[M] We Who Remain [Marimo & Naming]

[Marimo]

MITCHELL, Adam
May 17th, 199X - November 2nd, 201X
Beloved son of Lisa and Robert Mitchell, Adam was a shining star on the rise. Known by everyone in the community as a quiet and gentle soul, Adam played piano and maintained a 4.0 average at school. He was artistic, creative, warmhearted and intelligent; a young man that would have surely gone on to changing the lives of many. He is deeply missed by all who knew him: family, friends, teachers, and acquaintances. Funeral services will be held on November 13th at Memorial Park. Condolences to the family from the staff at The Daily Star.

When the bell signaling the start of a new class rang overhead, Owen placed the crumpled newspaper clipping back into his messy desk drawer. He had torn it carefully from the newspaper he found at an empty table in the local coffee shop. His eyes had glazed over the picture then, his thumbs smudged with black ink, and he shoved it into his pocket without reading it. Sitting at his desk, he had read it possibly a hundred times by now -- as if some detail would change, or as if it would cease to exist altogether.

Realizing that he had missed his opportunity to have a quick smoke, the young teacher cursed under his breath as students started to stream in. Thankfully this was his last English class of the day, but he remembered his music session at school that he knew he couldn't skip for the 5th time in a row. Watching the students take their seats and chat as they always did, Owen clenched his jaw. Desks were slowing being occupied, except for the one that would remain eerily empty this period. Flowers and little cards had been left a few days after the incident, but soon after they were all gone. Was it the janitorial staff? Was it a student? The principal? Owen's guess was as good as anyone's.

Lost in his thoughts, Owen didn't realize when the bell signaling the start of class rung. The students quieted down, which had only just started in the past two weeks; all watched the young man hunched at his desk, his hand holding his head.

"How long do you think it will take today?" a girl whispered to the boy beside her.

"Wanna make it interesting? I bet 10 bucks it'll take five minutes, like yesterday." he retorted, grinning at the idea of making some easy money. The girl rolled her eyes and angrily whispered back.

"You're horrible!... but deal."

Sadly for the boy, their teacher cleared his throat and stood from his chair. The girl stifled a giggle.

"Hey, everyone," Owen started, taking a deep breath before continuing, "let's do a journal assignment today, okay?"

Lacking the enthusiasm he usually exuded, his words sounded tired and depressed. He grabbed the stack of the student's notebooks, and began walking between rows to pass them around.

"I graded your last entries... not your best. Try to fill out two pages this time, and really... reflect on the subject matter this time."

Making his way to the front of the room, Owen picked up a dry-erase marker and uncapped it, then wrote in a lazy scrawl: How do you overcome hardship?

"You have all period. If you finish before the bell, continue reading Jane Eyre."

Taking a seat once more, Owen leaned back and opened his desk drawer. He stared at that little piece of paper and let his mind go blank to the sound of pencils scratching on paper.

[Namingtoohard]

"Hellooooo, Earth to Stephanie. Can you hear me?"

Stephanie would blink several times in quick succession, quickly snapping out of the trance that seemed to have come over her. She would turn both her attention and her gaze back to her surroundings, and quickly met the eyes of one of her friends - another student in the same year as her, who went by the name of Maddie. At the moment, Maddie was staring at her with narrow eyes and pursed lips, seemingly displeased by the way her friend had managed to totally ignore everything she was saying. After a few seconds taken to recall where she was and what she was doing, Stephanie would give her friend an apologetic smile.

"Ah, sorry. I totally zoned out for a second there. What were you saying?" she asked, trying to sound as truthful as possible. Maddie, however, didn't appear to be convinced. She refused to budge for a moment, staring at Stephanie with an intensity that she didn't show often.

"Is everything alright? You seem a little...scatterbrained today. Well, more than usual, I mean" she offered. Stephanie raised an eyebrow at the sudden jab, but resisted the urge to try and refute the comment - there was some measure of truth to it, and trying to deny it would likely be a fruitless endeavour. Instead, she would settle for disregarding her friend's comments, brushing them off with a simple wave of a hand.

"Oh relax, I'm fine. I just had a little bit of trouble sleeping last night, that's all" she offered simply. It wasn't technically a lie, even if it wasn't quite the whole reason behind her lack of attentiveness.

