Nameless

by Sam Starbuck

  But the dogs wouldn't go near him.

  And, true, Lucas was in town more, but at the same time he was not. He was quieter, even less given to human interaction than before. He sat in the back of the cafe when he ate there, never met his students at the school anymore, and spent even more time hiding behind the shelves when other people were in my shop.

  We did not discuss what he'd told me, and in some ways I began to wonder if it hadn't been some strange hallucination – until I looked at Nameless and saw the human intelligence in his eyes.

  It was actually a warm day in April when Nameless came trotting into the shop on the heels of a customer, accepting the attention and admiration of my younger patrons with gracious dignity. I didn't think much about it, other than to note that the fur he'd shed was becoming conspicuous and I would have to start sweeping it up soon. As usual, the boy and his schoolmates were there, trading insults and waiting for Lucas to arrive. I happened to know that they had school projects due which required book-research and so there was no end of browsing, comparing, and secretive copying-of-text when they thought I wasn't looking. The boy bought two books, then dawdled with the girls Lucas was also tutoring while the rest disappeared.

  "Isn't Lucas here?" he asked finally, after having exhausted his interest in literature. I glanced at Nameless, lying on the hearth.

  "Were you supposed to meet him today?" I asked.

  "Yes – it's a tutoring day. Have you seen him?"

  "No," I said, as Nameless lifted his head and stared right at me, his ears flat against his skull. I stared back, confused. He heaved a sigh and rested his head on his paws again, looking disconsolate.

  "He's not usually late," the boy continued. "Can we wait here?"

  "Oh – wait a minute," I said, when it became obvious that Nameless would be of no help. "He – that's right. He called, I'd forgotten."

  It sounded lame, even to me, but I'm not a bad liar and children trust people who aren't their parents. Well. They trust me, anyway.

  "He said he wouldn't make it in today – feeling a little under the weather, I guess," I said. "I'm really sorry, I completely forgot."

  "That's all right," the boy said easily. "Day off, right?"

  "You might as well go home – but I'll know if you tell your parents you finished your homework at tutoring!" I called after them, as they threw their bags over their shoulders and ran down the steps. They passed Michael on his way up the path.

  "Afternoon," he said, closing the door behind him. I gave Nameless a look that told him he had better stay right where he was, then turned to Michael.

  "Good afternoon, Michael. Thought you'd be at the bank today," I said.

  "Sandra's taking my shift. I had to go out to the train station down south of ours," he said, a hint of pride in his voice. He laid down two slick train tickets on my counter – Low Ferry to Chicago on the express, the first weekend in June.

  "Wow," I said. "Really going, huh?"

  "Yep." He bounced on the balls of his feet. "Had to tell someone. And you've – you haven't told anyone at all about us. So I thought you'd like to know."

  "I do like to know, thanks," I smiled at him. I really hadn't told anyone, not even Lucas, and I hadn't actually talked about Michael or Nolan or Sandra at all. Charles thought I was turning over a new leaf, giving up gossip for Lent or something. He ought to know better, but we all see what we want to see. "You set for money?" I asked.

  "I got a little put by. Nolan's got some from when his granddad passed," he said. Nameless pricked his ears forward.

  I winced inwardly, but I couldn't let it show. "Place to stay?"

  "Buddy of ours is at school out there, said he'd put us up till we found our feet. Lots of banks in Chicago. Lots of work."

  "What about Sandra? Leaving her a little high and dry at the bank here, aren't you?"

  He shrugged. "Nolan's sister's about ready to take over for him. They'll be fine."

  "You going to tell your parents?"

  That stopped him bouncing, at least. He frowned.

  "Yeah. Before we go. After Nolan takes his inheritance out," he added.

  "Are you sure you want to leave Low Ferry? I know what small towns are like, I do, but Chicago's pretty far. Pretty big."

  Michael shrugged. "We'll get by."

  "Just – don't be too much of a stranger, huh? Being away...changes things," I said. "You lose things when you leave."

  "Good."

  "You say that now," I said, but I smiled too. "Listen, if you do need money, let me know. And..." I took out a pen and uncapped it, scribbling the address of Eighth Rare Books on the ticket envelope. "The owner's a friend of mine. She'll give you a hand if you ask."

  "That's decent of you," he said, studying it before tucking the tickets away. "See you round, Christopher," he added, and walked out. I held up a finger and pointed it at Nameless as soon as he'd gone.

