"I’m sorry your journey isn’t over yet, but this doesn’t have to be the end. We can find your answers, John."
"John.” I laughed, a broken sound. “Even that’s gone, even my name. It’s not John. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know anything. I don’t remember anything."
Quick as ever, Temple drew the right conclusion. "You, you have amnesia?”
I thought if I just made it here to the one place I held onto, everything else would sort itself out. I tried so hard to get here in order to find where I belonged and recover who I used to be. I failed. There was nothing here.
This place meant so much to me before today. I convinced myself it was everything. Suddenly I saw so many other possible explanations. Maybe I’d been running away and they snatched me around here. Or what if I’d eaten here once years ago and by sheer random chance it was the only scrap of a memory not obliterated? What if I just convinced myself of a place and destination out there where I belonged so that I didn’t feel so lost?
"All I had was this,” I said. “This location.” A freaking empty parking lot. “They thought I was guarding a secret, hiding my true nature. I believed them, I guess Iwantedto believe them. I believed my vague impression of this place meant something and I needed to keep it safe. But none of this means anything to me. There’s nothing here and…I don’t know what to do now. I don’t know who I am or where I belong. I’ve got nothing."
"That’s not true."
"My health?” I wondered about these assets of mine. “Barely. I keep testing the hell out of that. My freedom? I don’t even know what that means.”
“You’ve got me.” Temple stepped closer. “I’m a detective. I solve puzzles for a living. I’ll help you with this.”
Here I was, the guy who literally had nothing left to lose. Yet it didn’t feel like nothing to offer up my fragile trust. When Temple offered his hand, the gesture felt huge.
I took Temple’s hand and he helped me onto my feet. Choosing to accept his help felt like suddenly I had more than a moment ago.
The world shifted. I didn’t have what I expected or came here to find but I didn’t have nothing. I…I trusted him. This place was supposed to lead me somewhere and… I guess it did. It led to him.
Temple would help, he’d try, and I wasn’t alone anymore. I had him.
9.Not-so-True Detectives
John
Nothing to see here. Only two detectives about to start their new case. No big deal.
Temple met me at the nurse’s station on my floor in the morning. All my clothes looked about the same, but I was technically wearing the same sweatpants and t-shirt I fell asleep in. This already did not feel like business as usual, not to me. Our case dealt entirely with all the unanswered questions about me and where I came from.
At least the setting was familiar ground. I’d gone back to Better Tomorrow to finish my physical therapy. I’d also need the help of people more experienced with supernatural matters to figure out what I was. And who.
My past and any answers felt farther away than ever. I needed to learn more…but I wasn’t exactly excited about filling him in. In true detective fashion, Temple picked up on my hesitation immediately.
“Ready for this?” he asked while nodding hello to Delores at the nurse’s desk.
“Of course. We have a case to solve.” The mystery of Max.
When all my memories were stolen by magical assholes and only one tantalizing clue remained, I put all my hopes on it being the key to recovering everything. What other options did I have? But that clue was a dead end. My road trip hadn’t resulted in any answers, so we needed a different approach.
The detective offered me a slim paperback book before we began. Temple dropped off some books the first night I came back to rehab. He’d touched each one reverently and explained why I might like each novel so earnestly, the gesture and how much though he put into each selection touched me. It helped give me comfort after revealing my secret to him and when feeling lost.
This time, I managed a smile but didn’t even register the title. Time for business. He was the senior agent here, so I looked to him for guidance. “Where do we start?”
I braced myself for—
“Coffee,” he decided immediately. “Always start with coffee.”
Temple marched over to the small dining nook overlooking the courtyard. I trailed after him, grateful for a moment to gather my thoughts and fight back the growing pit of nerves in my stomach. The soft thuds of the cane hitting the floor seemed so loud in the relative quiet. Breakfast ended already, leaving only drinks like coffee and water in the dining area.
People liked eating breakfast here and seeing the sunlight rise to greet them. I preferred eating here too, if only because the main dining hall on the ground floor was too busy.
Not appreciating the bitter tang of coffee, I only had a cup of ice water, gripping it tightly as we were seated and the moment of truth arrived. Where did I even begin?
Temple had suggestions. “Go at your own pace. Whatever you feel comfortable with.”
