Inseparable Strangers

by Jill Patten

  There were a total of five cars in the parking lot, which meant more private time for me to spend with Justin. Some days, a new girl would pop in for the early routine but Justin would send them away, breaking their precious little hearts. I would sit off to the side and laugh to myself at them for being so stupid to not set up an appointment. Do people really think you can just show up at a gym and a personal trainer will be appointed to assist you? Idiots.

  With my water bottle in one hand, and my bag in the other I hopped out of my car and dashed under the shelter by the front entrance. Being one of the first to arrive had its perks when it came to bad weather. As soon as I walked through the sliding glass doors, Tracey, the girl who worked the front desk, informed me that Justin wasn’t coming in today.

  “Are you fucking kidding me? Couldn’t someone have called me so I wouldn’t have wasted my time driving over here at the crack-ass of dawn?” I snarled.

  Tracey’s eyes widened at my outburst. “I’m sorry, he just called about five minutes ago,” she said nervously, looking at her watch to confirm her time. “He said he was sick,” she added.

  I shook my head in disgust. “He has my number. He could’ve called me himself,” I spat out. “If your employers can’t follow proper protocol then maybe you should look for a replacement. Or maybe I should look for a new gym,” I seethed, slamming my hand on the counter to make sure I had her attention.

  Her eyes were still bulging like a deer caught in headlights. “I’m really sorry. I don’t know what else to tell you. I’m sure management will discuss this with him when he comes back in.” Fear flashed around her in sparkling lights. I thrived on the fear of others. It made me feel superior. Was it shallow of me to feel that way? Maybe so, but who the hell cared?

  “You just make sure you let management know that if this ever happens again, I’ll make sure I take my business elsewhere. As much money as this place makes off of me a year, I’m pretty sure they’ll take heed to my warning.” With that last comment, I turned my back to her and waltzed back to my car. If Justin wasn’t so damn hot, I’d text him and tell him he was fired, but he was too delicious to let go that easy.

  Now that my morning was free, I drove back home so I could spend a couple extra hours in my warm bed.

  My mood was bleak so I turned on Skrillex to suppress my temper. Music was my muse, and it was my number one go-to to pull me out of my funk. As I turned onto Woodsworth Drive, something along the embankment caught my eye. It almost looked like a person. It kind of looked like the bearded stranger. I wonder if he was here when I left this morning, and, if so, how did I not see him?

  Why? Why can’t I escape this guy?

  Once again, natural instinct took over my thought process, and I found myself pulling off to the side of the road. Dammit. It was him. He was lying face down on the ground. Anxiety took over as the first thought to cross my mind was death. He had to be dead and it was my fault. I made him leave without care. I never once checked on him throughout the night. He could’ve hemorrhaged to death. My mind ran frantic with all the possibilities of what was to come. I could be looking at manslaughter. My prints were all over him. There was proof of him being at my house. This was one of those times I didn’t know if Daddy could save me.

  My body shook with adrenaline as I trudged alongside the bank. I knelt down on my knees and shook him. “Hey, are you okay? Can you hear me?” No response. I shook him harder. “Please, wake up. You’ve got to wake up,” I pleaded. Worried that someone would see us, I hovered over him in an attempt to hide his body. My ears strained to listen for oncoming cars while I worked at flipping him over. His back landed on the wet ground harder than I’d intended. “Ahh!” he screamed out. The torrential rain drowned him out, and this time I was thankful for the shitty weather. I closed my eyes with relief that he was alive.

  “Get up. You’ve got to get up,” I yelled, pulling on his arm as I tried to stand up. “If you lay here much longer you’re going to die, and there’s no way I’m having your death on my conscience.”

  The rain was relentless on us making it harder to maneuver on the slippery grass. He pushed himself up with his left arm as I dug my heels into the mud along the bankside to give myself better leverage. In one quick jerk he was up on both feet. “C’mon, I’ll take you back to my house unless you’re ready to go to the ER?”

  He shook his head.