"Well, you'd better snap out of it before-"

Their discussion was suddenly cut short by the unmistakeable ringing of the school's bell, signalling that it was time for the next class to begin. Maddie would swear under her breath softly, glancing up at the speakers nearby, before the two would exchange a quick round of glances.

"Sorry, gotta run. Old man Slater will kill me if I'm late for history again. I'll see you later, yeah?" Maddie would offer simply, before quickly turning and disappearing down the hallway. She vanished from sight within moments, consumed by the swelling tide of students who quickly flooded the building as they all scurried off to reach their next lessons in time. Stephanie would watch her go for a moment, before turning and heading off in the other direction - towards her own class. Her pace lacked the urgency that a lot of the other students seemed to show, but her next class wasn't far, so the girl wasn't overtly worried.

She would file into the classroom alongside all the other students, ignoring the lot of them in favour of moving towards her chosen desk. The student would set her violin case down first, laying it down alongside the chair with a tenderness that equalled its value. She would shrug off her backpack next, dropping it down alongside the case haphazardly, before finally lowering herself into the seat. She went through the motions of getting out her notebooks and pens quickly, but the actions were largely mechanical, done just as much out of habit as necessity.

Stephanie remained silent as the rest of the students filed in, keeping to herself as the classroom slowly filled up. She ignored the chatter of the other girls as they spoke with their neighbours, getting in whatever talk they could manage before the teacher called the class to order. She regarded the work they were given with a similar level of disinterest, which was uncharacteristic for Stephanie. She was normally eager in class, willing to learn and happy to try her hardest. She liked to keep her grades up, largely to keep her parents happy, but also so that she could continue with practice. She attacked the work they were given at a reserved pace, not working any harder than was otherwise necessary. Indeed, it was unlikely that she would say or do much more until class finally came to an end, unless something specific demanded her attention. What more could she do, really?

[Marimo]

The hour passed in the blink of an eye. Owen was still staring at the crumpled obituary in his desk drawer when the bell signaling the end of class, and students erupted with chatter and the shuffling of supplies. The teacher took a deep breath and adjusted his posture in his chair, facing the students but not really looking at them.

"Bring your journals up. See you all tomorrow," he said softly, probably not loud enough for those in the back to hear. Regardless, the students quickly gathered their things and deposited their notebooks in a sloppy stack on top of his desk. A few whispered solemn goodbyes to their once favourite teacher, eyes filled with concern. Owen smiled without emotion and nodded to those that did, doing his best to acknowledge their efforts. It was really, really difficult. If he looked too closely at their faces, he suddenly became very afraid of never seeing them again. Would he forget his freckles? Would he remember her little mole? His thick eyebrows, her chapped lips? Owen knew that he couldn't obsess over all of their features, but the more he stared at that black and white picture on the worn newspaper, the more he forgot what Adam actually looked like.

"Hey, Mr. Porter..." a young student said, holding his notebook to his chest. "We... we understand how you feel."

Owen looked up, eyes lighting up just the tiniest bit.

"It's... it's hard. I know you're trying. We're trying, too. We'll all get through this, okay?" the boy continued, and then put his journal down.

"Thank you, Benjamin," Owen said, feeling present for the first time that day. "You're a good kid."

Benjamin gave a small smile and ducked his head, then left the classroom. Owen ran a hand through his hair, letting out a big sigh. He had to stop being so morose. He knew the students were worried, and perhaps even scared. I'm the adult, Owen thought, I need to set the positive example here. I need to help them and bring their spirits up.

The classroom was soon silent, and Owen looked towards the desks and scattered chairs. To his surprised, one student remained; staring at her notebook, hair slightly draped forward, and her face set in a distant gaze. He recognized her, and realized it was Stephanie. The girl who Adam had accompanied on the piano a few times. A rock sank to the bottom of his stomach as he thought of the two of them playing together. That duet would never happen again.

Instead of saying anything, Owen observed the silent girl, wondering what he should do. He had a feeling he knew exactly what she was going through, and didn't know if interrupting would help. This had been the last class held in this classroom for the day, so if she needed to sit quietly for a while... he certainly wasn't going to chase her out.

