Only A Memory Away

by Madeline St. Claire

  “Thanks for asking,” he said in a normal voice. “Things are fine at the station. I’m sorry, I forgot your name.”

  “It’s Allison. That’s okay, a person can’t remember everything.”

  Karen wanted to smile. In Maxwell’s case, Allison didn’t realize what an understatement that was.

  “Hey, Allie, get a move on.” A middle-aged waitress in a tank top passed by, her arms filled with plates. “With Mar on vacation, you’ve got no time for lollygagging.”

  “Sorry,” the girl murmured.

  Then Karen noticed the cook. The burly, moonfaced man had come out from the kitchen to draw himself a soft drink and was staring at Allison and Judd. Karen understood the annoyance of the overworked waitress, but the cook was positively glaring.

  KAREN COULD FEEL the excitement crackling out of Judd Maxwell, and she shared it. The fact he worked in Silver Creek meant they could get him back home today. Being in familiar surroundings was sure to bring his memory back!

  He still didn’t seem anxious to talk, but he’d made no argument this time about accepting a lift from her to the gas station where he worked. If they had to stop at one more red light as they crossed town, she wouldn’t put it past him to jump out and run.

  “Do you recognize anything?” she asked.

  He gave a negative grunt in response, and Karen felt a fresh wave of compassion for him. How strange and frightening it would be to look around Silver Creek and not recognize anything. She concentrated on the storefronts as they passed, trying to see them through unfamiliar eyes. The shoe store with its preseason display of snow boots. The drugstore, whose orange-and-black sign had overhung the sidewalk ever since she was a baby. Garibaldi’s Grocery with the weekly specials written on butcher paper, taped to the window. She sometimes tired of spending her life in the same small town that revolved around mining and logging and that derived its excitement from the fishing, hunting and skiing, depending on the season. But now she was suddenly very glad for the predictability of Silver Creek. It was comforting knowing these streets like her own name, especially since her mother had passed away.

  “Judd,” she said, “what did you mean, before dinner, when you said you had business here? Were you just trying to get rid of me?”

  “No. The highway patrol impounded my car. It’s in their yard here.”

  “Oh.” Ironic. She’d just been assuring herself how well she knew Silver Creek, yet she’d never realized they kept towed cars at the HP station. She thought a moment about that other thing that had puzzled her. “I was told that, when they picked you up, you’d been robbed. How did you get your hair cut this afternoon if you left the hospital without any money?”

  “On my way out, one of the nurses insisted on giving me a twenty.”

  “Hmm.” Was any female immune to the man’s hotheaded charm? It seemed not. She wondered why he’d chosen to spend his money at the barber’s; together with the sunglasses he wore, it seemed almost like a disguise. “If you don’t mind my asking, why did you get your hair cut?”

  He shrugged. “It was driving me crazy that long. How far is it to the station?”

  She had to smile at the eagerness in his voice. “Just a few more blocks.”

  It was encouraging to see him excited in a positive way rather than tense. He’d certainly been uptight before the waitress recognized him. Karen had noticed the way he unobtrusively scanned the diner when they first entered. He was doubtless simply trying to remember the place, but she’d gotten the weird feeling for a moment he was sweeping the room for foes.

  “That must be it,” Judd said, pointing to the Summers’ Chevron sign a block ahead.

  “Yes. Does it look familiar?” When he didn’t respond, she was disappointed. “Want me to wait for you?”

  He seemed to withdraw into himself once more. “Thanks, but you’ve already done more than enough for me.”

  “I was glad to do it.”

  Karen pulled into the station, and Judd jumped out. Two repair bays stood open, but the only attendant had his back to them as he saw a customer off at the pumps.

  Karen parked the Festiva next to a phone booth and headed for the ladies’ room inside the office. She watched from the corner of her eye as Judd tapped the attendant on the shoulder of his blue coveralls. He was a short man, not reaching Judd’s chin.

  “Excuse me, are you Mr. Summers?”

