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Dan stands alone with the sun at his back and the soft breeze of early spring rustling his now mostly silver hair. There was a time when his pride forced him to cover the grey that threaded itself through his thick, dark locks, but now - as he approaches his mid-sixties - he no longer bothers with such vanities. He had decided after his ill-fated and ill-advised attempt to follow Christine Sullivan to Washington DC that he no longer wanted to be the type of man he used to be. What did he have to show for it anyway? He had long ago alienated anyone who had tried to make a real connection with him - anyone who dared to try to care.
His mind wanders back to a time when he was younger. A time when he had people he would have considered to be his friends and a job that, while tedious at times, he had enjoyed more for the people he was doing it with than for the work itself. The days he spent working nighttime arraignment court with Harry, Christine, Roz, and the others were - he can admit to himself now - some of the best years of his life. Most of that was because of Harry, of course. The quirky young judge that had come breezing into all of their lives with an ace up his sleeve and a joy buzzer palmed in his right hand had been a breath of fresh air in the stale, dull courthouse. As much as Dan tried to pretend he found Harry’s antics annoying and juvenile, he honestly loved the way they broke up the monotony and, in some cases, the horrors of what they witnessed night after night.
Another thing that Dan always tried to pretend wasn’t true was the fact that he loved Harry more than he had ever loved anyone else in his life. Harry was his best and closest friend. He was someone who Dan could be himself around and know he’d never be judged for it. He could drop the facade of the unbothered, aloof playboy and just be the quirky, nerdy, goofy Louisiana boy he always had been deep down. Dan knew he could talk to Harry about anything over their late night meals at the all night diner close to the courthouse or over drinks at the bar by Harry’s apartment. He could show up unannounced at Harry’s place on a Saturday afternoon and tag along with Harry as he ran errands and then grab a bite to eat or catch a film at one of the old theaters than ran the types of black and white movies Harry enjoyed or wander around a museum together. Harry never questioned why Dan happened to have a Saturday free when he’d show up. He’d simply smile and welcome Dan along on whatever adventure they could cook up for the day. The memories bring a sad smile to Dan’s face while the breeze feels cool on the tracks of the tears streaming down his cheeks.
On the coattails of the fond memories comes crushing waves of regret. Regret over the distance that grew between them in their last year or so of working together. Regret over his own inability and unwillingness to process his two near-death experiences that left him on too shaky a foundation to properly handle Phil’s death and the subsequent responsibilities of the Phil Foundation. Dan knew, even as it was happening, that he should have talked to Harry. Harry, in his same gentle and caring way, would have been there for him if only Dan had asked. But Harry was finally in a solid relationship and Dan told himself he didn’t want to intrude on Harry’s time and his happiness. In reality - he can admit now - Dan was too angry and jealous at seeing Harry so happy and crazy in love with Margaret. In his damaged state of mind he couldn’t see it clearly at the time, but looking back Dan knows he wanted to be the one making Harry happy like that. He wanted to be the one that gave Harry that dreamy look in his eyes and the bounce in his step.
A fresh sob escapes Dan’s throat as the regret threatens to choke him. Even after Margaret left Harry on the very night he hoped to propose to her, he still didn’t reach out. Instead, he was cruel. He teased Harry and called him a loser in front of everyone in the cafeteria. Dan could have reached out - they could have leaned on each other to heal the the pain they were both struggling to deal with alone - instead he kept Harry at arm’s length and Harry, probably sensing that Dan wanted him to keep his distance, let him. Their friendship never recovered and by the time Dan had realized that leaving Manhattan to try to chase after Christine was a colossal mistake, he felt too much time had passed and the distance between them had become to great. They were two people standing on either side of a wide chasm and Dan was too afraid to make the leap. He knew his heart couldn’t take it if he had reached back out to Harry and Harry had rejected him, so he let his fears win out over his desires. Even after he got settled back in Manhattan and secured a job at a fairly upscale law firm, Dan never tried to reach out to Harry. He had learned from Roz, after bumping into her by chance one day, that Harry had left court to become a professor at Columbia University. She encouraged him to reach out to Harry - assured him that Harry would love to hear from him - but Dan’s fear ultimately won out again.
Dan went about his life. He never went back to his playboy ways after coming back to New York and instead focused on his career. He was lonely, but could mostly push those feelings aside by spending late nights researching his cases and writing articles for various law journals. Occasionally, he’d see an article written by Professor Harold T. Stone and would smile as he read it - hearing Harry’s voice in his head as he did. These little moments made Dan feel like maybe, in some small way, Harry was still part of his life.
However, it all came to a screeching halt a few weeks ago. Dan was sat at his kitchen table with his morning coffee flipping through the Saturday paper when suddenly Harry’s smiling face was staring up at him from the page. The headline next to his picture read: “Beloved Columbia University Professor and Former Judge Found Dead in His Manhattan Apartment”. Dan’s throat had slammed shut and his chest constricted as he read the headline over and over hoping beyond hope that he was reading it incorrectly. After a solid fifteen minutes, Dan was finally able to tear himself past the headline to read the article. It seemed that Harry had missed a couple of days of classes without notice and couldn’t be reached on his home number or his cell phone, so the dean of his department phoned the police to do a welfare check. They found Harry on his couch. He had been dead for a few days. An autopsy showed that he had passed from a heart attack. He apparently had a heart defect that had gone undetected as it was never noted on his medical records, according to the article. The article went on to say a memorial was being held for Harry on the Columbia campus the coming Monday and that he was going to be buried alongside his father and Aunt Ruthie and Uncle Otto on Long Island in a private service.
Dan had sat there for a couple of hours in a daze with tears streaming down his cheeks. No one had reached out to let Dan know. He had pushed everyone so far away from him that he had to learn of the death of the only close friend he had ever had, by pure chance, from the newspaper. He had never felt more alone than he felt in the hours after reading that article. He had considered attending the memorial for Harry at the university, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was still afraid - afraid of being rejected by those who knew and cared for Harry in these last years of his life because of the distance he had let grow between them. After a week, he started to research and found the information on where Harry had been laid to rest. It took another couple of weeks for Dan to finally work up the courage to make the trip out to Long Island.
And now, Dan is standing in the early spring grass of the small cemetery, the May breeze lightly brushing at the tears on his face, looking at a modest dark grey headstone that reads: Harold T. Stone, beloved friend and teacher. There are so many things Dan wants to say - so many words that were left unsaid in life - but he can’t seem to make them come out of his mouth. Instead, all Dan can do is bend down to place a single red rose and a single sunflower at the base of the headstone and whisper “Goodbye, Harry.” before turning to walk away.