Caveman

by Andrian, V.

He doesn’t answer and doesn’t look at me. So I do the only thing I can. I burrow myself into his chest, trying to cover any part of me I can reach but also looking for more of his warmth. I think maybe his arms tighten around me marginally.

  I don’t think a long time has passed when he stops and I look up. “Oh my God!” I breathe. “Is this…?”

  “Here,” he says softly and lowers me to the ground. When my feet are steady, he pulls back. “Have your bath here.” And then he’s walking away.

  My mouth is hanging open and I don’t know what my reaction should be. Be upset over him leaving me alone out where I can’t find my way back or be thrilled of the place he has brought me to? Since I like to hope he’ll be coming back to get me, I choose the latter and turn my focus to the awesome sight before me.

  A hot spring!

  If it weren’t for the steams hovering over the water you’d think it was just a regular lake. But there isn’t really anything regular to be described in the marvel in front of me. I’m on top of a small hill with a warm pool in front of my feet and an amazing view of the forest and mountains surrounding the area. Absolutely mesmerizing!

  I quickly remove my underwear and step inside. Minutes ago I said no way was I removing all my clothes. Now I say no way am I letting those scraps of clothes get between me and that hot water. I sink into that little piece of heaven and let out a long sigh. Without giving it any thought I also dive my head inside and let the warm water do its healing. Healing my ankle, my fears, my soul.

  I resurface and make my way to one side of it a little further from the access point, making sure to keep my body submerged the whole time. The water feels so divine I can’t think of a reason I would ever come out. I close my eyes and drop my head back against the rock, letting my mind drift off.

  “Hungry yet?”

  My caveman’s voice startles me and I nearly jump out of the water before I remember I’m completely naked under the surface. I instinctually cover my breasts with one arm as I turn my head to find him. He’s sitting right next to the spot I’ve dropped my underwear and has piled my clothes over them. Next to my clothes is a bag – my bag!

  “You found my bag?” I all but screech. Oh, God! My clothes. My phone. My toothbrush and toothpaste! My towel! I think I might cry!

  He nods and pushes to his feet. Without another word he walks back towards the path and disappears. Did he just leave me again? This man has serious social issues.

  I quickly make my way out of my dream pool and find my towel and a clean set of clothes from my bag. Once I’m dry and dressed again, I shove everything back in my bag and start towards the path. My ankle isn’t bothering me yet and I want to hurry in case I catch up to my—

  I bump on a solid wall of hard muscle and inhale sharply. He grabs my arms to keep me steady. My heart is beating wildly in my chest. “Sorry,” I mumble when I finally can get my mouth to move.

  His grip tightens a bit before he drops his arms. “Can you walk?”

  I nod, lost in his gaze. He’s taller than me by a head, making him at about 6’ 3’’, if my estimations are correct. He still hasn’t stepped back and my breasts are brushing his chest. I let out a short exhale when I feel my nipples tighten and am the first to take that step back.

  He takes my bag from my hands and whirls around, starting down the path with me on his heel. I notice that he’s probably not going at full speed in order for me to catch up. As soon as we are back in the cabin though, he drops my bag on the porch and leaves. I want to ask where he is going but I hold my tongue. It’s none of my business and I don’t want to get on his nerves and have him throwing me out with absolutely no way of going back to civilization.

  So instead, I get inside and place my bag next to the bed. I’m even more surprised to see my case folder on the table, next to my briefcase. Did he open it? Did he read it? I’m a little annoyed that he would look at my personal stuff without my permission but I’m actually curious of what he thinks of it. Of what he thinks of me. If he did read the case file, it means he knows why I’m in Alaska.

  My hand moves before I can stop myself and I open the case file. Damon’s photo is right there, on the top, attached to the sheet of paper containing every piece of information I have on him. I run my fingers over the edges of the photo and freeze.

  “Oh my God,” I breathe as the realization hits me like a freight train. It’s him. Damon. My caveman. They are one and the same.