  “Yeah, I’m Howie Summers.” The fortyish man turned, screwed up his ill-shaven face and spit tobacco juice between his feet and Judd’s. “Very funny, Maxwell. So, you’re back, huh? I knew you’d regret giving me the brush-off, but I brought my nephew in. He needs a job, and he’s no ingrate like you, so you can get lost.”

  Karen stood frozen, watching. Judd’s jaw clenched. He was obviously lost for a response to the sudden tirade, but he didn’t back off. “I need to ask you a few questions.”

  “Well, if it’s about your pay, you ain’t got no more comin’.” The bantam punctuated his words with a jabbing finger. “You might as well get back in the car with your floozy and take off.”

  Judd swiveled, saw Karen, then closed the gap between himself and Summers. He whipped off his glasses. “I don’t know what your beef is with me, Summers, but you’d better apologize to the young lady, or I’ll shove your teeth down your throat.”

  The other man stepped back. Karen thought his sandy hair might stand on end. His head jerked toward her, but he wouldn’t meet her eye. “I apologize, miss, no offense meant Your friend and I ain’t on the best of terms and I, ah, wasn’t thinking what I was sayin’.”

  A sports car and a motor home pulled into the station, both heading for the full-serve pumps. “We need to talk,” Judd said, “but I’ll come back later, when you’re not busy. For now, just tell me where I live.”

  “Tell you where you live?”

  “Yes. The street address.”

  Summers licked his lips. “Ah, 200 Meadow, I think. Yeah, 200.”

  Judd took Karen’s elbow. “You know where Meadow is?” he asked Karen in a quiet voice.

  “Sure.”

  When they were back in the car, Karen hesitated to mention the scene, but it felt equally awkward pretending it hadn’t happened. “What was that all about?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll find out later, when he’s cooled down.”

  “It sounds like you two had a knock-down-dragout. Do you think it had anything to do with you losing your memory?”

  “I don’t know,” he repeated, “but somehow I can’t imagine feeling too cut up over an argument with a jerk like Summers.”

  Karen giggled, but she felt bad for Judd just the same. What rotten luck! Though Summers had probably pushed him to the limit of his endurance, this was no time for Judd to be worrying about finding a new job. She hoped he had some savings to fall back on and made a mental note to start looking for employment for him tomorrow.

  The apartment building was only three blocks away. She vaguely remembered that at one time it had been a motel, but the neon sign on the front lawn was gone.

  Karen pulled in the driveway of the horseshoeshaped building while Judd twisted in his seat to extricate a key ring. “It must be number 8,” he said, reading the number off one of the keys. Karen parked in the space across from the unit.

  It was her job to take a look at his apartment, assess if it was a safe place for a man in his condition to recuperate. Deciding it might be wiser not to ask his permission, she simply followed him as he exited the car. To her relief, he seemed too preoccupied to care.

  Judd’s neighbors had their door open, and Karen glanced briefly their way, then waited while Judd worked the key. Criminy, it was hot out here. The setting sun was directly behind them. She was sure if she perspired much more, her new silk blouse would be ruined.

  Judd pushed the apartment door open. From inside came a tremendous scream.

  Chapter Three

  Karen skittered backward over the edge of the sidewalk and lost her balance for a s
ickening moment before Judd grabbed her arm. He steadied her, then quickly drew off his dark glasses and stepped into the apartment.

  Karen waited outside a few moments. Scared, but worried for Judd’s safety, she cautiously moved to the threshold and peered inside. The apartment was very dark, and the air was more fetid than simply stale, like the smell of something decomposing. She fought the urge to gag as she clamped a hand over her nose and mouth.

  When her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she located Judd near the center of the room. He was bent at the waist, looking into a large, ornate cage against the wall. A fresh cry issued from behind the bars.

  “It’s just a bird?” she asked with chagrin. She joined him. “It’s a…cockatiel, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, and very hungry from the sound of it.”

  The gray-and-white bird stretched up toward them on tiptoe, its yellow crest erect as it gave a series of loud whistles and caws.

  Judd straightened. “Where’s his food?”

