The Incredible Life of Jonathan Doe

by Carol Coffey

  “You believe me?” Jonathan said weakly.

  “Yes . . . I do.”

  Chapter 26

  Brendan and Jonathan were hiking alongside a stream in Hedden Park on the outskirts of Dover town on Monday morning. They stopped for a rest and studied the magnificent scenery around them. The park was silent except for the chirping of birds perched high up in the dense wood that surrounded them and the sound of water gurgling gently as it ran over the smooth stones at the bottom of the shallow stream. They could hear the muffled sound of a waterfall pouring over the rocks in the distance as it crashed down into the river below and the gentle wind that whistled through the trees high above them.

  “It’s peaceful here,” Brendan said.

  “Thought you didn’t like the quiet?” Jonathan asked.

  Brendan laughed. “I don’t. I’m just saying it’s nice, that’s all.”

  He exhaled noisily and sat on a large rock at the edge of the stream.Jonathan settled himself on another.

  Brendan’s thoughts turned inevitably to Kuvic. Thompson was out of town but, when Alice informed him about his attack on Eileen, he had arranged a board meeting for when he got back. Thompsonhad said that Kuvic would be fired this time.

  “I’m real glad Kuvic has been banned from the house,” Jonathan drawled, as if reading Brendan’s thoughts.

  “And I’m glad Eileen has filed charges against him. She says it’s not for her sake. I’m amazed that she doesn’t seem the least bit shaken by what happened. She says she’s doing it so that he doesn’t get a job again where he has control over vulnerable people.”

  “About that night . . .” Jonathan began.

  Brendan squirmed and reddened. He raised his hand.“It’s none of my business, Jonathan.”

  “No, hear me out,” he pleaded. “I was going to . . . going to ask Eileen to marry me.”

  “Marry you!” Brendan said. He could hear the surprise in his voice and saw his friend flush and look away.

  “Oh, I know youthink I have nothing to offer her,” Jonathan said, “but I can feel that a change is coming . . . I just know that I am finally going home and I intend to take Eileen with me.”

  “Now, look . . . Jonathan . . .” Brendan began as he watched his friend swallow nervously.

  “You’re calling me Jonathan again. You said you believed me.”

  “I do. But . . .”

  “But what?”

  “You don’t remember your last name and you don’t really remember where you are from, so how are we going to find Cassie in this huge country? She could be anywhere, in any small town or huge city from California to Virginia or from North Dakota to Texas. Do you know how many millions of people live in this country?”

  Jonathan cleaned his glasses in his shirt and, as he put them back on, he squinted through a clearing in the dense woods.

  “She’s out there somewhere. I know it. I’m going to find her, Brendan. I’m going to find my home.”

  Brendan looked down and tapped the dusty earth from his boots. The hope in his friend’s voice had returned and it hurt to see him so full of optimism.

  “I hope so,” Brendan replied. “I really do.”

  At eleven on Wednesday morning, Brendan ate breakfast in his own apartment before walking hesitantly to the shelter alone. Eileen had driven with Coleen to the hospital earlier that morning to bring her father home and he did not want to sit alone with his mother, who had not spoken one word to him since their row on Saturday night.

  It was a morning he was dreading. Jonathan was due at the housing department and arrangements had been made for him to view three vacant one-bedroom apartments in various parts of the town. The day before, he had tried to talk to Jonathan about the trip but his friend had refused to discuss it and only agreed to go with Brendan at Pilar’s insistence.

  When he arrived in the door, Pilar was sitting slumped on a chair in the hallway. She had been on night duty.

  “You still here?” he asked her.

  “Alice was taken into hospital late last night and, with Kuvic gone, I had to do a double shift.

  Brendan exhaled sharply.“Is she okay?”

  Pilar shook her head sadly.

  “What about Jane or Cathy?” he asked. “Could they come in?”

  “They’re already doing extra shifts this week to cover Kuvic. As soon as Thompson comes back, we’ll be able to advertise Kuvic’s job.” She looked up at Brendan. “You ready for today?”

