6. Wolfe #2
“Blue,” I said. “Can I just even this out?” I wouldn’t if he said no, but it would kind of drive me crazy if he said no.
He deserved to look his best, not walk around like a half-shorn animal.
I lifted his hand to the back of his head, then drew his fingers along his hair.
“See? The knots are out, but it’s all ragged. ”
Blue drew his hand away, then placed both hands in his lap beneath the hair-flecked towel. Another fate. Another resignation.
“Okay,” he said, then drew in a breath to blow it out slowly as though he was preparing himself for a blow.
I kept his hair as long as I could, carefully combing through before trimming. I kept combing because it seemed to relax him, his eyes half closing, a soft flush on his cheeks. He was healing, though I didn’t know how long it would be before he got his memory back. I needed to call the doctor.
When I was finished, his hair was even, curling along the nape of his neck and his jawline, easing into waves with the weight of the tangles gone. He turned his head to look up at me as he felt through his hair. A flick of eyelash, a flash of blue eyes, terror easing, gratitude in its place.
“Thank you, that feels better,” he said.
His family had raised this boy to be a gentleman, only to push him to the point where he wanted nothing to do with them.
It was their own fault they were missing this, this moment, where, dressed in my old clothes, well, swimming in them, actually, he was as polite to me as if I’d been a visiting dignitary.
“Let’s get us something to eat,” I said as I wiped the scissors and comb with a towel. “Starting with hot tea, I think.”
I made tea, and Blue found the broom and swept up from the barber session, which I thought was nice of him, considering he wasn’t feeling his best. I started a pot of oatmeal, and while that was going, I checked the weather on my phone.
“Look,” I said to Blue, showing him the weather app. “They think it might slow down tomorrow. I’ll be able to start shoveling out.”
“Can I help?” asked Blue. He looked at me, completely unaware of what the question did to me, what his expression, so hopeful but so totally na?ve as to exactly how much snow was out there.
He didn’t know, didn’t have proper footwear, had received a terrific bang to the head, didn’t know who he was or where he was, and yet, he was still willing.
Maybe, had we been in prison together, he would have had my back and I his.
“Maybe,” I said. “You can certainly keep the tea going.”
We drank tea and had oatmeal with gobs of butter and cinnamon sugar, as well as the slices of bacon I quickly fried up.
If the storm was ending soon, I wouldn’t have to worry too much longer about feeding two mouths rather than one.
We could stuff our faces, nap, and be idle.
It was Sunday after all, and even though I’d lost my faith, the faith of my family, Sunday still felt like a day of rest to me.
“I can do more than make tea,” he said, after I’d done the dishes, checked his wrist, and re-wrapped the bandage on his ankle.
“Not without good boots, you can’t,” I said. I gave his ankle a pat. He was healing well, but then young men typically did.
Directing Blue to the easy chair, I was met with very little resistance, even when I wrapped him in a blanket and started a fire.
The room was cozy and warm, and he quickly relaxed into it, which, to me, was another sign of healing.
He was fully asleep, or at least dozing, when I went into my bedroom, closed the door most of the way, and dialed Dr. Tanaka’s number.
“Billings Clinic, this is Dr. Tanaka,” he said. “And look, before you ask, the clinic is closed due to the storm. I’m here, just in case and because I can walk to work.”
“Dr. Tanaka, this is Wolfe Bramwell.”
“Mr. Bramwell, hello, how is the hand?”
“It’s doing well,” I said. “Listen, I have a favor.”
“Shoot.”
“I have someone in my home who had a bad fall. He prefers to remain anonymous, and I wanted to run something by you.”
“Is he okay?” asked Tanaka, concern rising in his voice, though there wasn’t a darn thing he could do about it. “What are his symptoms?”
I described the situation, my theory that he’d been riding the rails for a while, that he’d fallen off, and went over his bangs and hurts.
“And his eyes, his pupils, react to light evenly?” asked Dr. Tanaka.
“Yes, they do,” I said. “He seemed feverish at first, but now he eats and rests and can hold a conversation.” I paused. “But there’s another thing. It’s got me concerned because I don’t know what it is.”
“Tell me,” he said.
I told him about how Blue had raced into the snow, barefoot, duffel in hand, sure that there was somewhere he needed to be.
“I’d love for you to bring him in when you can,” Dr. Tanaka said.
“So I could check him over just to be sure, but I’d say he’s going to be fine.
His memory will come back. As for going into the storm, I’m not a psychiatrist, but it sounds like a fugue.
A dissociative event. Patients with Alzheimer’s, dementia, people with bangs to the head, emotional trauma and, yes, amnesia, can get this.
A part of their brain is working on the problem of not quite knowing where they are.
It hooks into a memory it knows, an errand, perhaps, or something they were responsible for.
Some patients take medicine. In his case, it should fade with time. ”
“What should I do if it happens again?” I asked.
“Just what you did. Stay calm. Offer support. Offer security. Something soothing, like a warm drink.” I could almost see him nodding. “You did everything right. Bring him in when you can. I’ll be here all week.”
I hung up the call and went into the living room to poke at the fire, make sure Blue was properly covered, and go over a list of things that needed to get done. My life was the same as it had been before, but between now and the moment I’d discovered Blue on the road, it was completely different.