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I knew what amnesia caused by trauma meant, just like aspects of my likes and dislikes had returned. Other aspects of living a life like anyone else were easy to recollect. Why was it that I couldn’t grasp my name or where I lived?
Maybe because in doing so, I’d be forced to face the kind of man I was. Something told me I wasn’t a decent man by any stretch of the imagination. I heard a slight sound coming from the kitchen and instantly bristled. I’d be damned if I didn’t reach for a weapon that didn’t exist, my natural instincts taking over. That alone told me either I was a cop or lived my life on the other side of the law.
I had a feeling it was the latter.
The sound continued to capture my attention and I headed into the kitchen. Georgia had a Keurig machine on her counter, the coffeemaker flipping on automatically with a timer, the unit heating. I stared at it, something about studying the kitchen appliance stimulating a foggy memory. Unless I was nuts, I consumed several cups of coffee a day.
Even though I was certain of the slight memory, I continued to stare at the machine as if the small appliance could provide some answers. Maybe just by acting normal, whatever the fuck that meant in my world, I would start regaining some of my memory. What I sensed was that the longer I stayed here, the more I’d place my savior in danger. That was something I didn’t want.
Maybe there was some saving grace to me after all.
Another sound drew my attention and I stiffened just as I’d done before. As soon as I tipped my head over my shoulder, I felt a tail thumping against my leg as Max appeared. He sat back on his haunches, staring up at me as his tail now whapped against the floor. Leaning over, I scratched his head, enjoying the feel of his coarse fur between my fingers.
“Who are you?”
The small voice held none of the fear I’d heard from his mother’s, but his eyes were open wide. I hadn’t thought about what to tell the child about my existence, anticipating Georgia would make up some story. I turned around slowly, giving a quick scan of the hallway in hopes the boy’s mother would appear. When she didn’t, I took a deep breath and crouched down to his level. Max immediately placed his head on my thigh.
Something deep inside me had provided enough insight to tell me in no uncertain terms I was a bad man. But if so, why did the pup take to me so easily? And why did my chest ache from being close to the little boy? At this moment, I was thankful I was feeling anything. “I’m a friend of your mommy.”
“Oh.” I could tell his little mind was processing what I’d said. He scrunched up his face, peering at me with the most intense green eyes I’d ever seen. They were deeper than Georgia’s, the kid’s hair a mess of shocking blond curls that almost made him appear like a little girl. In his Spiderman pajamas, even a hard man like me had to admit he looked adorable. A fleeting image passed through the front of my mind, so quick that I almost didn’t grasp what I’d seen.
Another little boy in similar pajamas. Was it possible I was a father? No, I didn’t feel that in my gut or in my heart. “Is it okay I’m here?”
He studied me so intently it was as if he could see past the gruff exterior, discovering all my flaws. When he reached out, his little fingers touching the scruff of a three- or four-day beard, I felt every muscle in my body relax and I hadn’t known I was tense. With two exaggerated nods of his head, he gave me permission to be in his and his mother’s life.
I found it as strange as everything else that his simple action had given me a feeling of relief. “Are you thirsty, little man?” The image of the other child had faded away, leaving me with a sense that I had no clue how to deal with a child. That stripped away any thoughts of me being a father.
“Yep.”
“Well, then let’s find you something to drink.” I stood and when he put his hand into mine, I sucked in my breath. Kids were like dogs. They could easily detect a good versus a bad person. Should that give me a feeling of hope? I shook my head, laughing at the ridiculous thought, instead guiding him toward the refrigerator. I opened it and seeing milk, I almost high fived the air. At least that was good for a kid to drink.
I pulled it out, placing it on the counter and he took a step away from me. “Now, let’s see. Where are the glasses?” I lifted a single eyebrow as he cocked his head and I could swear the kid was testing me, trying to see if I had any idea where the dishes and glasses were kept. When I pulled out a tall crystal glass, I heard his giggle and shifted so I could see him. It was impossible not to smile seeing the kid’s wide grin.
“No,” he told me far too authoritatively for his young age.
“Did I do something wrong, little man?”
“No glass. Mama says so.”
“O-kay. What do you use?”
“Pwastic. Over dere.” He pointed to another cabinet, nodding over and over again as kids did.
I drifted my finger from the cabinet I’d already opened to the next one, lifting both eyebrows as I waited for his answer. He shook his head vehemently, so I moved to the next and the next one after that.
“No, silly. Dat one!” He pointed again at the one on the end and as soon as I opened it, I gasped.
“Oh, this one.”
He fell into a fit of giggles, his entire face lighting up. As I poured half a glass, I felt a pang in my heart. The kid was as innocent as they came, unaware of the world in which we lived. Or maybe the one I lived in.
His mother had managed to block out some of the ugliness just by where she’d chosen to live. Not that I knew anything about Smith Mountain Lake other than the setting was serene. I handed him the glass then returned to the cabinet where I’d seen the coffee mugs. At least he was content for the time being as I studied the colorful, eclectic pieces.
Best Dog Mom
Proud Mom of a Son
Dog Lover
