“I don’t know why this is such a big deal,” Tean said.
“It’s not.”
Tean put a hand on Jem’s chest.The smell of menthol drifted up to him again.“I just wanted to do something nice for you because I love you.”
“I love you too.”
For a few fraught seconds, Tean perched there, staring down at him.Then he said, “I need to wash my hands.”
A slash of light.Running water.And then the dark again, and the sound of Tean padding toward the bed.
Jem lay there, staring up at the ghost of the ceiling, wide awake.Until he slept.
He wasn’t sure what woke him.The thin light through the blinds was unchanged, the room still swallowed by darkness.He tapped his phone, and the screen said 3:07.He reached across the mattress and found cool sheets.No trace of Scipio’s soft snores.
The door.That was what had woken him: the front door closing.
He’ll come back.He always comes back.He can’t sleep, and he’s trying not to bother you, and it helps him, going on these walks, by himself in the dark.So, just wait for him to come back.And eventually, it won’t be like this anymore.
But it would be another night of pretending to sleep and lying awake.Another night of minutes crawling by until they slowly built into hours.Another night of not knowing if Tean had fallen and gotten hurt, if he’d gotten mugged, knifed, shot, hit in the head, run over by a car.Another night of worry getting bigger and bigger until it sat on his chest like panic.
Jem threw back the covers.He banged around in the dark, jammed a toe against the dresser, and swore.He hopped over to the lamp and turned it on.By that time, Scipio stood in the doorway, one ear flipped up like he’d stumbled out of bed just as bedraggled as Jem.
“You look like a mess,” Jem told him.
Scipio lay in the hall, head on his paws, and watched as Jem found jeans, a sweatshirt, and socks.The socks made Scipio perk up.
“Come on,” Jem said.
He stepped into his ROOS, didn’t bother with lacing them up, and helped Scipio into his harness.When they went outside, the cold met them like a hand, trying to push them back into the house.Jem doubled the leash around his fist and started down the block.
Their street was quiet except for the buzz of the streetlights.Farther off, sirens whined somewhere in the valley.It could be anything.Anywhere.It didn’t have to be Tean.They lived near the University of Utah Hospital.Ambulances came and went at all hours of the night.It was a level-one trauma center, which meant all the worst cases had to come here.If you’d been stabbed.If you’d been shot.If some gang-banger hadn’t liked the look of you and tried to kick you to death.
Jem had no idea which way Tean went on these walks, so he flipped a mental coin and started down.He passed home after home.Darkened windows looked out at him.The street stayed empty.He waited for something—an Uber bringing someone home, or a night owl puttering about in the living room, even an animal digging around in a garbage can.A possum.A raccoon.They had a retired English professor as a neighbor, a few doors up, and he’d said the best way to get rid of the possums was to bring back wolves.
After a few blocks, none of it felt real anymore.The cold made Jem feel awake, alert, although a part of him knew that his brain was still shaking off sleep.But contrasted with that sense of alertness were the blacked-out houses, the flood of amber light, the fuckingalonenessof it all.It was like being on the moon.It was like being in a dream.Or a nightmare.You have this life, and you have a family, and then, all of a sudden, it’s just you, and everyone’s gone.
He’d gone looking for her on a night just like this.Gotten the bedroom window open, climbed out, and started walking.He’d been too little to understand what was going on.Why she wasn’t there anymore.Why he was in a different house.Why the man shouted at him when he wanted to watch cartoons.And so he’d gone looking for her.He didn’t remember their names, or where the house was—just somewhere in the valley.But he remembered stopping at street corners.Checking both ways.Looking for her.Like she was a place he could go back to.
But you can’t go back, he thought, blinking against the fresh edge of wind, leaning into it, checking both ways.And sometimes people leave, and you can never find them again.
20
Clouds had moved in overnight; the sky was the color of an old pair of Jockeys, and the pennants at Little Dick’s Chevrolet drooped above the lot.Kristie had pushed the copier too hard, and the stink of overheated toner leaked into the showroom to mix with the smell of new tires.Pete was cutting slices of summer sausage with his pocketknife that he never washed.In the next cubicle, Brian was laughing.
Huddled over a mug of coffee, Jem gave the cards on the screen a poke with the mouse and tried not to think.About anything.About the Valium Denise kept in her top drawer.
The morning had passed in a blur; with Tean’s truck—technically, the DWR’s truck—still missing, Jem and Tean had gotten up extra early so that Jem could drive Tean to work on the Kawasaki and still make it to Little Dick’s on time.The doc had looked like a wreck.Jem hadn’t felt much better.The good part was that taking the bike meant that there hadn’t been any chance to talk—although Teanhadgotten in a few shouted comments about lane-splitting.
In the next cubicle, Brian laughed again at whatever Little Dick had said.
“That’s hilarious, man,” Brian said.“That’s hilarious.You’re hilarious.”
The hilarious part, Jem thought, was a guy in his forties calling everybodyman.
“Yeah,” Little Dick said.“You know I’m hilarious, you dumb piece of shit.Did you know that’s what you are, Brian?You’re just a stupid piece of shit.”
“Oh man,” Brian said, laughing even more loudly now.“You got me!You zinged me!”