[Namingtoohard]

The silence that seemed to have permeated the classroom was almost palpable as the larger part of the students continued to work. The only sound that Stephanie could hear was that of her pen scratching across the paper, and those of her neighbours doing the same. Was it so quiet because everyone was focused on their work assignment, and wanted to give it their full intention? Stephanie somehow doubted that was the case. Were they merely trying to avoid drawing the teacher's ire upon themselves by speaking where it was not welcome? Now that seemed more likely. Some small part of the girl's mind whispered that it was simply the oppressive atmosphere that seemed to have fallen over the school ever since the incident/. Did the others feel it too, or was she simply being overdramatic? The girl didn't dare ask.

Stephanie tried to shove such thoughts to the back of her mind and focus on the task at hand, but with limited success. Indeed, the rest of the period seemed to pass in something of a blur, with little to distinguish it from every other class she had taken that day. Eventually she managed to squeeze out an ending to her task - it was hardly the best project that Stephanie had ever written, but she simply didn't seem to have the energy or motivation to do any more. She would set her pen down and flick the notebook closed, though she made no move to pull out her book as the teacher had instructed. Instead, she settled for staring off into space absentmindedly, lost in her own thoughts.

Stephanie didn't even seem to notice as the bell rang, and the other students quickly began packing up their things. If she had heard it, the student made no move to join the others. She remained motionless as they all filed out one by one, stopping by the teacher's desk briefly to offer him their work and perhaps exchange a few simple words. Her gaze remained fixed on the one desk up ahead that had remained empty throughout the lesson, and was currently adorned with a generous selection of flowers.

So many flowers. Everyone seems so eager to pay their respects, but I doubt half those people said so much as two words to Adam before he...

Stephanie left the thought there, not wanting to dwell on the matter for any longer than was totally necessary. She would tear her eyes away from the empty desk, and was quickly struck with the sudden realisation that everyone else had left. Well...almost everyone else. The teacher remained, seated at his desk for the time being. Had he been waiting for her to leave before he locked up or something like that?

Struck with the sudden realisation of her tardiness, Stephanie would finally make a move, pushing her chair out and climbing to her feet. She would gather up her bag and sling it over her shoulders, before grabbing her violin case by the handle. She would grab her notebook in her free hand, before slowly making the walk up to where his desk was located, at the front of the room.

"Ah...sorry for the wait, sir" she would offer meekly, setting her notebook down atop the pile that the other students had left. Stephanie would quickly turn to leave, but something held her back for a moment. She would glance across at the teacher again, standing there in silence for a moment. Finally, she would open her mouth to speak.

"Mr. Porter...is...are your music sessions going to start up again any time soon? Some of the other students have been talking about how they've missed out of late. They're worried that the tutoring might stop altogether" she said simply. It felt a foolish thing to ask, considering that the teacher likely had much more serious things weighing on his mind, but she asked regardless. The girl wasn't expecting much in the way of an answer - a simple yes or no would suffice to satiate her curiosity, and having any sort of answer to give the others seemed like it would be a positive thing.

[Marimo]

"That's alright, Stephanie. Thank you."

Owen watched as the girl placed her journal atop the sloppy pile, then looked up as she hesitantly spoke once more. He would be lying if he said he hadn't been dreading this conversation. The first week of his absences were understandable, the second started to raise questions, and now... there seemed to be genuine concern.

"I'm sorry," the teacher started, letting out an honest sigh and scratching his eyebrow, "I feel bad that you had to ask me that. I am going to resume the sessions, starting today. It's just been hard to..." he paused, looking down, uncertain if he should divulge such information to a student. Owen hadn't had the chance to talk to anyone about what had happened, let alone someone who knew Adam personally. This fact made him inclined to continue.

"It's been hard to go into that room. The music room. I see the piano, and..."

He couldn't finish his sentence. Perhaps there was no way of finishing it; just like Adam's death, it was abrupt and vague and had no further explanation. Owen had not touched the piano since his student's passing. Even just looking at the black and white keys was usually too painful to bear, to the extent that Owen had closed the piano cover on his old upright in his apartment, which had never been closed before. It was now covered with various shirts and books, dust settling on the dull wood and quickly becoming something seemingly untouched. Realizing that his thoughts were starting to drift once more, the man cleared his throat and adjusted the notebooks so that they made a neat stack.

