“Where did you go after that?”
“Here and there. I stayed back in The Pit for a while. Though it’s hardly habitable anymore. Not after the fire.” He glanced at me and I had to look back down at my paperwork.
Memories…lots of them made it hard to breathe.
“There were many nights I spent sleeping in the woods. Shelters, when things were really rough, but after the stabbing thing, I wouldn’t go back there. Then I met Perry and Gail. Perry had just gotten out of jail for drug possession. He’s a Gulf War Vet with some serious PTSD. Lost his job and like the rest of us, had nowhere to go. No one that gave a shit. Except for Gail. She’s an addict though. One of the worst I’ve seen. She would hang out by the river to make money and that’s where I met her. They’re good people. Fucked up people, but decent folk. They offered to let me stay with them at the house by The Pavilion. At least it was dry and somewhat warm.”
“What were you doing during the years before you moved to your apartment? Where did you go? Where did you sleep?” Yoss seemed to be in a talkative mood and I wanted to find out as much as I could.
“Around,” Yoss answered dismissively, which irked me.
“Around? What does that mean? Were you still in Lupton?” I demanded.
“I left town for a little while. Not long. Just a month or so.”
“Where did you go?”
“Nowhere important. I stayed for a while after you—” He cut off quickly. “I left but then realized I needed to come back. That life was way worse away from here. I stayed at The Pit some of the time. I met some people and slept on couches, that sort of thing.”
“Why did you need to come back?” I pestered.
“Just did,” he evaded.
Then I went for it. I plunged right into the topic that we were both dancing around.
“Why didn’t you come looking for me?” I asked and instantly wished I could take it back. This wasn’t about me after all. This wasn’t aboutmypain.Mybetrayal.
But our feelings had always become tangled up in each other. It was hard to separate one from the other.
Yoss’s eyes found mine again and I felt it.
The connection.
The slow, steady thumping of his heartbeat. And mine.
“Why?” I asked again, a little more insistent this time.
Yoss opened his mouth. Then closed it again.
He appeared conflicted.
“Mr. Frazier, it’s nice to see you a bit more animated,” Dr. Howell said, breaking the spell, ruining the moment. I sagged back in my seat, unfairly annoyed with the doctor for intruding.
Dr. Howell glanced at me, realizing I was there. “Imogen, hello. I’m sorry to interrupt, but I have the results of the liver function test. It’s good you’re here, so we won’t have to debrief later.” Smiles. Lots of them. They were all fake.
I had worked with Dr. Howell long enough to know how to read him. And I knew his news wasn’t good.
My guts twisted up as I waited for the anvil to drop.
Yoss scratched nervously at his stitches again. He seemed to pick up on the doctor’s vibe as well. He looked at me. Then away. Then at me again. I tried to send silent encouragement his way, but I wasn’t sure he received it.
For the first time since I had found him in this hospital room he looked scared.
Dr. Howell opened Yoss’s chart, his brow furrowed.
“Your hepatitis B is chronic, meaning given your high virus levels, you contracted the illness some time ago. It could have been years. Which unfortunately means that it has affected your liver.”
Yoss looked out the window and I couldn’t be sure he was even listening to Dr. Howell anymore. He seemed to have locked inside himself. Somewhere no one could reach him.
