10. Wolfe
wolfe
We did have good weather. The wind was utterly still, and the sky was so blue it looked painted.
Sunlight reflected off the endless snow as I drove and focused on the road and kept my hands on the wheel.
The truck had gone to Billings as often as I had, so could probably could have driven itself.
Still, it gave me something specific to focus on and not my passenger.
Blue was sitting upright in the seat, looking out at the passing landscape with as much wide-eyed astonishment as though he’d landed on the moon.
He’d dragged his fingers through his hair when he’d washed up, and now I wanted to buy him a comb so that, yes, I could comb it smooth and tuck it behind his ears. Capture a moment between us to keep.
“Are those mountains?” he asked, leaning forward, coming into my thoughts.
“Yes,” I said, looking at the lumps and curves of purple snow-topped mountains I knew were seventy miles away.
It was good to see those mountains again, good to know the vista views I’d grown to love had survived the blizzard.
“To the right are the Crazy Mountains, and in the middle is the Bangtail Range, I think.” I squinted and ducked my head.
“The one to the left is the Beartooth Range.”
“It’s pretty,” he said. Then he looked at me and said, “You’re lucky to live here.”
“I am,” I said. My life was hard-carved compared to folks in the big city, and I’d come a very long way from home to find it. But it suited me. And seeing it through those big blue eyes of his made me appreciate it all the more.
We ate Mabel’s brownies, which had far more pecans than the recipe called for, and, back and forth, shared the cup that came with the thermos, drinking that sweet, milky tea the entire way to Billings. Blue had a smear of chocolate on his lower lip that he licked away.
My hands curled on the steering wheel, and I made as though the troughs of road between the lines of snow and ice left over from an early morning blading were more treacherous than they were.
Blue didn’t know he was doing what he was doing, of course he didn’t.
But it was as though he’d slipped in between my ribs, and I felt him there with every breath.
It wouldn’t be right to want any of what my body wanted, of course it wouldn’t.
He was far from home, and I was keeping the knowledge of who he was a secret because of what I’d read online about his family.
I would be glad when his memory came back.
But would I be glad when he left? I was beginning to think the answer was no.
We pulled into Billings just as Blue chomped down the last of the brownies. I took the exit at the Dairy Queen end of town, where the free clinic was and my friend Dr. Tanaka had agreed to see Blue in exchange for a braided hatband I would make for him.
He’d told me over the phone that this agreement only held if there was nothing wrong with Blue beyond what I’d described. Anything above that and all bets were off, and he’d be admitting Blue to a hospital.
I pulled into the parking lot of a single-level brick building, longer than it was wide, looking a little worse for wear, icicles dripping from the metal roof.
“I don’t want to go in there,” Blue said, his back pressed against the seat as he read the sign that said Billings Free Clinic. “I don’t have to.”
“Look,” I said, being as patient as I could because I’d sprung this on him.
“You had those episodes. You know, where you ran into the snow barefoot? And when you thought the silence when the blizzard stopped was scary? They’re called fugues.
They can happen with amnesia. The doc is a good guy.
He’s just going to make sure you’re okay.
I’m making him a hatband, so there’s not going to be a paper trail.
” This last part was only important to me because I knew, or felt I did, that he would not want his family to find him.
I had a feeling he would agree with me if he didn’t have amnesia.
A man came out of the clinic, got into his car, and drove away, steam roiling up from his tailpipe. The only person in the clinic now was Tanaka. We had a brief window to get Blue in and out without anyone knowing he was there.
Blue’s expression was mulish, mouth drawn, eyes hooded, him looking at me as if he was trying to figure out how to get out of the truck and run off without me catching him.
Because I’d have to, wouldn’t I. It was either that or leave him to wander around Billings in the freezing cold with no money or any idea where to go.
“You’re not my prisoner,” I said. I scratched my head, trying to think how it would feel if our positions were reversed.
Me without my memory, sitting in a truck in a town I did not know, with some crazy bastard wanting me to see a doctor when everyone I met was a threat.
“I am trying to help you. I want to buy you some sturdy boots, but I’ll throw in a pair of blue Converse high tops if you’ll let the doctor take a look at you. ”
He was still mad about the fact that his sneakers had melted to the point where I’d thrown them away, but I could see a flicker of interest in his eyes. “How do you make a hatband?”
“I’ll let you help me,” I said. “It’ll be of braided leather with colored string sewn in between the braids.”
“That sounds like it’s worth a lot more than a doctor’s visit,” he said with a sniff.
“I’m trying to build a business,” I said. “The exposure will be good.” My hands tightened on the steering wheel. I shut the engine off. “Would it help if I said please?”
He looked at me with the faintly abstract judgment of a three-year-old who had been taught that manners matter, and was waiting for the grown-up in front of him to prove it.
“Please,” I said. “It’ll make me feel better.”
“Will you stay with me?” he asked, judgement falling away to be replaced by fear.
“I won’t leave your side,” I said, rather than some banal platitude that he might not believe anyway, about how doctors were helpers and the last thing Tanaka wanted to do was hurt him.
I turned off the truck, and we went inside. Dr. Tanka, in his white lab coat, was waiting for us in the small reception area, and I suspected he’d been looking through the blinds trying to figure out what was keeping us. I shook his hand.
“This is Blue,” I said. “I told him he’s in expert hands, so don’t let me down.”
Blue looked dubious as Dr. Tanaka led us into the first of two exam rooms, a brightly lit, sterile room with hard edges and metal-topped counters. As I took off Blue’s coat and gray hoodie, Tanaka tugged at the stethoscope around his neck, then paused.
