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, Ithink.” 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 saidBillings 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 wantto 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.