"I'll let the others know personally, of course, but feel free to relay the message. Thank you for being so diligent. You're keeping it together better than I am," he admitted sheepishly, chuckling in his light self-deprecation.

"What have you been working on lately?" Owen asked, motioning towards the girl's violin. He hadn't intended on having such a long conversation -- which was probably already the longest conversation he had had in weeks -- but now that he was feeling like he could be honest with his thoughts, he couldn't seem to stop. Grief had been so incredibly lonely.

[Namingtoohard]

A simple nod of acceptance followed the teacher's admission that the lessons would be resuming shortly, accompanied by a wan smile. Stephanie didn't have as much invested in the answer as some of the other musically-inclined students, given both the man's speciality in the piano and her own status as little more than an irregular accompanist, but it would be nice to pass some measure of good news on. She enjoyed the thought of being able to lift the spirits of her friends with something positive, given how gloomy the past few weeks had proven. Of course, any words in the way of a reply quickly died on her lips as Owen continued, and his explanation quickly turned the mood sour again.

In the face of such thoughts, she couldn't help but feel any words of consolation would prove woefully inadequate. Instead the girl simply nodded, head tilted down slightly. His admission that she seemed to be doing better was somewhat unexpected, but Stephanie was not in a position to complain - perhaps she was simply masking herself better than she thought. Regardless, the girl felt an ironic smile flickering across her features, and she quickly directed her gaze elsewhere - making like she was glancing out the window in an effort to hide it.

"I'll give them a heads-up. It'll be nice to share some good news" she offered simply, forcing another smile. Her attention was quickly dragged back to the matter at hand as the teacher questioned after her own musical pursuits, however, making his intentions clear with a simple gesture. Her eye drawn by his movements, the girl would glance down at the case in her hand briefly, before looking back up at the man.

"Nothing at the moment, I'm afraid. Its been kind of tough to work up the motivation to go looking for a new piece at the moment, but I'll get round to it eventually. I've been playing enough to maintain some level of skill, but not much more" she offered rather simplistically, though she kept her gaze averted. The answer felt weak, even to her ears. After a brief cause, she would let out a soft sigh, before continuing.

"I had been working on learning Kreisler, but...well, there doesn't seem to be much point now" she would finally offer, thus revealing the true cause of her momentary lapse. Kreisler was a rather well-known composer, who had written arrangements for everything from Operetta to String Quartet. He had only written two solo violin pieces in his lifetime, however, whilst writing dozens for violin and piano together. The implication of her words hung heavy in the air - the girl had been trying to learn a new piece to play together with Adam, before the 'incident' had ensured they would never get the chance.

[Marimo]

At the mention of Kreisler, a bittersweet smile appeared on Owen's lips. Yes, he remembered the piece vividly:
Liebeslied. It had been one of the first accompaniments he had ever learned, and had therefore suggested it for Adam to play with a violinist. It was difficult to differentiate the two memories, one of his younger self playing with someone who's name he's already forgotten, and the boy who had played it perhaps even better than he had. Owen looked at Stephanie, and could tell there were things left unsaid. How couldn't there be? The two had obviously spent enough time together to practice their duet; just like Owen could not approach his piano, perhaps Stephanie could not venture into certain songs on her violin.

"Right..." the man started, averting his gaze once more. What could he say? Just keep playing? There's always a point? What sort of influence would those words have, if any?

"It's a beautiful piece though, isn't it?" he continued, his voice softer than before. His fingers picked at the edge of a worn notebook wedged in the pile. "I hope you don't lose it from your repertoire forever."

Feeling a little sheepish about continuing on about such a tender subject -- with a student, no less -- Owen chuckled forcefully and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. Of course she's uncomfortable, what am I doing?

"I'm sorry to keep you here, Stephanie. I guess... I guess I just wanted to say what I've been afraid to say for the past few weeks. But perhaps I shouldn't have burdened you with that. I suppose I opened up because of our musical connection to..."

