Chapter 32

Thirty-Two

Iscrub the blood from my hands under an ice-cold shower and let the water run gently over the torn skin on my wrists. The left one looks especially bad. I dab iodine on it and wrap it in a bandage. Afterward, I look in the mirror of the hanging cupboard. There is a bump on my forehead with a deep gash running through the middle. I put a Band-Aid on it, surprised that I hardly feel any pain. I can only feel it as if through a thick layer of cotton.

As I ready the RV to leave, bitter nausea spreads through my stomach. Any further thought of what is to come is unbearable. I calm myself down, tell myself I could always go back, nothing is final, though I’ve never brazenly lied to myself. If I don’t let Lou go today, I’m afraid I’ll never be able to do it. Today, the memory of my fingers around her throat is fresh, my reasoning knows better than my instincts—perhaps for the first time since I kidnapped Lou.

I get up around six in the morning. The RV bumps over the gravel and I have to clench my teeth to keep from screaming. This time, after a short stretch on the forest road, I take a different route than on the way here. It is a shortcut that is only passable in one direction due to the slope. My destination is the nearest town with access to the Greyhound buses.

The spruces, rivers, and mountain lakes pass me like pale shadows, reminders of so much that I have experienced in the Yukon. Infinite loneliness, fear, but also deep love.

Eventually, I get on Highway 4 to Watson Lake. The sky is lead gray as if a higher power has swallowed the light—it is oppressive. I feel empty and hollow—like a receptacle from which the last drops of water have flowed. The only thing I feel is fear. The entire ride, it sits like a lump of ice in my chest and I can neither breathe it away nor deny it. And as if Grey were a mirror of my feelings, he repeatedly whimpers to himself. Shortly after Watson Lake, I set him in the passenger seat so his crying doesn’t wake Lou prematurely. Since then, as if in protest, he’s been throwing up every quarter of an hour and I can’t stop on the side of the road to wipe away the wolf’s puke.

Normally, I probably would have scolded him, half-serious, half-amused, but today I just silently wipe the mess up and pat him on the head. It’s not his fault he’s not the ideal travel companion.

In the afternoon, after many hours of driving, I arrive in Hudson’s Hope, a small town in British Columbia with a modest shopping center and a bus station. I certainly won’t find anything better for Lou today.

I park the RV in the back of the gray parking lot and draw the curtains. I don’t want Lou to see where we are right away, I want to surprise her. Of course, drawing the curtains is not fully altruistic, either. I would like to be alone with her again, to hug her again, without her knowing it is farewell.

My throat burns at the thought and I swallow the heat and congestion. I don’t know how Lou will take it. All these weeks she wanted nothing more than to get away from me. And when I told her yesterday that I had considered letting her go, she was overwhelmed. But she didn’t scream at the river. It’s possible that she doesn’t want to leave me anymore. Maybe she was overwhelmed because she felt it was the greatest proof of love she could ever get from me. Just like she did for me under the willow tree by the riverbank. But what should I do if she doesn’t want to break up with me? How do I make her understand that it’s best for her?

I wipe my forehead wearily as if that would clear all these thoughts out of my head. With cold fingers, I dig my cell phone out of the cupboard above the side door and turn it on. Then, I google the bus schedules from Hudson’s Hope to Calgary and from there on through the states of Montana and Idaho to Nevada—Ash Springs. It’s going to be a long journey. It reminds me of the time in Los Angeles in the Walmart parking lot, jotting down the things I needed for Lou. A spark of melancholy runs like an echo through my veins. At that time, I was full of hope for a better life. Those days, I actually thought I loved Lou. I figured a few pictures, a laugh, and all the information were enough to know someone.

In truth, however, I still don’t truly know Lou even if she’s closer to me than any human has ever been. Being close and knowing someone doesn’t necessarily go hand in hand.

I smooth the paper with one hand before folding the note and stuffing it into a yellow backpack. After that, I make mayo, ham, and cheese sandwiches, and sneak out the back to find Lou a change of clothes. As I do so, I discover the neatly folded newspaper articles I gave her so she would eat. So, this is where she kept them the whole time! Without thinking twice, I put them in the backpack along with the clothes, water, money, and provisions.

Finally, there is nothing left to do but wait for Lou to wake up.

I sit down at the table and stare straight ahead. I’ve never feared anything more than the moment Lou leaves me. I try not to think about anything, but I can’t get this scene out of my head: Lou crossing the parking lot and disappearing out of my life like she never existed. After a while, I realize I’m toying with the silver coin on my leather strap.

