Bigfoot, Tobin & Me

by Melissa Savage

  ‘It’s him, Mom. It’s really him. I guess he must’ve got lost or something.’

  It’s quiet again while Debbie watches the man hiding in the corner, his eyes still darting and his body still curled in a tight ball.

  ‘Scotty?’ she says really slowly, like she hardly believes her eyes.

  He is still a caught animal ready to be slaughtered. Slaughtered up into jerky bits to be bagged and shelved in the FINE CUISINE section of Bigfoot Souvenirs and More.

  ‘Scotty?’ Debbie says, louder this time and stepping towards him. ‘Is it really you?’

  Scotty’s body ball is so tight now, it looks like he’s trying to make himself invisible so we’ll all forget he’s still sitting in the corner of the nest.

  In the beams of our torches, we watch his matted red head slowly bob up and then down.

  And that’s when I see something I will always remember. For my whole life I will remember it.

  Debbie rushes towards him in her dirty nurse’s dress and muddy shoes, falling down to her knees and wrapping her arms around him with so much love it makes my eyes blur. They blur up even more when I see her thin shoulders shake against him as she cries loud and hard.

  I watch her rock him back and forth, the way you might rock a tiny newborn baby snuggled up in a tight swaddle.

  ‘Scotty.’ She sobs and rocks and rocks and sobs. ‘My Scotty,’ she says over and over, kissing his dark muddy cheeks. ‘My Scotty . . . I love you so much . . . I just love you so much . . . I thought we’d never see you again.’

  I look over at Tobin and see a whole load of tears all stuck up between his cheeks and the bottom of his glasses. Then I look up at Charlie and see tears rolling down and getting caught in his beard.

  I wipe my own tears away with my forearm.

  We all cry, seeing the love Debbie has for this man she has waited for and prayed for and hoped for. This man she loves with deep-down love.

  It reminds me of the time I wrapped my own arms around Mama in the hospital on the very worst day of my entire life. I bet my shoulders shook when her chest stopped moving up and then down. I bet I shook just like Debbie.

  Except these tears are different. Hers. Mine. Tobin’s. And Charlie’s. While we watch her deep-down love.

  These tears are happy tears.

  With Mama I was trying to hold on to something I had to let go, and Debbie is holding on to something she gets to keep.

  No, these are happy tears for sure.

  But watching Debbie, Charlie and Tobin right this second . . . it really makes me miss Mama. I miss her like something inside me hurts so badly there isn’t anything on this earth that could hurt me more. Not a bullet or knife or gangrene or even an insect-related scourge. Right now, I’d give anything to be with Mama like that. One more chance to be able to wrap my arms around her and hold her tight and rock her small, frail body just like Debbie gets to with Scotty.

  If somebody gave me that chance again, I’d never let her go. Not ever. And I’d hold on to her just like Debbie is holding on to Scotty. With deep-down love.

  And right this minute, when I feel like I’m getting sucked back into sadness quicksand, I look up at Charlie again and then slip my hand into his. The big hand with the special ring on it.

  His fingers fold around mine, just like Mama’s used to.

  And he squeezes my hand tight.

  And I squeeze his hand back.

  Just in case he has his own quicksand.

  47. Thankful

  It’s the middle of the night when we make it home from the hospital in Blue Lake.

  Tobin and I waited a long, long time on the bench welded to the wall, until Debbie came to get us for a short visit in Scotty’s hospital room.

  But not before we scrubbed all the germs from our hands with disinfectant hospital soap and crossed our hearts, promising to only stay for five minutes.

  Scotty already looked better. He was all cleaned up, and someone had cut his hair and shaved off his beard to make him look more like the man in the picture next to Debbie’s bed and Tobin’s too. He had even eaten half a hospital cheeseburger and some of his fries.

  I have so many questions, but figure it’s best not to ask them until he’s well again. Plus Tobin would probably just roll his eyes right out of his head by the time I was done with all my asking.

  I don’t remember the ride home, because I fell asleep on the front seat of Jake. I wake up when Charlie carries me inside and lies me on top of my bed.

