart started beating fast and tightening for the boy that I once knew. Oh, goodness. Oh, god, why. I sank to the floor. 

Keep it together. He needs you, my mind said. 

I took a deep breath to see the blue eyes meet mine as the door opened. And I lost it.