Memories try to surface, but I can’t think of that right now. Not yet—not while Lou’s still here. Instead, I untie the coin from the band. It was always my anchor, reminding me that I have a past beyond Thorson Ave. A memory of my mom. A sign that I exist. Today, I’m brimming with feelings, and even though they’re incredibly painful, I know who I am.

The coin would be a nice keepsake for Lou. Something I can give her so she won’t forget me. Or maybe she will put the coin down the day she realizes she never really loved me and her love was just a need for closeness. I tell myself that would be okay, but obviously it’s a lie.

I quietly go to the back, and at the risk of waking her up, I attach the silver coin to the pendant on the chain that also holds her brothers’ pendants. It fits seamlessly as if the space had always been reserved for it.

I trace Lou’s silhouette in the air with my fingertips. Her eyelids are dark, almost black, and her cheeks are narrow and hollow. Despite the contentment she exudes in her sleep, I can’t deny how sick and tired she looks. The marks on her neck have faded a bit, but they still seem like a dark reminder to me.

“Time to go home, Lou,” I whisper to her. “It’s time…to go home.”

I turn on the generator and put on coffee. Maybe it’s the noise that wakes Lou up, in any case, she stretches like a cat after a long nap. And as much as I wish she would roll over and go back to sleep, at the same time, I’m glad it’ll be over soon.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” I say as she sits up and I put the last of the pancakes in the toaster.

“Hey.” Her voice sounds hoarse. She feels her neck carefully, but stops as soon as I look at her.

“What time is it?” she asks, diverting attention so I don’t feel so bad.

“Afternoon.”

Lou scrambles off the bed and approaches me in her wrinkled jeans and heavy sweater. Her expression is serious and tranquil as she looks at me. I hug her without saying a word. Her body is soft and tender and utterly exhausted, fitting seamlessly with mine like a missing puzzle piece. Suddenly, everything is there again. Last night, the feeling of belonging together and being able to get through anything together.

What would have become of us if I hadn’t kidnapped her? Burning regret shoots through my heart as I realize how much easier it could have been.

You know I wouldn’t have said no, Lou said to me once, but now it’s too late.

I will never know how it would have been or if my flashes would have ruined everything.

Lou hugs me and I think about that stupid teddy bear mobile.

Mother, father, child.

It’s all over, but it feels like it’s only the beginning. An insane thought makes me realize that Lou and I would never have bonded this deeply if we had met in a normal situation. Lou would never have been who she is today and I probably never would have gotten my memories back. So, what is better for Lou? Is the new, quiet, more serious Lou happier than the carefree one? I know no one can ever answer that question for me. I don’t even have the right to ask. Maybe I don’t want the answer or there isn’t one.

I bend down to her and inhale her scent. No longer Nivea lemon, but firewood, smoke, and forest. Yukon.

When the coffee machine stops dripping, we let go at the same time. I lift Lou’s head a little to get a closer look at the bruises on her neck. Silently, I curse myself again. If I had any remaining doubts, the sight of my red fingerprints on her throat silence them for good. Lou notices my distress even if I don’t say anything and she quickly disappears into the bathroom.

When she comes out, she’s wearing fresh jeans and a yellow scarf with tiny colorful hearts. With a dark feeling in my chest, I notice she’s wearing the white blouse she wore to the campground.

I force a smile on my face and point to the table I set in her absence. “Sit.”

As I turn off the generator, Lou slides onto the bench. She looks around with a frown. “Why are the curtains drawn?”

“I wanted you to sleep as long as possible. It was, after all, light outside when we went to bed.” It’s damn hard to lie to her. I can’t maintain eye contact and stare at the pattern on the curtains. “Besides, I somehow found it more romantic,” I quickly add.

“Want to stay in here with me for the rest of today?” she teases.

I play along. “I can think of a few things I’d like to do with you…” I try to joke, winking at her.

Lou winks back, puts her head in her hands, and stares at the dishes like there’s nothing more interesting in the world. Can she feel my restlessness? I can’t tell, maybe I’m acting differently.

Suddenly, she straightens up and looks around. “Where’s Grey?” she asks, alarmed.

Deliberately calm, I pour coffee into two mugs, place them on the table in front of Lou, and arrange the pancakes on top of each other. “He’s in the passenger seat. Best leave him alone, he’s been puking all morning.”

“He threw up? Is he sick?”

I sit next to her on the bench. “Don’t worry. He probably ate something rotten in the forest. I’ll have to give him meat soon before he starts eating half-decayed carcasses.”