  Brendan could hear the concern in her voice. She knew he was dreading today almost as much as Jonathan was.

  “I suppose so.”

  Brendan walked alongside Jonathan down the east section of the town’s main street towards the housing authority’s office. It was the first time they had walked down this end of town together and he noticed that each time a Hispanic man walked towards them, Jonathan inched closer to him and lowered his head nervously until they passed. He had noticed the same nervousness when they saw the two Hispanic men in New York and remembered how Jonathan had placed the diner’s tall menu onto the windowsill to block out his view of them. Several Hispanic women passed them on the same route, going about their daily business in the same way as the men, but Jonathan did not flinch and did not appear nervous of them. He wondered if this was why his friend had been afraid of him on that first day that they met, if his dark appearance had evoked a fearful memory, but he had no way of knowing what had been going on in Jonathan’s mind when the man himself could not remember why he had taken fright that day.

  When the two arrived at the housing office, a tall, skinny woman dressed in a neat navy suit stood waiting for them near the reception desk. She had thin brown hair tied tightly in a bun on the top of her head and her sallow skin was disfigured by large pockmarks over her cheekbones. Brendan ran his eyes over her face as he tried to think why she seemed so familiar to him.

  “Oh no,” Jonathan said quietly.“That’s Mila, Kuvic’s cousin. I was hoping she wouldn’t be working here anymore.”

  Brendan exhaled loudly, realising now why he thought he’d recognised the woman. She was the image of her rotten cousin. “Well, this ought to go well!” he muttered sarcastically.

  “Well, if it isn’t Jonathan Wyatt Nelson himself!” the thin woman gloated.

  Two women seated at desks in the background began to chuckle.

  “I just saw your sister Mackenzie. She passed by here, tired out from a hard day’s apple-picking,” she twanged, imitating Jonathan’s accent. “Now, you be sure to say hi to all the Nelson clan, won’t you?”

  The women began to laugh as John hung his head at the desk.

  “That’s enough!” Brendan roared.

  The smiles from the two women in the background slid slowly from their faces as they looked guiltily in Jonathan’s direction. Only Mila continued to sneer at Jonathan who had stepped behind Brendan in the airless office.

  “Now, I believe you have keys for us?” Brendan snapped, anxious to get out of there.

  Mila handed the keys to Brendan and gave them directions to the apartments.

  “Thanks for sticking up for me,” Jonathan said as the pair made their way back down East Blackwell Street towards their first viewing which was a mere block away.

  When they reached the building Brendan cringed as they stood at the bottom of the stone steps and stared at the grotty façade. Several of the tall building’s windows appeared cracked or broken and noise seemed to emanate from every corner of the seven-storey building. Children were crying and music boomed out of several apartments. Two unseen men argued about money and a woman, who came rushing out of the building’s main door, brushed past them, screaming and cursing at her companion, an elderly woman who shuffled slowly from behind the large chipped door. Brendan glanced at his companion who stood open-mouthed at the building’s entrance.

  “Brendan, do you know what ‘home’ means?”

  Brendan thought about Jonathan’s question for a moment. He ran his hands through his t
hick black hair and frowned.“It means, em, where you live, I guess.”

  Jonathan shook his head vehemently. “No, Brendan. It means where you are happiest. Home is the place where the people you love are. It’s the place where you feel peace, where you belong.” He glanced skyward at the shabby building.

  Brendan stared at his poetic friend. He had no answer to his words because he had never lived anywhere that felt like home to him.

  “Look, we’ll just see what’s it’s like inside,” hesaid, grasping Jonathan gently by the arm and leading the frightened man up the five litter-lined steps.

  Inside the apartment a small hall led to the bedroom where an old stained mattress, left behind by the previous occupant, stood on its side, covering the window and darkening the small, dismal room. They moved to the tiny kitchen whose walls were lined with grease. The smell of cigarette smoke hung in the air of the filthy room. The hand basin sat on the floor of the bathroom, broken in pieces while the pipe leaked small amounts of water onto the chipped mosaic floor, making a rhythmic, tapping sound in the silent apartment.