  "Don't even think about saying anything," I said. He huffed indignantly. "You keep that well to yourself, and don't talk to me about it. You and I have other things to discuss."

  Nameless eased his head down onto his legs, cocking it slightly. I walked around the counter to where he lay and sat down on the floor next to him.

  "You should tell the boy yourself, if you don't feel like tutoring," I said. He whined and rested his head on my knee. "That wasn't very polite, and definitely irresponsible."

  He inched forward and heaved another sigh. I scratched the ruff of fur just above his shoulders.

  "Some days it's easier to be a dog," I continued. "But don't forget you're not. You were human first, and you'll always be human. You can try as hard as you like to lose it, but all you'll do is bury it, and that isn't the kind of thing you can bury forever."

  I wish I had not said those words. I was trying to help him, because he seemed lost to me, stuck between a human craving love and an animal who was loved for a lie. I was trying to cajole him out of his silence. I was doing what I thought was right for my friend, who was confused and afraid.

  I wish I had stayed silent and stroked his fur and let him be, or at least pretended that his seeming was the same as his being, that the change meant something beneath the surface. Perhaps it wouldn't have made any difference in the end, but I wish I had kept my damn mouth shut.

  I got up and went back to the counter, where I had been pricing books before I was interrupted. After a moment, there was the sound of a throat being cleared.

  "I couldn't face them today," he said, and it was Lucas sitting by the fire, legs pulled up to his chest, chin on his knees, bare toes curled against the floor. The mask lay next to him, face-down. "It takes so much effort sometimes, and I've never run away before. I think I'm allowed, just once."

  "Of course you are," I agreed. "But you could have left a note for them."

  "Sorry. I didn't want to make you lie for me."

  I shrugged. "I chose to lie. I could have just said I hadn't seen you, and it would have been truth of a sort."

  He rubbed his eyes. "It's so easy to be Nameless, and so difficult to be Lucas sometimes. People love dogs."

  "No-one hates you, Lucas."

  "My words are all wrong."

  "I didn't mean – "

  "No, I didn't either," he said quickly, apologetically. "I don't end up finding very good words for things. The words are more difficult. People are so complicated."

  "And dogs are so simple?"

  "No, but – dogs are simple to people – you see?" he said, frustrated. "But I am sorry, and I'll make it up to them."

  I glanced at the door, then reached out and turned the sign to Closed. "Come upstairs. I'll make you a drink."

  He followed me into my kitchen, sitting quietly while I put a kettle on the stove.

  "Lucas...can I ask you something?" I said, setting out mugs and tea bags. "We don't have to talk about it anymore, but I'd like to know."

  He spread his hands, indicating I should continue.

  "How'd you manage it? Did yo
u get the idea from the Straw Bear?"

  He shook his head. "I knew before I came here. The book I wanted from Chicago, I used to make masks from the pictures. I just liked the designs. Strange things used to happen to those," he added, with an odd nostalgic look. "I think because I believed in it. Or didn't disbelieve, anyway. Most people, when they read a book, they decide to believe it or...um, not. I never have. Whether it was true didn't matter to me, as long as it got me away for a little while."

  "Away? From what?"

  "Everything. You're a reader, you can't possibly misunderstand that."

  "No," I said. "I guess I can't."

  "When you're in the city it's hard to think clearly about things. I knew I wanted somewhere small, somewhere I could be alone to think," he said. "So I came here, because I could be alone, because traditions aren't quite dead here....men still turn into animals."

  "The Straw Bear."

  He nodded. We were quiet until the kettle whistled and I poured the water into the mugs. I offered him a spoon with his and he stirred, watching as the tea tinted it slowly.

  "I thought...." he closed his eyes. "I began to look at animals, how effortless it is for them to accept affection, how much they offer in return. Nobody suspects a dog of ulterior motives."

  "Everyone loves Nameless," I said.

  "Wouldn't you strive for that, if you didn't have it?" he asked, voice strained.

  "Do you suppose that I do have it?"

  "It's easy for you; you talk to people, shake hands, flirt with them, hug them, you know everything about them – it's so simple for you. It's so simple for them," he said, stretching out his hand to point out the window towards the street below. "The boy – you should see him and the others. I don't understand how they can be so close, how they always think of – of things to talk about, games to play – how they never bore each other. I don't know how people do that, and sometimes it's just...difficult to watch."