Lou appears relieved and smiles at me so sweetly it hurts. “I remember that vomit thing. But I won’t do that! You’re welcome to do it.” How her eyes sparkle, despite her exhaustion. She leans into me and I swallow several times in a row. It won’t be long and I’ll be sitting here alone like before. Then she’ll be gone and I’ll never be able to touch her again, never see her smile again. Cold creeps through my veins. I push the last thought away. I don’t want to think about it when she’s still so close to me.

“You haven’t slept at all,” she says all of a sudden, and I feel her scrutinizing sideways glance. “If you’ve been wiping away wolf puke all morning, you can’t have slept.”

“Yes, that’s right,” I admit. I must tell her. I’m sure she senses that something is off. It would be unfair to keep it from her any longer. I gesture with my chin at the pancakes and lemon cookies I bought at Walmart back then. “Eat something, please, Lou. You need to get your strength back.”

She smiles again, a real Lou smile, just a little wearier after last night. “Then you have to eat, too.”

“Okay.” I stare at the pancake, but I can’t eat it. At least she eats a bit. She has to be fit for the long trip, I don’t want her to collapse along the way. Maybe I should pack her more water. Maybe I still have to…

“What’s wrong, Bren?” Her impatient voice snaps me out of my thoughts. She energetically pulls the pancake out of my fingers and flings it onto the plate. “Say it!”

There’s no point in keeping it from her anymore. “Okay.” Shakily, I grab her warm hands, and as if Lou can sense my tension, she immediately stiffens.

“That day by the river when you didn’t call out to the men…” I begin, forcing myself to keep my voice steady. “You made a decision that was right for you at that moment. Or maybe it was wrong and it just felt right. I don’t know.”

“It still is right,” Lou says so firmly that a hint of a smile crosses my face.

“Maybe today. Maybe for you,” I reply softly. “But what about your family? What about your brothers?”

Lou swallows and her eyes fill with tears. I squeeze her fingers tightly.

“What if in five years, we break up? Then I stole a part of your life and deprived you of an education. And you will hate me.”

“I could never hate you,” she replies a bit muffled. When she looks at me, her face is as open as a book. She is pale, her lips thin, but her eyes sparkle with deep, sincere love.

I carefully guide our intertwined fingers to my cheek, my belly full of burning desire for her closeness. “I believe that you love me, Lou. Please, don’t think otherwise.” I bow my head. “But what if this love grew only because you were so lonely? Like you were the victim who fell in love with her kidnapper?”

Her expression looks pained. “Bren, what do you want to hear? What am I supposed to say? I don’t even know myself. I just know that I love you. I already liked you in the visitor center. I would have fallen in love with you anyway.”

“I’m not sure you’re in a position to judge properly at this point, Lou. So, I decided to make the decision for you.”

“What decision? What do you want?” A dark shadow crosses her face.

I press my lips together, but something happens to my eyes. They get wet and my vision blurs.

“Maybe is a yes,” I whisper harshly. Maybe is a yes. “And someday is today.” Good God, I don’t want to cry. If I cry now, I won’t be able to stop crying and I can’t do that to Lou. She should not leave me with the burden of pity and sorrow. I bite my lip hard and taste blood.

Lou looks at me in complete dismay. “You want…you want to let me go? Today?” The intensity of her confusion disturbs me even more.

“I don’t want to, Lou, but I must. It is too dangerous. Yesterday, I choked you like my stepfather did to me. What am I going to do tomorrow…?” I look at her, but I have the feeling she doesn’t hear me at all, as if she’s far away. “Believe me, I would love nothing more than to stay in the Yukon with you for the rest of my life. Far away from the world and all other people. I would wish for nothing more. If there was a way that would be fair to you, Lou…but there isn’t. We don’t even know what your feelings for me are based on…” Her blue eyes are like two lakes about to overflow. “Lou?” I whisper softly. “Lou…do you hear what I’m saying?”

She quickly shakes her head. “You can’t just send me away,” she chokes out breathlessly. “I won’t go.”

I get up and pull back the RV curtains so she can see where we are. Maybe that will make her realize how serious I am. Maybe she feels something like joy under her bewilderment. When I turn to her, I feel even more miserable. With a stony expression, Lou stares out, almost as rigid as when she sat at the back of the bed, frightened and lost.

“Bren…” she whispers. “How…I mean…what…” Stiffly, she rises and walks to the window by the sink, pushing back the curtain.

I can’t possibly tell what’s going on inside her. She peers outside as if it were a strange world that she no longer fits into. Just like I’ve felt over the years when I’ve had to return to civilization. No, like I’ve always felt, even after Thorson Ave.

“I’ve been driving all day. You…you slept deeply and didn’t notice anything. I wanted to surprise you,” I try to explain to her.