  Karen pulled a coffee can off the entertainment center next to the cage. “Is this it?” She peeled the top off; rather than seed, it was filled with sandycolored granules.

  “Here.” He impatiently took the can from her and withdrew a coffee measuring spoon.

  “I’ve never heard of feeding a bird anything like that.”

  His arm was in the cage, removing the plastic food cup. “Well, we’ve got to give the little troublemaker something to shut him up.”

  “Troublemaker!” the cockatiel crowed.

  Karen’s mouth fell open.

  The parrot danced on its perch as Judd replaced the food cup. “Troublemaker. Troublemaker. Howdydo?”

  Karen laughed, allowing her astonishment to spill out. Her delight seemed infectious, because a crooked smile, the first she’d seen, appeared on Judd’s face.

  “I’d say you two have met before,” she said.

  “Yeah, the bird’s a good judge of character,” he said, wiping his hands on his jeans. Though the words were self-mocking, she could tell he was amused.

  “Oh, my.” She wiped a tear from her eye as she watched the parrot tuck into its food. “I didn’t know cockatiels could talk. He’s so cute. What’s his name?”

  The mask dropped back over his face. “I’ve no idea.” He brushed past her, into the kitchen alcove. She bit her lip, knowing it would do no good to apologize for her thoughtless question.

  Through the pass-through, she watched him open several cupboards before finding a stack of foam cups. “Let’s get some light in here,” she said.

  Judd exited the kitchen as she was opening the front drape. “There’s only beer and tap water and no ice, but help yourself,” he said. “I can’t believe how hot it is in here!” He crouched before the air conditioner and began examining the controls.

  As Karen surveyed the studio apartment, she realized the blond-wood and vinyl upholstered furnishings were similar to the ones she’d glimpsed next door, apparently Judd had rented the place furnished. Pushed out of the way between the front door and an entertainment center was a black weightlifter’s bench with several pairs of hefty dumbbells lined up beneath it. A single bed sat flush against the back wall, a cream-colored comforter hastily pulled up to the headboard. She casually noted he must be unattached, after all. She told herself this was unfortunate, that Judd might have no one to help him through his recovery but herself, but she couldn’t quite feel genuinely sorry. She hiked her purse higher on her shoulder and decided to slip into the bathroom while Judd was busy.

  Bracing herself for the moldy odors of the typical bachelor bathroom, she was pleasantly surprised to find Judd’s clean and smelling of soap and good aftershave.

  The only sign of disarray was a pair of burgundy leather slippers kicked into the corner. A navy robe, pegged to the back of the door, brushed her hand as she moved into the room. The rich fabric felt like silk, piped in contrasting satin to match the color of the slippers.

  The bathroom fixtures looked about twenty years old, the yellowed linoleum due for replacement, but the handsome navy plaid towels carefully hung on the rack were huge and plushy. A tag peeped out: Polo, by Ralph Lauren.

  His toothbrush in the porcelain holder was another surprise. Staring at it while she washed her hands, Karen realized that, like expensive hairbrushes, it was fashioned of wood and natural animal bristles. Karen shook her head; people were endlessly surprising and contradictory. Judd’s personal possessions seemed more appropriate for a gentleman with a valet than for a small-town gas jockey.

  When she came out, the air conditioner was softly humming and Judd was leafing through his clothes closet.

  “You’ve got a nice place here,” she said.

  Judd glanced over his shoulder, blank eyes scanned the room, and he grunted. With a stab of compassion, she understood how he must feel, standing in the midst of a space that should have been very personal to him, yet was totally unfamiliar. She could understand why Judd looked so troubled, so intent, as he examined his belongings.

  Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Karen shifted her gaze to the small stack of magazines on the coffee table, picked one up and glanced through it. It was full of technical articles on stereo equipment and reviews of new recordings. A pair of highly polished mahogany speakers stood on ebony stands at either end of the entertainment center, and a complicated looking compact disc player and tuner sat on one of the open shelves. There was a shoe box of CDs beside it. He had eclectic taste: opera, jazz, groups with strange names she’d never heard of. And there were a few of her own favorites: Barbra Streisand, Sting, Annie Lennox.