  “No you don’t want to go to my house, or no you don’t want to go to the ER?”

  “I’m not going to the hospital. You can leave me here if you don’t want to take me to your house.” A round of coughs attacked him causing him to bend over at the waist.

  “That cough doesn’t sound good. I think you have punctured a lung.”

  He shrugged me off.

  “You could have internal bleeding.”

  He shook his head again. “I’m fine. I just need some water.”

  It was amazing, even homeless freaks that were knocking on death’s door were as stubborn as any wealthy man out there.

  “Water? I think you need an IV, maybe serious narcotics, and an x-ray. I don’t think water is going to do much for you right now.”

  We fought against the mud and rain as we climbed back up the bank to my car. Seeing that he was so weak he could barely hold his head up, I covered the front passenger seat with clothes from my trunk and settled him in beside of me. My safety didn’t feel threatened anymore.

  His head lobbed against the passenger window, and I took comfort knowing he was alive each time I saw his breath fog up a small circle against the glass. I pulled the car into the garage and my eyes immediately took notice of the neatly folded comforters he’d placed by the steps. It was obvious he was in no condition to leave this morning, but he’d followed my instructions and left anyway.

  The realization dawned on me in that instant that I was going to have to care for this stranger until he was well enough to survive on his own. I’d never had to take care of anyone else before, not even a pet. I was a self-centered bitch. I didn’t have time, nor did I ever care to take the time to waste on another living creature. This was going to be an interesting adventure. If he knew any better, he would run as far away from here as soon as possible.

  He was still nestled against the door, and he stood nearly a foot taller than my 5’2” frame. I took the time to look at him while he slept. His face had so much damn hair, it made it impossible to know his age, but looking at the very few lines creasing the corner of his eyes, he couldn’t have been any older than thirty. His hands were the only other part of him that wasn’t covered up. His knuckles were cracked and bloody. Underneath his fingernails and around the cuticles were black with dirt. Aside from all of the filth, his hands looked young… gentle… overworked. This man had definitely lived a harsh life.

  I got out of the car and walked over to open his door. His body slumped over and I caught him with my thigh. His frail body was declining fast, and I’d wondered how long it had been since he’d ate. If he didn’t have the strength to walk, I didn’t know how I was going to get him inside, and I couldn’t leave him in the garage again.

  Taking a hold of both shoulders, I shook him hard. “Listen to me, you’ve got to get up. I can’t carry you inside, so you’re going to have to find the strength to walk.”

  His weakened eyelids opened halfway. The short, thick eyelashes feathered up and down as he fought to keep them opened. He nodded once to acknowledge me then gripped the metal edges of the doorframe to pull himself up. “Just use me as a prop and I’ll guide you along the way.”

  With trial and error, we finally made it into the house which brought us to the washroom. We both leaned against the wall to catch our breaths. He gripped his abdomen, and the threat of a punctured organ worried me again.

  “One more trip. If we can make it to the spare bedroom then you won’t have to walk anymore. Okay?” I asked, leaning down to look up at his face. His eyes were squeezed tightly together. “I know you’re in pain, and I�
��ll get you something to help with that as soon as we get you settled, okay?”

  He nodded once.

  I wrapped my arm around his waist and draped his arm around my shoulder. “When I count to three we’re going to go. Push yourself as hard as you can. The sooner we get there, the quicker it will be over.” Two days ago when he had helped me with my flat tire, I would’ve never imagined myself touching him, much less bringing him into my home. It was amazing how a simple turn of events could heavily impact one’s life.

  “One, two, three.”

  We shuffled down the hall like two kids would do when running in a relay race where you tie one leg to the others. It was a sloppy mess, but without any falls, we made it to the bedroom. He flopped onto the bed, and I cringed when I saw his dirty, wet body soaking through my five hundred dollar white comforter.