“Grey didn’t eat something bad,” she says darkly. She sounds like she is completely alone in the world.

“He didn’t enjoy the ride.” I put my hands over my eyes. The thought that she might not be able to cope with reality because of what I did to her weighs like an iron weight on my shoulders.

“Why…why, Bren? I don’t understand…”

I lower my fingers. She has turned around, still looking at me with absolute incomprehension. I slowly approach her and wrap my arms around her back. I pull her to me like I never want to let her go. The long branches of the willow appear in front of me as well as the dark blue water and Lou’s shiny body on the wet sand. “You don’t know?” I whisper hoarsely.

“Yes,” she whispers against my shoulder. “But why today? Why after yesterday?”

“The question is if not today, when?” I step back a little and take her head in my hands to get a better look at her. She looks back frightened, her lips trembling. She doesn’t understand. She may not understand how much I am still fighting myself. A man can find memories he has repressed, he can become someone else, but a part of his former self will never be erased, even if he does become a better person. That part is still in me and that part wants to keep Lou. Possessive and absolute. He remembers their encounter at the visitor center and Lou’s big blue eyes full of naivety and trust. “I’m afraid I’ll change my mind if I don’t let you go right now. Right now, do you understand?”

Her gaze flickers. “Now?”

I gently stroke her face, though I’d rather hit something. “There is no other way.”

“No…” Lou’s fingers tighten on my shoulders.

I feel her horror as I do my own. Cold, naked fear washes over me like a wave, paralyzing my thinking. I am going to go crazy. Once Lou is gone, I’ll go mad with grief and longing. My heart pounds. Numbly, I pull Lou to me, bend down, and rest my forehead against hers. God, it feels so good. No human being has ever meant so much to me and nothing has ever seemed harder. Even lying quietly in my narrow grave seems easier to me at this moment. When she’s gone, I’ll never be able to fill that warm spot in my heart again. It will be colder there than that icy December day. And yet it is the right thing to do. It’s the most horrible and best thing I’ve ever done.

“Lou.” I put into my words whatever warmth she inspires in me. “Trust me. It’s better this way. One day, you will know that it was the right decision. Maybe not today, but someday.”

“What about you?” she chokes out. “What will happen when you have another flashback?”

“After tonight… I’ll just pretend you’re with me.” It’s not the flashbacks I fear. As I let her go, I feel like I’m losing a part of me forever. “You’ve done so much for me, Lou. So much. All I can…must do for you is let you go…because I love you.” I walk to the door and yank it open. There’s a sadness inside of me I know I’ll never get rid of in my life.

Lou stands stock-still. The smell of garbage and exhaust fumes waft into the RV. Lou seems out of place in it. She belongs in the forest, in the Yukon, with me.

“You really should go before I change my mind.”

“I’ll say I ran away,” Lou suddenly says monotonously.

“Your brothers will despise you for it.”

“Ethan maybe.”

I have to think about what went through my head the other day. “You can also tell them the truth,” I reply calmly. I don’t want her to ruin her relationship with her brothers for me. That would be horrible. But I think Lou would have a bigger problem seeing me in a cell than I would, so I quickly add, “The police won’t find me.”

Lou stares at me for a long time. I see her struggle as she fights her tears and her resistance to climb down the steps. It seems to demand everything she has left in terms of strength.

“Where am I?” she suddenly wants to know in a firm voice.

There you go. You can do it, Lou!“We’re in British Columbia, Canada.” I quickly get the packed backpack out of the closet. “Money, provisions, a change of clothes, and the newspaper articles.” I point through the door at the building. “A quarter of a mile ahead is a shopping center and a bus stop. Greyhound buses will take you to any major city. From there, you transfer. I’ve packed you a list of time schedules and stops. Googled it on the Samsung.”

She looks at me in shock. “You have a cell phone?”

Not a good idea to tell her that. She shouldn’t be able to reach me, that’s what’s best for her. “I have no signal up there, Lou. Besides, it’s better if you don’t hear from me again for the time being.” The thing about the reception isn’t even a lie because although I usually have Internet access, the telephone connection is abysmal.

“I see.” She swallows dryly.

I smile and can hardly see her because my eyes are filled with tears. “Yes, soon you will understand.” It tears me up to speak as if I want this.

She looks across the dreary parking lot at the shopping mall. “Can you promise me something?”

“Depends.”

“Will you come back to Sequoia on June twenty-fifth next year? To the visitor center?”

My stomach tightens. I’m speechless.

“That was the day you kidnapped me.”