  How could I not have seen it until now? I’ve memorized that picture. I’ve memorized every little detail about him including his hair and eye color. I had sensed some kind of recognition from the moment I’d first saw him leaned over the fireplace but I hadn’t made the connection. Oh my God, this is beyond unbelievable. I found him!

  I start turning around to go talk to him but stop short. Another thought comes to mind and it’s confusing me. He read the file. He must have because it couldn’t have gotten out of the briefcase on its own and he wouldn’t have taken it out just to lay it on the table for me. So he knows it’s him I’m looking for. But why didn’t he say anything? And why is he here, in the middle of nowhere living like a hermit?

  His hair, his beard… I think he has been here ever since he left seven years ago. He had planned to come here all along. He had planned to leave civilization behind. But why? He had everything and he left it all… for this? A log cabin in the middle of nowhere with the only plus being a hot spring within a fifteen-minute walk? It doesn’t make any sense.

  It strikes me then that I found him. And the irony is that I found him after my plane crashing on my way to McCarthy. Where I thought he was but is proved that he wasn’t. It’s like… like the plane crashed so I would find him. Which is morbid since the pilot died but I can’t help feeling that I was somehow meant to find him and fate brought me to him.

  I close the file and sit on the chair. I want to understand him. I want to know what was so bad that drove him away from a dreamy life. And then I want to get him and go back. I want to close this case and give him his life back. But will he want it?

  The door to the cabin swings open and my caveman comes in, holding the metallic plate filled with cooked meat. I lift my head from where I’d dozed off on my arms and blink up at him. Damon. He’s Damon. I should have seen it. Now that I know it seems so obvious. The only difference from the photo is his hair and beard.

  His eyes see the folder under my hands but he doesn’t say anything. A muscle in his jaw is ticking and he places the plate in front of me. “Eat,” he says simply.

  I’m hungry but I don’t care about food in the moment. Instead I point a finger on the file. “You read this.” I’m not asking. I know he did.

  His eyes are incomprehensible as he holds my gaze. What is in his mind? Can he see what’s in mine? Can he tell the swirling emotions inside me now that I know I found him?

  “I did,” he says eventually and turns to the fireplace.

  That’s it? That’s all he’s going to say? I push up from my chair and point at the file again. “You’re him. You’re Damon Sawyers.” A lump forms in my throat as I speak. “I found you,” I add as a soft sob escapes along with my words.

  He clenches his hands to his sides but doesn’t turn around to look at me. “Eat,” he says sharply.

  “No,” I insist. “I found you. You’re Damon Sawyers.”

  “I’m not,” he barks out.

  “You are! Your hair is different and you have a beard but I know it’s you. I think I knew from the moment I first saw you but I didn’t make the connection. But it’s you! You’re Da—”

  “I’m not him!” he yells and spins around to pin crazy eyes on me. “Now eat your goddamn food and be done with it.”

  I’m speechless. And I’m disappointed. I hadn’t imagined this when I pictured finding him. “Why?” I whisper. “Why would you lie when I know I’m right? Do you know what your brother has gone through to find you? He’s been looking for you ever since you left. He thought you were dead
. He was desperate when he came to me. That’s why I was in Alaska in the first place. So why would you lie when it’s so obvious what the people who love you are willing to do to get you back?”

  His face stays impassive as I speak except for his wild eyes and that muscle still ticking in his jaw. He takes a step towards me and I fight the urge to back away, repeating to myself that he’s not going to hurt me. When he’s only inches away from me and I can almost feel his breath on my lips, he speaks in a low, dangerous voice.

  “I’m only going to say this once. That guy in the picture? He’s not me. He is a stupid boy who thought things would one day get better, that he would get everything he wanted. That guy is who the man who hired you is looking for. He’s not me. I’m not him. I don’t know what other words to use to make you understand.” He holds my gaze for a long, silent moment and then walks to the door. “Eat and leave the plate there. I’ll clean it in the morning.”