  Judd approached but didn’t reprimand her for her snooping, simply pulled down the door of the entertainment center’s built-in desk.

  “Are you looking for anything specific?” she asked.

  “An address book.”

  “Oh. Want me to help you?”

  When he didn’t answer, she decided to take it for a yes, and started with the small number of books in front of her on the shelf. “Car manuals, hardcover best-sellers. No address book. Handsome bookends, though.”

  She passed into the tiny kitchen with its ancient refrigerator and gas stove. There was no phone, but checking the cabinets for the address book would be a good excuse to make sure he had enough groceries.

  The first cupboard contained a package of paper plates and cups—no real dishes in sight. In the silverware drawer, she found plastic utensils. It was a perfect opportunity to try cheering him up with a little humor.

  “I can tell you one thing,” she called.

  For a second, she thought he wasn’t going to respond, then he said, “What’s that?”

  “You’ve got a phobia for sudsy water.”

  “What?” It didn’t take him a moment. “Oh, the paper plates. Well, no one likes dishpan hands.”

  Karen smiled, pleased he’d responded in kind.

  A well-thumbed Joy of Cooking sat next to containers of pepper and salt, a few cereal boxes, canned goods and dried pasta. The rest of the overhead cupboards were empty. “You’re no Julia Child,” she observed.

  “Yeah? Well, I’m probably a demon with a can opener.”

  Inspecting the cupboard next to the stove, she almost whistled. “Hey, I take that back, you may be a gourmet after all.” An expensive set of French stainless steel skillets and saucepans gleamed out at her. In the cupboard beside it was a Krups espresso maker.

  Checking the refrigerator last, she found only a frozen package of New York steaks, three bottles of imported beer and half a loaf of sliced french bread. Karen bit her lip. It might take some time to find him a new job, and he’d obviously need groceries before then.

  “I don’t think you do much entertaining,” she called, “or else it’s B.Y.O.E.—Bring Your Own Everything.”

  “Maybe that’s why no address book, I don’t have any friends.”

  That brought her to the doorway; he was back at the desk, staring morosely at its wood grain surface.

&nb
sp; “Perhaps you didn’t need a book because you have a great memory for numbers. I know that sounds facetious, but what I mean is, it could very well be true. And you’re sure to get your memory back—you just have to give it time.”

  “It won’t be a moment too soon for me!” Judd threw down a stack of junk mail. “This doesn’t seem to be getting me anywhere. I’ve got thirty years of a life behind me, why can’t I remember any of it!”

  She moved to stand next to him. “I know. It can’t be easy.” She thought he might tell her she couldn’t possibly know how difficult it was and to leave him alone, but he didn’t, just leaned forward on his knuckles, his head turned so she could no longer see the black frustration in his face.

  After a few quiet moments, she said, “You didn’t find anything helpful in the desk?”

  “No. No records, no checkbook, no paid bills. Either I just moved here or I paid my bills in cash or my checkbook was stolen from the car when the thieves took my wallet” He tossed the mail back into the desk. “I was hoping a phone bill might show frequently called numbers.”

  “A lot of people don’t keep their bill stubs. Once you get some ID, the phone company may be able to give you back copies.”

  Judd grunted agreement. “I’ll try to locate my landlord tonight and ask him if I gave any references when I rented this place.”

  His face preoccupied, Judd moved to the birdcage. Noting his approach, the cockatiel abandoned its food and crawled onto the perch nearest the wrought-iron door.

  “I think he wants to come out,” Karen said.

  Judd unlatched the door and extended his index finger; the bird climbed on. Karen watched as Judd began massaging his pet’s neck between thumb and forefinger. The vigor with which he rubbed looked hard enough to wring the bird’s slender neck, alarming Karen, but the cockatiel’s eyelids slowly closed in an expression of what seemed sheer contentment.

  Judd realized what he was doing and snorted softly. “Strange, I don’t remember this little guy at all, yet I seem to know how to handle him.”