I laugh briefly, despite my sadness. “I know.” How could I ever forget?

“If we still love each other, then we’ll spend the summer together.” Lou’s gaze returns to me, filled with hope and something I can’t name.

My hands grip the straps of the backpack. It would be a sweet dream to pursue that thought, to have something to hold on to all the time, but it would be unfair to her. “I don’t know if that would be good, Lou. It would be better if you forgot me. And it would certainly be better for me if I forgot you.”

Lou reaches out to me, giving me the impression she wants to touch me. “Think about it,” she whispers and grabs the shoulder strap that I still grip like a life preserver. Then, without another word, she descends the steps. It’s like I’m only now understanding. I’m losing her. I’m losing Lou. Terror spreads inside me like a black ocean, filling my lungs. She can’t just go like that! All my muscles stiffen. I want to go after her, grab her, pull her back, kiss her, love her, but I can’t move.

At the bottom of the stairs, she stops as if waiting for something, but I can’t say anything. All words are gone.

“Bye, Bren,” she whispers, a weightless breath on the wind, and then she runs.

I bite my knuckles, my heart pounding heavy and hard in my chest. Wait! I want to scream, but I’m still mute and I watch Lou run step by step further away from me.

This didn’t just happen. I didn’t let her go. I couldn’t!

Lou, wait. Please wait!For a moment, I want to rush after her and bring her back. Tell her I’ll never ever let her go, but of course I won’t.

Knees shaking, I sink onto the RV’s steps and sit there. I fight back the tears with difficulty while Lou’s outline turns gray and merges with the surroundings. My little, brave, strong, crazy, warmhearted girl. Soon, she’s merely a dot, and then, she’s gone. Just gone.

Everything is kind of easy for you, isn’t it?

But this was not. She knows how hard it is for me and she made it easy for me. The way she made everything light, even my heart.

I stare at the parking lot, paralyzed, unable to do anything. I can’t move, I can’t breathe, I can’t scream. My fists want to smash something, but I just sit there and stare off into the distance. Everything is surreal. It’s like I am experiencing a flashback, like I’m not even here.

Grains of dust float by. The parking lot fills with cars, the sky turns lead gray, and a gusty wind sweeps maple leaves and plastic waste across the asphalt.

I don’t know how much time passes. Maybe it’s only minutes, maybe hours.

Where are you now? Are you already on the bus? Are you okay?

Suddenly, a shadow falls across me. At first, I think it’s Lou and raise my head hopefully, but it’s only a little blonde girl. Wind plays with her long hair.

My stomach knots in disappointment.

“Why are you crying?” she asks me bluntly.

I make an indistinct sound. “I’m not crying. I never cry.”

“Yes, you are.” She points to my face.

I wipe my cheeks in irritation. My hands get wet.

“My brother cries too, sometimes. That’s okay, I think. He’s still quite little.” She studies me, her eyes almost as blue as Lou’s. For a moment, she seems to consider if it’s okay for a man to cry, too. “William cries when he falls and hurts himself. Are you hurting, too?”

“Yes,” I whisper, new tears welling up in my eyes. The numbness that gripped me is leaving me. Hot sadness fills my heart, heavy and dark, clutching my chest, squeezing it. I can’t breathe for a second, thinking I’m choking on the pain. I groan, grabbing my hair in my fists and yanking at the clumps to feel something else.

“Harper!” A nervous woman’s voice echoes over to me. “You’re not supposed to run away!” Footsteps approach. I rock back and forth, back and forth, fists in my hair. I suck in air convulsively, a whistling sound. A young woman with a toddler in her arms and a shopping bag in her hand appears next to the RV. She reaches out to the girl. “You shouldn’t talk to strangers,” she scolds her.

“But he’s crying. He hurt himself.”

“Well, he’ll know what to do.”

I lower my arms, palms full of dark hair.

The woman purposefully looks past me.

Harper looks at me pityingly and holds up her hand. “I have to go.” She grabs her mother’s fingers and lets her pull her along. At some point, she glances over her shoulder. “Put some medicine on it!” she calls out to me. “It will definitely help.”

I wipe my face and stand up, limbs stiff. The dull pressure inside me makes me light-headed and dizzy. Everything hurts, every muscle, every bone, every fiber of my body. When I take a breath, my chest burns as if I had pneumonia. With a jerk, I pull the door of the RV closed behind me and sink to the ground. I curl up on the spot and feel my shoulders shake. I clutch my hair again. Deep, heavy sobs break out of me, and I feel like I’m crying for everything right now.

For Lou, my lost childhood, my mom, the person I could have been, and for all my missed opportunities.