  ‘Charlie,’ I say, rubbing my eyes.

  ‘It’s late, Lem.’ He pulls off one of my tennis shoes and then the other one. ‘We can talk more in the morning.’

  ‘Why was Tobin’s dad living in the woods out behind Mrs Dickerson’s garden?’

  Charlie breathes out long and hard and sits down next to me on the bed.

  ‘He has something called CSR, Lem,’ he says. ‘Combat stress reaction. Sometimes it’s called battle fatigue or shell shock. It’s what some soldiers experience after they must see and do terrible things during a war. Right now he needs rest and he needs some time to make sense of the things he has experienced. He needs help with his memories.’

  I guess even Scotty has his very own quicksand.

  ‘But why didn’t he just go home to get all that?’ I ask, thinking about the special ring on Debbie’s finger. ‘Debbie would have helped him. Didn’t he know that she has deep-down love for him? Debbie would have done anything he needed. I know it.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re right about that,’ Charlie says. ‘CSR is hard to understand because you can’t see it like you can see a broken arm or . . . uh—’

  ‘Gangrene?’

  ‘Yes.’ He smiles. ‘Like you can see gangrene. Some people don’t even want to believe CSR is real. But it’s very real, and our men need support after all they’ve been through. All I can say is that Scotty will be OK after he gets treatment at the hospital. He might be there for a time, but the doctors know what to do to help him.’

  ‘And he’ll be able to go back home one day to live with Tobin and Debbie?’

  ‘Yes, Lem. They can finally be a family again.’

  ‘That’s good, then,’ I say.

  ‘Yep.’ He sighs and stands up. ‘It’s wonderful. Get some sleep now.’

  ‘Charlie?’

  ‘Lem, it’s late. Crawl in now, and we’ll talk more tomorrow,’ he says, lifting the duvet up for me to burrow under.

  ‘Just one more thing,’ I tell him, pulling it over my clothes.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘How did Scotty get all the way from Vietnam back to the woods in Willow Creek?’

  He begins tucking the duvet tight all around me.

  ‘Remember when I told you that Scotty had been MIA? Missing in action? And then they rescued him last year?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I remember. You said he made it to the base in Oakland and then disappeared.’

  ‘Yes, well, Scotty told us an amazing story of survival,’ he tells me. ‘He had been on a top secret mission when he was captured. His entire squad was killed, but he survived. The army thought they had all been killed, and unfortunately, Scotty ended up spending the next three years in a prison in the jungle where he was horribly tortured until another top secret squad finally found him and rescued him last year. That’s when they sent soldiers to the house to let Debbie know he was alive. Remember when I told you that Debbie and Tobin went to pick him up at the airport and found out he never made it on the plane?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Something happened to him on his way to catch the flight.’

  ‘What?’ I ask.

  ‘With combat stress reaction, sometimes a person’s memories are so strong that it makes them uncertain if a memory is something that happened in the past or if it’s happening in the present.’

  ‘Kind of like a dream?’ I ask, thinking of all the dreams I have of Mama and me at Sunshine’s on the Bay. It feels so real when it’s happening that it’s
like she’s still right here with me.

  ‘Exactly,’ he says. ‘It was the loud noises at the airport that confused his brain. Loud noises that sounded like the explosions or gunfire he experienced in the jungle. Those noises confused him and it’s like he started to dream that he was back in the jungle again . . . back in danger. So he did what he learnt to do to stay safe. He escaped to the cover of the woods.’

  ‘That’s why he didn’t get on the plane? Because his memories were confused?’ I ask.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘But he looked OK to me when we saw him in the hospital.’

  ‘It’s something that comes on a bit unexpectedly. It could still happen if he experiences something that reminds him of the jungle. Does that make sense?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ I say. ‘But I still don’t know why he wouldn’t just let Debbie know all that. Did he forget about her deep-down love?’