  “You can’t stay in those ol’ ragged wet clothes all night. My father looks close to your size, I’ll get you something dry to change into. In the meantime, see if you can peel those shredded pieces of cloth off of you,” I said as I dug through the drawers, pulling out grey sweatpants and a plain, white t-shirt. Any time I brought a guy to the house, he stayed in the spare room. I never brought my one-night stands to my bedroom. Most of the time when they stayed the night, they always seemed to leave at least one piece of clothing behind. I would make sure Zoila washed whatever it was and put them in here just in case I ever decided to invite them back. Mister Crip didn’t need to know they weren’t my fathers.

  I closed the door behind me to give him privacy. I just hoped he was coherent enough to cover himself up. A naked mountain man wasn’t something I took interest in seeing right before lunch.

  While I gave him time to change his clothes, I went in the kitchen to get him more ibuprofen and warm him some soup. Zoila kept my shelves stocked, so I was pleased to find a can of tomato. Let’s just hope he liked it. After fighting with the damn can opener, I dumped the contents into a bowl, added a little bit of milk, and then nuked it in the microwave.

  Lightly, I tapped my knuckles on the door before entering. I didn’t want to walk in on him and all his glory. When I didn’t hear anything on the other side, I knocked a little harder in case he hadn’t heard me. “Come in,” he replied with a low, weak voice.

  Carefully turning the doorknob, I juggled the bottle of water, bottle of pain meds, and his hot soup on a tray. He was curled up again in a fetal position on top of the comforter. At least he’s decent enough to not ruin my linen too. His pile of brown, wet clothes was folded in a neat pile beside the bed. Who the hell folds up rags that should be thrown in the trash?

  “Here I brought you some soup; I hope you like tomato,” I smiled. “I made it creamy to add a little more calorie to your diet. As weak as you are, you’re going to need to consume all you can in order to gain your strength back,” I said, placing the tray down on the nightstand. “It really wasn’t necessary to fold your clothes up so nice and neat. Unless you want them washed, you can keep what you have on now.”

  He winced as he straightened his legs out. “Thank you,” he whispered. I nodded once just as he’d done to me so many times. From all the time we’d spent together in the last twenty four hours, I’d learned he wasn’t a man of many words.

  I opened the pill bottle for him and took off the cap to his water, handing them both to him. The fur around his mouth moved a smidge and I wondered if he might have smiled at me.

  “You’re going to have to try and scoot back so you can rest against the headboard if you want to eat,” I suggested.

  Turning my back to him, I made myself busy doing nothing so I wouldn’t have to watch him suffer while he inched back little by little. When I no longer heard the heavy panting and the sound of cotton sliding along my ruined, white comforter, I turned back around to assist him.

  After he swallowed his pills and the entire bottle of water, I took the empty bottle from him, and then handed him the tray of soup. “Are you going to be able to manage this by yourself?” His hands shook uncontrollably and I was worried the hot soup would spill.

  He cocked his head up toward me, looking at me from an angle. “I might need a little help if you don’t mind.”

  Stepping closer, I took the tray from him then sat down on the edge of the bed. “Um… I’m not sure what you need me to do. Do you want me to hold the tray for you? Do you have the strength to feed yourself?” Not only was I one hundred percent out of my comfort zone, I was also freaking the fuck out inside because I couldn’t understand where the nurturing side of me was coming from. Caring and loving people weren’t on my list of character qualities. I preferred the harsher side of life. You couldn’t allow people to believe you were timid. They’d break down the door to your chest and still your heart before you knew it was no longer beating. That was why I kept mine hard, and if this crazy loon thought he was softening me up, he would be painfully mistaken.

  “Look, the soup’s not going to make the decision for you. Do you need my help or not? I’ve got things to do today and babysitting you wasn’t exactly in my plans.” While waiting for him to decide, I scooped up a spoonful of the creamy soup and held it up to what I assumed was his mouth. The thought of shaving his face while he was asleep crossed my mind.