Could he say his name out loud? Owen didn't think he had said it yet. In his mind, yes, but even then it was a very small whisper only mentioned once or twice. The boy's image was stuck in his head, but it was easier to pretend like it was just a dream by not giving him his name. Suddenly it felt so immature, to be trying so hard to run away from such a small thing. It almost felt disrespectful.

"Our musical connection to Adam," Owen finally finished, the breath in his lungs whooshing out with the last consonant. It felt like a piece of him had just floated away; he felt empty.

"Anyway, I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I just hope you're doing alright." Owen gave a sincere smile and got up from his chair. "You can always come talk to me, if you need to... about anything." He left it vague, hoping to appeal to the girl. Thinking for a moment, he paused and then added, "but I also understand if you'd prefer not to. That's okay too."

[Namingtoohard]

Owen's praise for the piece they had chosen and the gentle encouragement that accompanied it were both met by a wry smile. Stephanie did not doubt that his words were genuine and well-intentioned, but she was not willing to commit to an outright answer at that exact moment. She couldn't have imagined trying to play the song with anyone else at that particular moment, but who was to say that would always be the case? Perhaps one day she would find it less daunting, or even think it a fitting ode, a way to remember her companion and his passing in a more positive light.

Regardless, Stephanie did not shy away from the mention of Adam's name when her teacher finally spoke it. No, she did not seem to possess the same aversion that seemed to plague Owen himself. Still, there was definitely a change, even if it was more subtle. A tinge of sadness seemed to creep into her visage, laying hidden just beneath the surface. Nothing so dramatic or obvious as tears or an upset expression - more a lingering pain, hidden just behind her eyes. A proverbial wound that was yet to close, or even stop bleeding, so that it might begin to heal. An affliction not of the body, but of the soul.

"I appreciate the offer, sir, but..." the girl would start, before trailing off half-heartedly. Part of her hesitated, thinking that it might be better if she kept her thoughts on the matter to herself, before finally relenting.

"With all due respect, perhaps you should focus on looking after yourself before worrying after me. You did say I seemed to be holding it together better, after all" she would point out, forcing another smile. This time, she consciously held back any comments about how appearances and reality could very well differ on that point. Be it altruism or denial, Stephanie didn't want to burden the teacher with her own worries. Not when he clearly had so many of his own to deal with at the present moment.

At least I seem like I'm doing okay. If it stops other people worrying about me quite so much, then that certainly counts for something

Regardless, the girl would be quick to continue, suddenly worried that she had overstepped her bounds with such a frank and direct observation. Owen was reaching out to her, after all. The last thing she wanted was to shun his efforts outright, in a way that might cause him offence.

"I just...I think its still a bit too soon to be talking these things over. I'll be sure to take you up on that offer if the need suddenly strikes me, though. I promise" she offered, raising her free hand as if she were swearing an oath. Hopefully that would serve to put him further at ease, or at least alleviate any chances of him worrying after her.

"If that's all, I had best be going. I'll see you next English class, if not before" she said. Provided the man did not say or do anything else to stop her, Stephanie would take that as her opportunity to withdraw, slipping out the room ahead of Owen so that she might begin her journey home.

[Marimo]

Owen immediately felt like his words weren't exactly welcomed, and the realization made the back of his neck hot. Rubbing it with one hand and giving the girl an apologetic smile, he tried to salvage the end of the conversation the best he could.

"Of course, Stephanie. I'm sorry you had to listen to me ramble on," Owen paused, glancing at the door the girl was heading towards, "You're kinder than I deserve. I just hope you're managing okay, in what is such a... hard-to-manage situation."

Walking in tandem, the slightly flustered teacher opened the door wider and stood inside as Stephanie began to depart.

"Let's just try to keep our heads up, yeah? If anything, you're the one who helped me out today."

After a sheepish smile and a small wave as she left, Owen closed the door and leaned back against it, letting out a big sigh. His hands fell over his face and he stood like that, somewhat defeated, for a few moments before muttering under his breath. The stack of journals on his desk called out to him, and he looked at them wearily. Would he be able to find solace or inspiration between their pages? What did Stephanie write? he wondered. Curiosity wasn't enough to motivate him as he slid down to the floor, balancing his arms on his bent knees.