  “At least it’s soundproof,” Brendan joked, trying to make light of the situation. Both men moved towards the small living room. It was empty except for a purple-painted radiator under a large window that looked out onto the front of the building. The red-patterned carpet appeared wet under their feet, as though someone had made attempts to clean it.

  “Probably tried to clean up the blood from a murder or something,” Brendan joked but he could see that John had returned to the stupor he had been in the previous day. “Forget this place, Jonathan. There’s no way you’re moving in here. Let’s go see the next place.”

  But his friend did not respond.

  Brendan walked ahead as they made their way on foot down Carrol Street and swung left onto Lee Avenue. They stopped about halfway down the long narrow cul-de-sac and peered up at another block of similarly neglected housing-authority apartments. They took the lift up to the ninth floor and opened the door to the apartment which was situated at the end of a long narrow corridor. The entire apartment, which faced out onto the shaded side of the building, was covered in a shaggy straw-coloured carpet that smelled of animal faeces. An old rusted bird cage stood on top of the broken-down refrigerator, its open door hanging loosely on its hinges and a cat tray stood beside the cooker, still filled with the litter of the previous occupant’s pet.

  “Jesus!” Brendan said as he looked around the dingy apartment.“This place is even worse than the first!”

  A loud noise shot out from the floor below them.

  “Turn that TV down!” a voice screamed.

  Another voice retorted and hurled abuse in colourful language.

  “Nice neighbours,” Brendan quipped.

  “I don’t like apartments. I like houses,” Jonathan said, breaking the silence he had retreated into over an hour previously.

  “Come on,” Brendan replied.“Two down, one to go.”

  The final apartment was a ten-minute walk down the length of Richard’s Avenue. Brendan took out the paperwork and cringed when he saw that the cross street where the apartment stood was called Nelson Street which was a run-down road on the outskirts of the town’s main drag. Theaccommodation was listed as a two-bedroom apartment which Brendan knew the authority would not give to a single man, so he wondered if the cruel-hearted Mila had added it to their itinerary as a joke.

  When they reached the corner, they could see that the building was part of an older, low-rise apartment-block complex hidden behind the high-rise mall on Richard’s Avenue. They walked down to the entrance which was unfortunately on Nelson Street. Jonathan peered up at the sign and blushed. Brendan patted his back in support.

  They looked at the fifteen four-storey apartment blocks which were arranged along a semi-circular roadway facing a green area filled with washing lines and children’s toys. They walked underneath the stone entrance and peered at the numbers as they tried to decide which block the apartment was in. Brendan moved along the blocks followed by Jonathan until he came to the third building in the complex.

  “It should be this basement apartment,” Brendan said absent-mindedly as he studied the paperwork. He looked up at Jonathan to find his face had become taut with fear. “What’s the matter?”

  Jonathan’s eyes had become fixed on a group of Hispanic men who were sitting on stones steps that led down to one of the basement apartments.

  “Jonathan,” Brendan said, “come on. It’s okay. I’m with you. We’ll just go see it quickly. Please?”

  When his friend did not respond, Brendan reached forward and shook him to try to wake him from his stupor. Jonathan raised his arms defensively. Brendan flushed.

  “Jonathan, please don’t start this again. It’s me, Brendan. I’m not going to hurt you. Now, let’s just go and look at the apartment and get out of here quickly, please?”

  The men on the steps had begun to take an interest in the two strangers.

  Brendan reached forward and placed his hands on Jonathan’s shoulders.

  “Jonathan, it’s me. It’s Brendan. Please move,” he said. He placed his hand on Jonathan’s forearm and, knowing his friend was beyond reasoning with, he began to gently guide him away from the basement apartment. Two of the men sitting by the fourth building stood and began to walk towards them. Brendan swallowed.

  “Come on, Jonathan! Let’s get out of here!” he yelled but his friend fell down on his knees and began to whimper in Spanish.

  “Jesus!” Brendan whispered to himself.“Jonathan, get up! Look, we’ll leave here right now. We’ll go back to Pilar.”

