Goodbye, Harvey

Memorandum

To: File

From: Frank Flounder

Date: 12/18/10

Subject: Goodbye, Harvey

Today I went to a meeting. During the meeting, the Managing Partner praised me because I stole more money than anyone else this year. My colleagues began to clap. I excused myself and returned to my office. I'd left an interoffice envelope for Harvey containing an autographed picture of Wolf Blitzer. The envelope was still there.

I went to the mailroom to speak with the supervisor. 

"Harvey?" he said. "He 'aint come in again. When he gettin' back? Dunno, man. Maybe never. People do that in this line of work. They come and they go."

I told my secretary that I was not feeling well and left early. I went back to Harvey's apartment building and parked outside.

Eventually, Harvey's neighbor appeared. He was wearing a thin robe and walking a small dog. The dog growled menacingly as I approach them. 

"He's gone," the neighbor said. "Saw him last night. Said he was going somewhere. Don’t know where. He's not much of a talker, never was."



Indeed, I said. 

***

I took a walk down Harvey's street towards the river. At the river's edge there is an abandoned park. There are needles on the ground, and the ground is bare in many places. There is an old bench there, covered in bird shit. Across the river, the city shimmers like fading coals. I took my tie off and sat down.

I spotted something poking out of the ground, not far from where I sat. I rose to investigate: it was a stuffed elephant covered in paisley cloth. One of its glass eyes was missing and the stuffing was poking out in places. I stood there for a time, and thought about the child that left it there, and whether things become easier to forget as they fall apart, because they aren't pretty or useful any more, if they ever were to begin with. 

I dusted off the elephant and put it under my arm. I think, someday, I will send it on. 


F.F.