  ‘He told the doctors that once he made it back to Willow Creek on his own, he couldn’t face Debbie and Tobin. He said he tried many times to make it up those front porch steps, but he couldn’t do it. He said that he just couldn’t share with them what he had been through because it was too horrible. He wanted to protect them from all that he had seen and experienced out in the jungle so they wouldn’t have to experience it too. So . . . he watched over them from the woods, hoping one day he would be able to be with them again.’

  I think hard about everything Charlie has told me.

  ‘You’re right,’ I tell him. ‘That is hard to understand.’

  ‘Yes,’ he agrees.

  ‘When will he get to go home for good?’

  ‘That depends on his healing.’

  ‘I hope he’s healed up soon.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘Charlie?’

  ‘Lem, it’s so late.’

  ‘One more question. I really promise this time.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Scotty didn’t say anything about seeing the Bigfoot while he was living out behind Mrs Dickerson’s, did he?’

  Charlie smiles. ‘Nope, he sure didn’t.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ I say.

  ‘Goodnight, Lem.’

  ‘Charlie?’

  He chuckles. ‘I’m not going to sleep any time soon, am I?’

  ‘Just one more thing, then I really and truly promise to go to sleep. Cross my heart this time.’

  ‘OK, what is it?’

  ‘I’m happy for Tobin, and Debbie too . . . I am. But it also, well, it doesn’t really seem fair.’

  ‘Fair?’ he asks.

  ‘I mean, first, when he got to even hope that his dad was coming back, I wished I could hope too. You know, that Mama would come back to us, too. But now Tobin actually gets his dad back. But Mama is never coming back. I can’t even hope for it. And it’s just not fair, that’s all.’

  Charlie sits back down on the edge of the bed and puts a warm hand on top of my knee.

  ‘I can certainly understand why you feel that way,’ he says. ‘And you’re right, it isn’t fair.’

  ‘It doesn’t mean I’m bad, to feel like that?’

  ‘No, Lem. Not at all.’

  ‘I mean, I’m still happy for them,’ I say. ‘I really am. But I’m also sad for me. And for you. Even for Mrs Dickerson.’

  Charlie drops his head and sighs.

  ‘I’m happy for them and sad for us too,’ he says. ‘I think that’s a very normal feeling to have.’

  I smile at him.

  ‘Thanks, Charlie.’

  ‘Goodnight, Lem,’ he says.

  ‘Night,’ I say, snuggling down under my rainbow duvet. I watch him turn off the light and walk towards the door.

  ‘Charlie?’

  ‘Yes, Lem?’ He turns back to face me from the doorway, the light from the hall shining on him.

  ‘You are what I’m most thankful for today.’

  Charlie looks at me for a long time without saying anything, and then clears his throat a couple of times.

  ‘Lemonade Liberty Witt,’ he finally says, ‘you are what I’m most thankful for every day.’

  48. Always Together

  Mama and I are at the very best table at Sunshine’s on the Bay. The one next to the front window that looks out over the water. We watch all the sailing boats and ships going back and forth across the Bay and listen to the barking sea lions on the dock nearby.

  I have my vanilla ice cream, with a mix of exactly fifty per cent hot fudge and fifty per cent caramel and a big fat glob of Marshmallow Fluff, with a spattering of rainbow sprinkles on the side. Mama has her chocolate ice cream with chunks of banana, whipped cream and a cherry on top.

  ‘Mama,’ I tell her, ‘I’m most thankful for having this time with you today. I wish it could be more.’

  Mama smiles her biggest smile. I gaze at her, trying to memorize everything about her. Her shiny lips and her eyelashes and the dusting of freckles on her nose and cheeks.

  ‘I wish it could be more too, Lemonade. But that’s out of our control. I’m thankful I got to be your mama, even if it wasn’t for the amount of time I had hoped or planned. And now you have Charlie to take care of you. Charlie and Mrs Dickerson and Debbie and Mr Harold and Tobin, too.’

  ‘And Scotty,’ I tell her. ‘He came back, Mama. Tobin and I found him in the woods.’

  She closes her eyes and nods slowly. She already knows.

  ‘Take care of each other,’ she says.

  ‘I wish it was you who came back.’

  ‘Me too,’ she says.