  “¡No me lastime!” Jonathan cried.

  “Speak English!” Brendan pleaded. “Please, Jonathan, please get up!” He tried to lift his friend onto his feet.

  Jonathan slumped onto the ground and held his wrists together as though they were bound. “¡Por favor, no me ponga en la caja!” he cried as the two men joined them.

  “We don’t want no trouble here,” one of them said in a strong Hispanic accent.

  Brendan reached forward again and pulled Jonathan up onto his knees.

  “He’s my friend!” he said. “I’m not hurting him. I just want to get him out of here!”

  One of the men bent down and looked into Jonathan’s face. “This guy your friend?”

  Jonathan began to scream and kick out at the Hispanic who drew back and raised his leg to retaliate. Brendan jumped forward and held his arms out, blocking the men’s view of Jonathan.

  “He’s sick. He doesn’t mean any harm,” he pleaded. He knelt on the ground beside Jonathan and held his face in his hands. “Jonathan,” he said softly, “come with me.”

  But Jonathan continued to scream. “¡No me pongas en la caja!No me escaparé otra vez. ¡No lo haré, Rafael,no lo haré!”

  Brendan fell backwards onto the dusty pathway. His mouth dropped open.

  “What did you say?” he asked.

  Jonathan did not answer but continued to plead in Spanish.

  Brendan turned to the menwho had moved back from the madman. “Please! Ask him who he thinks I am!”

  One of the men moved forward hesitantly and spoke to Jonathan who answered him through sobs.

  “He says you are Rafael,” the man replied.

  “Rafael who?” Brendan screamed. His blood turned cold as he waited for the man to translate Jonathan’s reply.

  “He says you are keeping him a box,” the man replied.

  “And my last name?” Brendan asked although he had heard it. He had heard his friend say it.

  “Martinez . . . Rafael Martinez.”

  Chapter 27

  Pilar Diaz sat brooding in Alice’s makeshift office on the second floor of the shelter as Brendan waited patiently for her response to Jonathan’s extraordinary revelation on Nelson Avenue. She tapped her fingers against her lips and took a deep breath.

  “Martinez is a very common name. It could have been someone else,” she reasoned.


  Brendan shook his head. “I am telling you, Pilar. He said Rafael Martinez. Uncle Frank said I look just like my father. That’s why he was so frightened when he met me first. He thought I was him!”

  Pilar shook her head. “It’s a coincidence. Nothing more.”

  Brendan stood and stared hard at her. “Why can’t you believe it?” he asked.

  “Because it is simply a coincidence, Brendan. Accept it! Brendan, please believe me. There is no secret to Jonathan, no mystery to what happened to him. His family abused him and he ran away. He blocked it out because it was too painful to remember. He was a small child, remember? A vulnerable child who made up a fantasy world to protect himself from the awful situation he lived in. Period. He needs to accept that, Brendan. He needs to know that there is no one looking for him.”

  Brendan shook his head and stared wide-eyed at her. “What happened to you, Pilar? Eileen said that when you came to work here you were passionate about making things better . . . but now . . . you seem to just want to keep the status quo. But you are wrong – things can change.”

  Pilar raised her eyes slowly to meet his and sighed.“Brendan, Jonathan is ill. Whatevertrue memories he has have been mixed up for so long with what he has invented that it is too late to discern what is real from what is imagined.”

  “No!” Brendan shouted. “I don’t believe that. I think it could be true, Pilar. I think it is possible that he has a sister named Cassie. If she was madeup, why wasn’t she part of his TV family? I think she is real, Pilar, and somehow they got separated. I think that something happened and now I think my father could hold the key to finding Jonathan’s family.”

  Pilar slumped back in her chair, her heavy eyes half-closing as she ran her eye over Alice’s outstanding paperwork. Brendan studied the exhausted woman and knew there was no point in trying to convince her.

  “Why don’t you lie down until the clients return for the night?” he said.

  “Zeb is upstairs and he needs help,” she replied wearily.