  He slowly opened his mouth and I was surprised to see a full set of straight, white teeth. And they all looked clean and real. Nothing like the disgusting stained ones I’d seen in my dream. I’d never fed anyone a day in my life other than myself. I’d often watched mothers feed their babies and would think to myself how miserable of a life they must have, but as I sat there feeding the man from my nightmare, I realized it wasn’t as horrifying as I’d always assumed it to be.

  Chapter 5

  Harry (that was the name I decided to give him because he reminded me of a Sasquatch) ended up eating about a quarter of his soup before he started dozing in mid-bite. I’d watched many of those funniest home videos of kids falling asleep right in the middle of eating, but I’d never heard of a grown man doing it.

  He needed to eat to gain some of his strength back so he could hurry and leave, but I knew he needed rest more. His body had sustained so much already, it was a wonder he was even coherent. I think if he’d been alone much longer, he would’ve been a goner for sure. I wish I could understand why he was so persistent on not going to the hospital. Could it be because he didn’t have insurance? That wouldn’t matter though; uninsured people go all the time. Was he afraid he would have to report the guys that had jumped him? Was he already in trouble with the law? Oh God, maybe it was a drug deal gone bad. My mind was zooming through all the endless possibilities of the mysterious man lying in front of me.

  There was one thing for sure, when he did heal well enough to leave, he had a lot of explaining to do.

  While he slept, I found a pair of rubber gloves that Zoila used to clean the house with, and I picked up the raggedy pieces of material he called clothes. Using a tong to inspect them with, I dug through the pockets of his pants and coat only to come up empty handed. How does someone not have any proof of identity on them? Again, another question to ask once he woke up.

  Hoping that he wouldn’t mind, I took his rags to the trashcan by the curb and tossed them in there. If he needed clothes, I would buy some for him. There was no way I could stomach those clothes in my house any longer. It was tough enough having him in my house, much less on my bed. A bath was also in order once he woke. The filthy funk on him gave me the heebie jeebies, and the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to douse myself with scalding hot water mixed with bleach.

  Since I missed my morning workout, I resorted to one of my old Turbo Fire DVDs for the next hour. I set it up in the entertainment room so I could keep an eye on the hallway. If Harry was to wake up and try to leave, I would see him before he could escape. My gut told me as soon as he was well, he’d be gone once the opportunity arose. He may have saved me in the rain but I saved his fucking life, and I wasn’t letting him go until I
had answers.

  The day dragged on and I was becoming antsy as I waited for him to wake up. I wasn’t anticipating him sleeping all damn day. There were so many times I wanted to leave but I couldn’t. And if Zoila found him, she would freak out and call the cops claiming he was an intruder.

  The rooms throughout the house darkened as the night hour approached, and the outside lights filtered brightly through the skylight in the kitchen. You could tell the fall of the year was right around the corner by the shortened daylight. So many people who lived in the mountains loved this time of year. I wasn’t one of them. When the fall of the year rolled around, people from all the surrounding states of Virginia flocked to our town like a bunch of kids lined up at the mall to sit on Santa’s lap. You’d think they’d never seen a fucking tree in their life. What was the big fucking deal with watching a leaf die a slow death before it descended to the ground and rot into the earth? I hated tourists. I hated how they flooded our roads, driving as if they’d just received their license the day before. I hated how they’d swarm into the local merchant shops, feeding them their dollars as they ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ over fall foliage merchandise. It only encouraged the locals to continue holding their annual Autumn Leaves Festival. I hated people. People sucked.

  Cold weather depressed me. Nobody knew this, but then again, I didn’t talk to people either for them to find out. The less people you made friends with, the less drama you had, which resulted in less stress you brought into your life. And besides, Pam associated with most of the elites in town, so I avoided them to keep her out of my personal business.

  Time kept ticking by and I kept waiting around for Harry to show some sort of sign he was still alive. The idea of checking on him entered my mind, but I was too chicken shit to do it. What if he’d died in his sleep? What would I do with a dead body of a man whose name I didn’t even know? If he wasn’t awake by tomorrow morning, I was going to call the cops and have them come check on him themselves. I had earned my good citizenship badge after today.