  "But he idolizes you. He wants to be like you."

  "I want to be like him," Lucas replied. "Or like you."

  "It's not easy for me either," I said. "Not always, anyway. I don't think it is for anyone, at times. You'll figure it out, Lucas, you're a smart man."

  "Thanks," he said. He pushed back from the table, standing up. "I think...I'm going to go home for a while. Would you uh...turn around?"

  "Okay," I answered, and turned away. There was a soft noise, and then the scratch of claws on wood. I led Nameless down the stairs, gave him an affectionate nudge with my knee, and opened the door so he could get out.

  From the doorway I watched him lope through the last of the winter's snow, dodging around late-afternoon shoppers and the occasional schoolchild.

  ***

  Two days later, I heard a car pull up outside my shop and looked out the window to see a familiar battered pickup with a camper hitched to it. I hadn't expected the Friendly, but it made sense; a final thaw was sweeping south and they were following it for as long as it lasted. Gwen practically leaped out of the truck and was up on the porch by the time I had the door open. She threw herself into my arms, laughing.

  "Hello!" I called to Tommy, who saluted from the street and came up the path with a little more dignity. "Hello," I added to Gwen, who kissed my cheek and let me go. "You're awfully close to civilization, miss Friendly."

  "Came in for a hot meal," Tommy explained, leaning on the porch rail. "Gwen insisted."

  "It's good food," she retorted. "And we're not here long."

  "Oh?" I asked.

  "Just for tonight. I wanted to make sure I saw you."

  "Why the rush?"

  "Construction work down south," Tommy answered. "Good money while it's on."

  "Can't argue with that," I said, as Gwen wrapped an arm around my waist and leaned against me. "How's the family?"

  "Christopher sends his greetings. Stuck in bed right now, sciatica's actin' up. Couple of the boys got married, lost one of 'em to a landowner. Otherwise can't complain."

  "How's Low Ferry?" Gwen asked.

  "Better for having you in it," I replied.

  "And Lucas? We're going up to see him tonight, after dinner."

  I smiled. "That'll do him some good. He hasn't been himself lately."

  Gwen gave me a searching look. "Yeah. Didn't think he would be."

  "Why's that?"

  "We know things. I'd like to tell him thank you, though."

  "Thank you? What for?"

  She and Tommy exchanged a glance, hesitant, almost conspiratorial.

  "You had good weather going north, huh?" I asked, and Tommy looked relieved.

  "Told you then, did he?" he said. I realized, with a pang of jealousy and guilt, that they'd known. He'd told them, or they'd figured it out. And they'd believed him. No shouting, no dismissal. The Friendly had known what craziness Lucas was up to and they'd believed him, long before I ever had.

  "He did a little more than tell me," I answered. "Did you know he succeeded?"

  "No!" Gwen looked pleased. "But I'm glad he did."

  Tommy didn't look quite so joyful. "How's he find it?"

  "You'd have to ask him that."

  "Didja know he can make it rain?" Gwen said. "Come on, Saint! Fetch me some books and I'll pay you. We made a little pile up north with those masks."

  After they left, I turned over this new information in my mind all afternoon, trying to decide what I thought of it. In the end, it seemed like a small thing, compared to the rest. I hoped that night Nameless would get some choice scraps from the Friendly cooking fires.

  I didn't see Lucas the next day, but I figured he was probably visiting with the Friendly before they left – I planned to ask him how Christopher was, next time he was in town.

  As it turned out, I saw him before he came to town.

  Around four o'clock that day, the boy came running into my shop. He was out of breath, and he looked like hell was chasing him.

  "He isn't here, is he?" he demanded.

  "Who, Lucas? No," I said. "What's the matter?"

  "He's missed tutoring again and he's not answering his phone, and I think you'd better go see what's wrong."

  "I'm sure it's just temporary," I replied. "Maybe his phone died. Might be some mud on the road. The Friendly are back, did you – "

  "You should go. Now."

  I looked up at him sharply. No child in the village had ever spoken to me that way, but his stare was direct and he looked so much older than he was that I automatically moved to obey. I was putting on my coat before I realized what I was doing.

  "I'll come with you," he offered, when I paused again. "But you have to go see what's wrong with him."

  I looked outside. It had been sunny all day, even if it hadn't been very warm. Now clouds were gathering, almost too quickly to be believed, and rain was beginning to streak the window.