More Than Human

He took out his keys and opened the door, stood back to let her pass in. ‘What did you want to do that for?’

‘Just wanted to,’ she said.

He was restless. He went to the closet and turned out the pockets of his two suit jackets and his sport coat. He crossed the room and pawed aimlessly at the dresser scarf and opened and shut drawers.

‘What is it?’

‘That thing,’ he said vaguely. He wandered into and out of the bathroom. ‘You know, that piece of pipe, like.’

‘Oh,’ she said.

‘I had it,’ he muttered unhappily. He took another turn around the room and then shouldered past Janie where she sat on the bed, and reached to the night table. ‘Here it is!’

He looked at it, flexed it, and sat down in the easychair. ‘Hate to lose that,’ he said relievedly. ‘Had it a long time.’

‘It was in the envelope they were holding for you while you were in jail,’ Janie told him.

‘Yuh. Yuh.’ He twisted it between his hands, then raised it and shook it at her like some bright, thick, admonishing forefinger. ‘This thing – ’

She waited.

He shook his head. ‘Had it a long time,’ he said again. He rose, paced, sat down again. ‘I was looking for a guy who… Ah!’ he growled, ‘I can’t remember.’

‘It’s all right,’ she said gently.

He put his head in his hands. ‘Damn near almost found him too,’ he said in a muffled voice. ‘Been looking for him a long time. I’ve always been looking for him.’

‘Always?’

‘Well, ever since… Janie, I can’t remember again.’

‘All right.’

‘All right, all right, it isn’t all right!’ He straightened and looked at her. ‘I’m sorry, Janie. I didn’t mean to yell at you.’

She smiled at him. He said, ‘Where was that cave?’

‘Cave?’ she echoed.

He waved his arms up, around. ‘Sort of a cave. Half cave, half log house. In the woods. Where was it?’

‘Was I there with you?’

‘No,’ he said immediately. ‘That was before, I guess. I don’t remember.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’

‘I do worry about it!’ he said excitedly. ‘I can worry about it, can’t I?’ As soon as the words were out, he looked to her for forgiveness and found it. ‘You got to understand,’ he said more quietly, ‘this is something I – I got to – Look,’ he said, returning to exasperation, ‘can something be more important than anything else in the world, and you can’t even remember what it is?’

‘It happens.’

‘It’s happened to me,’ he said glumly. ‘I don’t like it either.’

‘You’re getting yourself all worked up,’ said Janie.

‘Well, sure!’ he exploded. He looked around him, shook his head violently. ‘What is this? What am I doing here? Who are you, anyway, Janie? What are you getting out of this?’

‘I like seeing you get well.’

‘Yeah, get well,’ he growled. ‘I should get well! I ought to be sick. Be sick and get sicker.’

‘Who told you that?’ she rapped.

‘Thompson,’ he barked and then slumped back, looking at her with stupid amazement on his face. In the high, cracking voice of an adolescent he whimpered, ‘Thompson? Who’s Thompson?’

She shrugged and said, matter-of-factly, ‘The one who told you you ought to be sick, I suppose.’

‘Yeah,’ he whispered, and again, in a soft-focused flood of enlightenment, ‘yeah-h-h-h…’ He wagged the piece of mesh tubing at her. ‘I saw him. Thompson.’ The tubing caught his eye then and he held it still, staring at it. He shook his head, closed his eyes. ‘I was looking for…’ His voice trailed off.

‘Thompson?’

‘Nah!’ he grunted. ‘I never wanted to see him! Yes I did,’ he amended. ‘I wanted to beat his brains out.’

‘You did?’

‘Yeah. You see, he – he was – aw, what’s the matter with my head?’ he cried.

‘Sh-h-h,’ she soothed.

‘I can’t remember, I can’t,’ he said brokenly. ‘It’s like… you see something rising up off the ground, you got to grab it, you jump so hard you can feel your knee-bones crack, you stretch up and get your fingers on it, just the tips of your fingers…’ His chest swelled and sank. ‘Hang there, like forever, your fingers on it, knowing you’ll never make it, never get a grip. And then you fall, and you watch it going up and up away from you, getting smaller and smaller, and you’ll never – ‘ He leaned back and closed his eyes. He was panting. He breathed, barely audible, ‘And you’ll never…’

He clenched his fists. One of them still held the tubing and again he went through the discovery, the wonder, the puzzlement. ‘Had this a long time,’ he said, looking at it. ‘Crazy. This must sound crazy to you, Janie.’

‘Oh, no.’

‘You think I’m crazy?’

‘No’

‘I’m sick,’ he whimpered.

Startlingly, she laughed. She came to him and pulled him to his feet. She drew him to the bathroom and reached in and switched on the light. She pushed him inside, against the washbasin, and rapped the mirror with her knuckles. ‘Who’s sick?’

He looked at the firm-fleshed, well-boned face that stared out at him, at its glossy hair and clear eyes. He turned to Janie, genuinely astonished. ‘I haven’t looked this good in years! Not since I was in the… Janie, was I in the Army?’

‘Were you?’