Chapter 9: 9 – THE HERMIT

 

S. Brook Counseling & Therapy Clinic

August 28^th X281

 

It was around 8 p.m., and Dr. Ronaldo was at his office investigating Florian’s predicament.

Dr. Ronaldo checked the Tarot Tori City obituaries for persons who passed away on November 16th, the day Hope Cobblestone was born.

He found only one, an individual by the name of Zachary Venmont.

Florian was right. Someone really did die the day her sister was born.

He passed away at the Tarot Tori City medical center due to underlying health issues at the age of eighty-six.

Ronaldo wanted more information. He called the Tarot Tori City medical center, using his clinic’s clearance to access the archives. He obtained a detailed medical record for Zachary Venmont.

He didn’t have an address listed, meaning he had been homeless. He visited the hospital regularly as the visits were free. His exams showed he had lung cancer.

Dr. Ronaldo’s phone rang. It was the chief of the Tarot Tori City Police Department.

“Hey, Dr. Ronaldo. A little birdie told me you looked up some medical records of a Zachary Venmont? Can I ask for the reason?” the chief asked.

“Oh, it’s for a patient of mine. I can’t say more than that.”

“I see. Does this patient of yours seem suspicious in any way?” the chief asked.

“My patient is only seven years old. Was there foul play in the death of Zachary Venmont?” Ronaldo asked.

“We are just following procedures. I can share what we have if I get your verbal consent for. . .” The chief listed several legal and ongoing investigation disclosures.

“I accept,” Dr. Ronaldo said.

“It wasn’t much, but after an autopsy, we discovered he had swallowed a little bit of rat poison. We suspected he may have eaten some discarded food and ate some rat trap by mistake—poor bastard. I knew him too. He was a smart man. He was visiting the medical center regularly but couldn’t pay for any cancer treatments. Since he wasn’t a resident, he didn’t qualify for the Tarot Tori City monthly flex spending. That would have paid for the treatments for sure.”

“That’s awful.”

“Yeah, but things in this city are a lot better than they were before, I’ll tell ya,” the chief said.

“Thanks for telling me,” Ronaldo said.

“I called you as soon as I saw your name in the alert system we cooked up. Don’t worry, Doctor, you aren’t a suspect. The real reason I called was to see if this talk would spark an interest in helping us out in the future. We could really use your help,” the chief said.

“I thought the crime rate was low?” Ronaldo said.

“Exactly, low, not zero. The penitentiary is also in desperate need of a new counselor. Your mentor Dr. Steinsbrook would—”

“I know; he used to work with correction facilities,” Ronaldo said.

“I will send the case file to your office. It should arrive tomorrow morning,” the chief said.

“Thank you.” Dr. Ronaldo hung up the phone.

That night, Dr. Ronaldo thought about the offer but was more worried this sad news might not be what Florian was looking for.

 

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The following day, the case file arrived. After looking it over, Dr. Ronaldo canceled Florian’s appointment. He sat silently in the lobby of his clinic. Alone.

Later that day, something outside the window caught Ronaldo’s eye. It was Florian sprinting on the opposite side of the aqueduct. She ran across the bridge, over the aqueduct, and back around the walkway. The clinic door chimed open.

Out of breath, she said, “You found something! Didn’t you?” She must have run all the way there from the bus stop.

“What? I didn’t,” Dr. Ronaldo said. He adjusted his glasses and wiped his vest. “I canceled our appointment. Why are you here?”

“You’re lying!” Florian said.

“I didn’t find anything,” Ronaldo said.

“I can tell just by looking! You can’t hide from me!” she said.

“Do your parents know you are here? Go home.”

“No! I’m not leaving until you tell me what you found out!” Florian pouted, arms crossed. She sat down in the lobby.

Ronaldo called her parents.

Florian didn’t move an inch. She sat and gave Dr. Ronaldo a piercing glare.

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Dr. Ronaldo sighed and went back to boxing documents to move to storage.

Florian followed Dr. Ronaldo around as he went from room to room.

“You’re not going to follow me to the bathroom, are you?” Dr. Ronaldo said.

“If you do that, I’ll block the door so you can’t get out,” Florian said.

“Please just wait until your parents get here.”

“I won’t leave,” Florian said.

He was astonished.

“If my parents take me away. I’ll be back tomorrow, and the next, and the next. You can’t avoid me forever.”

“You aren’t old enough to understand what happened to Zachary Venmont,” Dr. Ronaldo said.

“Zachary Venmont? That’s the name of the old man, isn’t it?”

“No, no more. I’m not saying another word.”

“You say I’m not old enough, but you’ll have to tell me eventually. You can tell me now and get it over with or wait and make me feel like an idiot.”

“Why do you want to hear about this stranger so badly? You don’t need to know about him to live your life.”

“I want to look at my sister without crying,” Florian said.

Dr. Ronaldo went silent. He berated himself for not realizing sooner how Florian was feeling. Zachary Venmont was haunting her mind, and she was reminded of him every time she looked at her sister. It would be cruel to make her suffer any longer.

Ronaldo sat down and told her about Zachary Venmont. He told her how the old man in the hospital waiting room had died. He did not leave a single thing out.

Florian started to cry.

“It’s all right . . . Mr. Venmont lived a long life of eighty-six years.”

“It’s not that,” Florian cried.

“It’s okay to cry. Fear, sadness, depression, no emotion is a bad thing. Emotions show we care about something so much our bodies can’t contain it, and that’s a miracle.”

Florian laughed. “Thank you. I’m so happy I met you, Sergeant Nowell, Miss Fumblehouse, and Mr. Venmont. I’m not alone,” she said.

Florian was relieved, content, and happier. Her tearful smile was genuine and inspiring. Dr. Ronaldo gave Florian a hug as her parents escorted her home.

 

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As soon as Florian got home, she embraced her baby sister for what felt like the first time.

 

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That night Dr. Ronaldo found himself flipping through his mentor’s notes. He began studying once again. Florian inspired him to work harder. He had so much more to learn and big shoes to fill compared to the achievements of Dr. Steinsbrook.

 

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Dr. Ronaldo turned on the TV to catch the news. The mayor of Tarot Tori City, William Rite Banquet, was on screen. His fine blond hair, tall slim build, and pressed dark blue suit took up the whole screen. His smile gleamed brighter with the flashing cameras as he announced the grand opening of the city’s newest homeless shelter.

Ronaldo thought it was just another PR stunt.

“This three hundred bed shelter will be named after a very close friend of mine, Zachary Venmont.”

Ronaldo spat out his drink.

“Tragically, he passed away a little over three months ago. He was unable to pay for his medical treatments and thus succumbed to his cancer.” Mayor Banquet’s smile turned into a concerned frown.

Dr. Ronaldo turned up the volume.

“So, as of today, thanks to this shelter, the word homeless will no longer be in Tarot Tori City’s dictionary. You heard right; this shelter shall be an official residential address for the currently homeless in this city.” The press all stood up and asked questions right in the middle of the speech.

Mayor Banquet’s narcissistic smile returned as he didn’t stop. “That means, starting tomorrow at noon, these new residents of Tarot Tori City will be eligible to apply for the monthly flex spending following the guidelines, the same as everyone else. They’ll have a warm bed to sleep in. They’ll be given the opportunity to start a new chapter in their lives. They’ll even have funds to pay for major medical procedures. Oh, and who could forget that they’ll be eligible to vote!”

This was Mayor William Rite Banquet. Thirty-two years old. The protégé of the previous mayor. It was his first year as mayor, and he knew damn well what he was doing. He had founded Tarot Tori City alongside his mentor, three generations in the planning, fourteen years and counting to institute.

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