  And then he’s gone.

  Chapter Six

  Damon didn’t sleep in the cabin the last two nights. He hasn’t said a single word to me in two days. He comes in to leave a plate of food on the table for me and he goes out again. He thinks that way I’m going to drop the subject but he doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know I can be an annoyingly stubborn bitch.

  So I have a new plan. Get him to admit – even in anger – that he is, in fact, Damon Sawyers. After his little speech that night, I know he must have had good reasons to leave and I don’t want to know them. Okay, no. I’m dying to know. I’m just not going to bother him about it. If he wanted to tell me, he would have already.

  I’m seriously considering telling Mr. Sawyers that I found his brother’s grave here in Alaska if Damon really wants to be left alone. This place has become his home in these seven years and I would never want to take someone out of their home. I just want him to admit that it’s him I’ve been looking for.

  I’m thrilled that I found him. Actually thrilled, with the urge to jump around and shout out in glee. Other than the small detail that he’s not admitting it, he’s exactly like everyone described him. He took care of me when I was hurt, makes sure I don’t die of hunger or thirst every day and let’s not forget the part where he took me to the hot spring. I mean, what better way for a guy to show his true character than carry a half-naked woman on a rocky path so she can have her hot bath? And not molest her, mind you.

  My feminine ego is still a little bruised by that actually. Here I am, drooling over him whenever I catch a glimpse of him shirtless and he had me half-naked against his body and wasn’t affected. I mean, it’s not like he has much of a choice in women out here in the wild. And if my assumptions are correct, he must have been all on his own all this time. So how can a girl not be offended?

  I’m being paranoid, I know. If anything, his non-action shows more about his character. But that crush I’ve developed on him – yes, I can now admit it is a crush – has me wishing he wouldn’t be so nice. That he would see me half-naked and do something about it. I mean, something other than find me a hot spring to bathe in.

  So, as I said before, I have a plan. And it starts as soon as he comes back from wherever he is currently hiding.

  He walks in as usual with a plate of food. When he turns around to leave again, the first phase of my plan is on.

  “Damon, can I talk to you for a moment?”

  He freezes on his way to the door and his hands fist on his sides. I don’t give him a moment to argue about the use of his name and go on.

  “I was wondering if there is a way you could draw me a map towards the nearest road? My ankle is almost completely well and I thought I’d get out of your hair.”

  He doesn’t turn around and doesn’t answer me. I’m holding my breath in wait of his response and I really don’t know what I want it to be. That he will do it? That he can take me there? That he doesn’t want me to leave at all?

  Who am I kidding? The girl inside me with the crush on him wants him to take me in his arms and tell me that I’m not going anywhere. That he will keep me with him forever. Enter wedding bells.

  He turns his head to the side so he can look at me out of the corner of his eye. “I’ll think of something.” And he’s gone.

  Okay. I’m a little disappointed. Not only did he not argue me leaving but he completely bypassed the part where I called him by his name. I got no reaction whatsoever.

  No worries. I just have to be more persistent.

  “Good morning, Damon.”

  “Thank you, Damon.”

  “Damon, I’m going up to the spring again.”

  “Damon, is there something I can do to help around here? I’m feeling pretty useless.”

  “My ankle is doing pretty well, Damon. Thank you for taking care of me.”

  “I know what you’re doing,” he says in a low voice after three days of the same pattern.

  “What am I doing?” I ask innocently.

  He looks up from where he’s rearranging the logs in the fire. “Trying to get me to admit I’m him.” He pushes to his feet. “It’s not going to work because I’m not.” He starts for the door.

  “I know every single thing about you. It’s my job to. Okay, I’ll admit that – since you’re my first case that doesn’t involve photographing other people having sex – I’ve also become slightly obsessed in finding you and everything about you. I know you had a rough time growing up because of your father and I know how close you were with your brother. I know you were also close to Victoria, your brother’s girlfriend. Do you know they’re married now? Do you know they have a child, a little baby boy? Do you know you’re an uncle?”