“Blue, would you like Wolfe to leave?” Tanaka flicked a glance at me. Blue was his patient now, and his needs came first.
“No.” Blue’s voice shook on that single word, a flick of a gaze at me, keeping Tanaka in his sights as though the doctor was actually some kind of poisonous snake. “He can stay.”
Tanaka started by doing that thing doctors did, which was to get Blue to sit on the padded exam table, the miserably thin paper covering rustling, serving no purpose.
He cupped Blue’s head and pressed his fingers beneath Blue’s jaw, while Blue sat utterly still, frozen, watching Tanaka exactly like he would a snake who had unpredictable strike patterns.
When Tanaka cupped the back of Blue’s head, Blue winced.
“There’s a bump here. A little swollen,” Tanaka said. “But not too bad. I see the cut. It’s clean and healing nicely.” He took a light and flicked it across Blue’s eyes, and turned it off, nodding. “Good pupil reaction. I don’t believe you have a concussion.”
He took the stethoscope from around his neck, placed the ends in his ears, and held the scope in his hands to warm it. “Can you take off your shirt?”
If Blue was resistant before, he was frozen now. I’d only seen the curve of his naked body when I’d helped him with the bath, looking away, giving room for privacy. A flurry of helpful movements. But here in this room, all was still, and all eyes were focused on Blue.
“Um,” I said, intending to step in, to say, That’s enough now, to take Blue to the truck so we could be on our way. So I didn’t have to see Blue’s face turning white the way it was, his shoulders coming up in a hunch, the jitter of his knee. He certainly expected something bad to happen.
I stepped closer, my hand reaching out. In another heartbeat, I was going to put an end to all of this and get Blue the hell out of there, even though, in reality, it was a simple exam from a doctor with the best intentions.
All at once, Blue ducked his head and pulled off the shirt I’d loaned him, a thick gray Henley, oversized on his thin frame. And he was thin.
With the shirt bundled in his lap like a talisman of protection, I stopped myself from drawing a breath.
You could see his spine. You could see—I closed my eyes, but I’d seen the marks on his body.
In prison, you could tell when someone had been burned with cigarettes.
Or hit with something that left permanent marks.
White lines on a diagonal across his back.
Red raised skin, a thin rope where the skin had been opened by a belt buckle, or something with built-in stiffness.
“Do these hurt?” asked Dr. Tanaka. “You have a lot of scars.”
“No,” said Blue, his voice a little wobbly. Like he wasn’t sure whether or not they hurt, or maybe he was surprised to learn he had scars, since he couldn’t see them.
I opened my eyes. Tanaka was touching one of the circular burn marks on Blue’s left shoulder blade, and I could see the compassion in the doctor’s eyes. Blue was shaking his head, turning his head to look at me.
Maybe he was worried I would find him hideous, but that could never be true.
I wanted to take him home and wrap him in a blanket and feed him until he filled out and his ribs didn’t show.
And I’d find something, some potion or tincture to rub into his scars and make them go away.
But they never would. Only death could erase scars like that.
But they could be made soft so they wouldn’t hurt when the body turned and skin stretched.
Tanaka quickly listened to Blue’s heart and lungs, perhaps rushing a bit to get it over with.
“You can put on your shirt now,” he said, and as the cloth settled over Blue’s shoulders, Tanaka laid a gentle hand on his arm and looked at me. His eyes were dark, and he seemed to ask, Who did this?
I shook my head because I didn’t know. Blue had once known, but maybe it’d be better if he forgot forever, because if I found out, it might result in a murder worth going back to jail for.
“What I found works is jojoba oil,” said Tanaka, directing his words to me as though we were in the middle of a general conversation about scars.
Like two housewives in a commercial, filmed in the vegetable aisle.
“Any kind like that. Jojoba. Castor oil. Blackseed oil. A combination. Maybe a bit of scent added in. Essential oils, to mark the healing each time the oil is used.”
“I can get those,” I said, the promise steady in my voice. I helped Blue with his hoodie and coat. “I’ll be working on that hatband as soon as we get home.”
“I look forward to the result,” said Dr. Tanaka, and he showed us out of the clinic.
Once in the cold, bright, sunshiny air, I could take a deep breath.
“Okay?” I asked, looking over the hood of the truck at Blue, at the puffs of frozen air coming out of his mouth, the dark depths of his eyes. “I’m glad to know you don’t have a concussion, but if you’re going to hate me forever, then it won’t have been worth it to make sure.”
“I don’t hate you,” he said without a second’s hesitation.
Then he looked to the side, eyes glancing at the sky, maybe thinking of the layers of mountains that you could have seen, if not for the buildings in town and the way Billings was built in the lee of a low rise.
“It just brought back memories, and they’re not good. ”
“Memories?” I asked.
“Flickers,” he said, an inscrutable answer that I suspected he didn’t want to dig deeper into.
“Let’s go get you those boots,” I said. “And sneakers,” I added when a hint of a glare grew in his eyes. “Maybe pizza before we head back. You up for that?”
“Yes, please,” he said, utterly polite as always. “I remember I like it.”
“So, a good memory,” I said. I got in and started the truck, shivering as the heater’s warmth filled the truck’s cab like the embrace of an old friend.
“Yes,” he said. I felt the focus of his attention.
He was looking at me as though making a list of memories that were good, so he could focus on those rather than the bad ones that gave him nightmares.
And I felt it in my heart of hearts, the wish that I was on that list. Maybe somewhere near the top.