"Ten thousand?"
"A little more." He opened the book and read.
"Ten thousand, five hund
red, and seventeen at the
moment. Is that enough?"
"Sure is." Heyden said, brightening. "We're not
taking his money," I insisted.
"No, you're not taking it." Uncle Linden said.
"I'm giving it to you as payment."
"Payment? Payment for what?" I asked quickly. "For taking me, too." he said. smiling. "You're
free to use it for whatever expenses are involved for
the three of us."
Neither Heyden nor I spoke. We looked at each
other and then at Uncle Linden.
"You want to leave Florida?" I asked.
"Oh. I know everyone thinks I'm comfortable
and about as happy as I can be living here. I know
exactly where I am and what it means. I stay because I
don't want to be in anyone's way or make any more
trouble than I have already made for my family. What
little family I have, that is.
"But," he continued, crossing the room to look
out his window again. "I'm really dying here.
Sometimes. I feel like I'm in freeze frame, stuck and
unable to move backward or forward.
Don't misunderstand me-- everyone here has
always been good to me and pleasant. But I'm like a
flower, wilting.
"My sunlight comes from what I can paint, and
what I can paint here is limited to my memories,