  His back stiffens but that’s the only reaction I’m getting so I push on.

  “I also know about your bitch of an ex and you’ll be glad to know that she’s unhappily engaged to a prick who’s cheating on her. Or maybe you won’t be glad because you’re a good man. Someone that gets involved with charity and makes sure every person that’s working under him is happy and well taken care of.”

  I see his shoulders moving as he breathes in and out and then he grabs the doorknob and pulls the door open.

  “I know you’re Damon Sawyers not only because you are the man in the picture but because everything I just described is still you. You took care of me, without even knowing me. You pulled me out of a burning airplane and carried me across the forest. Bandaged my swollen ankle and made sure I didn’t walk and make it worse. Made sure I had food and a place to sleep in and clean up. Okay that last part could have been for your own benefit because you couldn’t stand how I smelled but you get my point.”

  He turns his head to the side again. “I’m not him,” is all he says.

  You stubborn little— “Then who are you? What’s your name?”

  “I’m no one,” he says in a voice just above a whisper. “I have no name.”

  He’s half-way out the door when I speak again. “I know you, Damon. You may not know me but I know you. I knew you for almost four weeks before I met you and I know you now. And I understand. Not the reason you’re out here all alone but the fact you want to keep that reason to yourself. I’m not asking you to tell me and I’m really not asking you to give anything up. Well, I’d like you to give up on your stubbornness and admit I’m right. It’s what I need to feel like I’ve done my job. I promise I won’t even tell anyone I found you if that’s what you want.”

  He turns his face fully towards me and grabs the handle from the outside, as if to pull the door closed when he leaves. “I’m not him,” he repeats. There’s something different about the way he says it though. Something in the way he’s looking at me. Like he’s pleading me to understand.

  And that’s when I do understand. “You’re not him because you never were or because you’ve changed and left that Damon Sawyers behind?”

  Is that relief I see in his eyes? “I’m not him because he never existed. He was a lie, one that was used until no longer needed and then thrown out like yeste
rday’s trash. You want to call me by that name to keep conversation, fine. But it doesn’t change the fact that the Damon Sawyers you’re looking for is dead. He died the day your file says he disappeared. He died on July 24, 2008.”

  He holds my gaze for a long moment and I can’t help the tears that drip on my cheeks. To give him a small nod of understanding is all I can do. I think he hesitates, maybe even leaning forward as if he’s about to come to me but he doesn’t. Not even when I silently urge him to do so. He just backs away and pulls the door close behind him.

  I slowly walk to my briefcase and take out the case file and a pen. With the tears still leaking out of my eyes I scribble down a few words and then go to sleep.

  I’m more than surprised to find Damon sleeping in front of the fireplace when I wake up. Not only because he actually slept in the cabin but also because he actually slept in. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him sleep in the week I’ve been here. He somehow seems both calmer and wilder. It brings a small smile to my lips.

  That smile disappears as soon as I remember last night’s talk. He has said his final words. I’ve made my decision about what I’m saying to Mr. Sawyers. It’s time for me to leave, try and find my way back to civilization, back to my life. I’m going to ask Damon to draw me an estimated route and I’m going to try and make it back on my own. But why do I feel sad about it?

  Well, duh. Because I’m going to be leaving him here. Behind. Alone. Because at some point in my stupid mind I imagined he’d be admitting his identity and coming back with me. I had even pictured about his reunion with his brother and sister-in-law and that I’d be part of their joy and happy tears. My imagination can run wild at times.

  I quietly make my way out of the cabin and follow the path that leads to the small river. I’ve always been good in navigation and I don’t find it hard at all to find my way through the trees once I’ve walked the route once. I chuckle to myself as I think how I’d be okay if I had to live the rest of my life here. As long as I found a way to occupy myself and help Damon…