Nothing had prepared him for this. When he had imagined teaching as a young adult, he thought the hardest thing he'd have to deal with are mouthy students, cafeteria food and the teacher's lounge. His career as a teacher was going to be straightforward, mundane, just something to keep him paying his rent and playing piano in his free time. Not even two years into his position as an English teacher slash music supervisor, and he already felt like he had failed. Students should disappear because of graduation... not death. Even then, he was never really good at goodbyes.

Having done enough sulking, Owen pushed himself up and let his weight fall into his desk chair. Picking up the journal at the top of the pile, he began to flip through the pages. A+, A+, A+... there was no question that Stephanie was a star student. Had her handwriting changed in the past two weeks? Were the selected words different than usual? He wasn't sure; perhaps he was projecting. His own handwriting had turned into a scrawl and he subconsciously tried to avoid words with any negative connotation. Is she better at hiding it, or am I truly a wreck?

With that last thought, Owen began to work his way through the pile with nothing but the sound of rustling paper and of his shallow breath to keep him company.

[Namingtoohard]

The days seemed to pass like minutes to Stephanie, and the last day of the school week seemed to arrive before she had even realised. Perhaps rather predictably, the young student spent a significant amount of that time dwelling on the passing of her accompanist, and the fleeting conversation that she had shared with her teacher. Had she made a mistake in rejecting his offer of help outright in the manner that she had? Was there anything else she could have done to try and make things easier on him? She pondered such questions more than once, but struggled to reach any sort of definite conclusion on the matter. Answers, it seemed, would not be so easy to come by.

When Friday arrived and the final school bell tolled, Stephanie would depart her science class alongside the rest of the students. She walked through the hallway with bag and case in hand, feeling strangely detached from the other members of the crowd as they chatted and jostled and rushed for the exits. It almost felt like she was watching them all from a great distance, instead of actually standing amongst them herself. While the rest of her year - and the school's student body in general - all rushed for the exits, eager to get home or go out now that they were free, Stephanie decided on a different path.

She would fight against the current of students dragging her along, pressing deeper into the school building. Before she had gone too far, the larger parts of the crowd dispersed, and the going became much easier. She was left virtually alone, save for a few small groups of lingering students, chatting amongst their own little circles of friends. Stephanie ignored them, instead heading up to the next floor. For anyone who knew her, or who spotted the violin case she carried in one hand, her destination would likely have seemed obvious – the music rooms located on the second floor, reserved for practice sessions and the likes.

She would slip into the practice room on the second floor, glancing about briefly to check for anyone else. The room proved devoid of people, but was by no means empty. Several stands designed to accommodate sheet music stood scattered about, and a large piano sat in one corner, slowly collecting dust. Stephanie ignored it all.

She would set down her violin case, before slowly flicking open both of the clasps that held the lid shut. Stephanie gazed down at the instrument that lay within, and felt...nothing. The violin was of relatively cheap make, but held a great deal of sentimental value. She had always treated it special, with both extreme care and a strange sort of reverence. Since Adam had died, however, something seemed to be missing. Regardless, Stephanie would quickly scoop up both the violin itself and the accompanying bow, before stepping over towards the window. She would orient herself so that she was facing towards it, staring out over the school grounds. She wasn't planning on playing a set piece, and as such, had no need of any of her sheet music. She could likely have played most of the pieces from memory regardless, if she so wished.

Holding her violin by the neck, she would lift it up and settle into stance. Slowly, Stephanie would allow her eyes to drift closed, trying to arrange her thoughts. She remained totally unbothered by the obvious contradiction in her actions, denying herself the view that she had specifically chosen. If here was nobody else around, why worry about such a trivial matter?

After several moments of focus, the girl would let out a soft sigh. Once again, inspiration seemed reluctant to approach her. Still, Stephanie wished to practice, and so practice she would. Raising her bow, the girl would strike an opening chord, allowing the crisp and clean notes to linger in the air. She would force herself to begin, starting with a few simple scales as a warm-up.

Mm...no. The notes just aren't cooperating today

After a few moments of playing, Stephanie was forced to accept facts. While mechanically acceptable, her music was somewhat mechanical - devoid of any real emotion. She would give up on her vain attempt at playing for the moment, lowering both her bow and violin to stand idle for a moment.