  ‘It’s not fair that Tobin gets his dad back and I don’t get you. It’s just not.’

  ‘In life, one thing is for sure,’ she says. ‘We don’t always get to choose.’

  ‘You can say that again.’

  She smiles.

  ‘Remember that with every loss, something meaningful and very special can blossom . . . if you allow it to.’

  ‘What good could possibly come from us not being together any more?’ I ask her.

  ‘It doesn’t mean what we’ve lost isn’t still important.’

  ‘But what could be good about it?’ I ask again.

  ‘I think you already know, sweet Lemonade.’ She smiles.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  Someone is knocking on the front window.

  ‘Lemonade!’

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  ‘Lemonade Liberty Witt!’

  I turn to see Tobin standing on the pavement, wearing his Bigfoot safari hat strapped tightly under his chin, with his Polaroid camera hanging from his neck. He’s peering at me between cupped hands through the painted letters on the window advertising the ice cream special of the month.

  TIME TO SQUEEZE THE LEMONS ICE CREAM SUNDAE

  ‘Lemonade!’ he calls again. ‘I’ve got to talk to you!’

  ‘Mama, please don’t leave,’ I say, turning back to face her. ‘I want you to stay like Tobin’s dad gets to.’

  ‘I wish I could,’ she tells me, standing up. ‘But remember that I will always be with you . . . in here.’ She taps my forehead gently. ‘And in here.’ She places her palm on my heart.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  ‘Lemonade!’

  My eyes peel open. I’m nose to nose with Rainbow, Mama’s worn blue bunny with the battered pink bow. And I know this sounds crazy, but I actually catch Rainbow smiling at me.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  The clock next to the bed reads 6.07 a.m. I squint towards the window.

  ‘Lemonade!’ Tobin calls through the glass. ‘Wake up!’

  I pull myself up, still in the clothes I had on last night, and push the blue curtains to one side. Tobin is standing there in his brown safari hat with the strap pulled tightly under his chin.

  ‘What is it?’ I say.

  He motions for me to open the window. The sun is just finding its way towards the sky, while the birds call out like an alarm clock, waking the forest grasses and leaves and trees to announce the new day.


  ‘We’re leaving for the hospital, and we’re going to be there all day,’ Tobin says. ‘You’re in charge of the Bigfoot Headquarters today.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘What do you mean, what for?’

  ‘I mean, I thought we solved the whole Bigfoot mystery—’

  ‘Tobin!’ Debbie calls from across the street. ‘We have to get going!’

  ‘Here.’ Tobin shoves a sheet of lined paper towards me.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Instructions.’

  ‘I don’t need instructions.’

  ‘You sure do. The last time I left you alone, you took that to mean go and play Kick the Can and eat knuckle sandwiches with Mrs Dickerson.’

  ‘They were finger sandwiches. Finger.’

  ‘Take it.’ He shakes the page at me. ‘Make sure you follow every step. That means opening up at oh eight thirty hours on the dot.’

  ‘Fine.’ I grab it.

  Tobin adjusts his chin strap and turns to leave.

  ‘Tobin,’ I say.

  He turns back.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I–I wanted to tell you, um . . . that I’m . . . you know, ah, that I’m happy for you. I mean that you . . . that you have your dad back and everything. I’m really happy for you.’

  Tobin smiles.

  ‘Thanks,’ he says. ‘I wish it was true for you, too.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Me too.’

  He looks away from me and down at his hands.

  ‘So don’t forget now, oh eight thirty hours and not a second later,’ he reminds me.

  ‘I won’t forget it,’ I tell him. ‘And you didn’t have to write it down, either.’

  ‘Really?’ he asks.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What do you want to bet you’re still going to be late?’

  ‘Nuh-uh, I’ll be on time. I promise.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ He grins.

  I watch him walk away with his safari hat still strapped tightly under his chin. He turns around one more time to wave and I wave back. And then he’s off across the street.

  On his way to see his dad.

  49. 8.30-ish

  (But Don’t Tell Tobin)

  Open the Bigfoot Headquarters at 8.30

  and not a minute later.