Jack’s eyes softened, moistening imperceptibly. “What kind of bad stuff?”
“Evil bad. People dying. Burned alive. People I know. People I love.” Typhus discovered he was physically unable to recount any more detail than that-he hoped Jack wouldn’t push it. “I couldn’t make it go down. I tried and tried. Finally I got a knife…thought about cutting it…got scared…then I got on my bike and came over…”
“Well, now, boy. Ain’t no crime to have a bad dream. And sometimes a person’s lower body region can act in mysterious ways. Don’t mean you was sexually interested in the bad things you saw in the dream.”
“But I was.”
“Was what?”
“In-trested.” A pause, a glance down, a whisper: “Seck-shully.”
“I think there’s a good chance you’re confused about that, son.”
“I was,” Typhus insisted in a whisper, closing his eyes in shame.
“Well, let’s say you were,” Doctor Jack said firmly. “Still ain’t no crime. And the fact you’re so bothered about it shows you got a good conscience.”
“But there’s a part of me that ain’t ashamed. A part of me enjoyed it. A part that wanted it to happen.”
“Nonsense, boy.”
Typhus got to his feet, wondering whether he should go on talking or just let the conversation end there. More words left his lips before he was aware of his decision to speak:
“I felt this way one other time, Doctor Jack.”
“I see.” And he did see. He knew exactly what Typhus was talking about, there was no need for Typhus to go on explaining.
But the talking was a release for Typhus, so he continued:
“When I was nine. When that thing was in me. Before Daddy took it out. That bad thing I took out of the Sicilian baby-”
“Shhhh…” Jack got up to put an arm around Typhus’ shoulder. “You ain’t gotta say another word about that.”
“I gotta say one thing…”
“No you don’t.”
“It’s just that…”
“Shhhh…”
“…it ain’t all gone.”
“Of course it is.”
“No. It ain’t.”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“It’s still in me, that thing. I know it.”
“What’s in you is a
Typhus broke into sobs, wanting to believe Doctor Jack. Unable.
“Typhus, now listen,” said Jack as he rubbed Typhus’ shoulder. “That thing you went through way back when, that’ll always stick with you. But it’s a memory now, nothing more. This thing that happened tonight-well, I reckon that’d be the result of a combination of things. Bad memories mixed with natural feelings of longing. I ’spect if there’s a cure for yer troubles, it’d probably be by fixing the latter. Having all them longings done opened a big ol’ window for those bad memories to come rushing out at you.”
“Ain’t got no longings like that, Doctor Jack. Not no more. Not since you give me Lily.”
“What I gave you was a pretty piece of paper, Typhus. I thought it might be enough, but looks like it ain’t.”
“Don’t want no one but my Lily, Doctor Jack. Thanks anyhow.”
“Didn’t say nothing ’bout no one else.”
Typhus looked up, startled by the implication.
“That’s right, boy. I believe it might be time for you and Miss Lily to meet in person.”
Typhus’ expression changed quickly from joy to hope to suspicion to something like anger. “You playin’ games with me, Doctor Jack? Could be I ain’t as gullible as you think.”
Jack’s own expression performed a similar succession; shock to anger to barely concealed amusement.
“I know yer in a bad way, so I’ll let that pass. Can’t says I blame you for not believing-but it’s true enough. Lily’s alive and well and not at all far off. Now, I ain’t saying she looks just like in the picture. That picture was took long ago. If you want her to be young and pretty, then I guess I oughtn’t bother. But if you really love her, then what she looks like shouldn’t oughta matter much.”
Typhus considered this new possibility. Could he trust his own heart if Doctor Jack was telling the truth, if he was really able to meet the real Lily, the flesh and blood version? If she wasn’t beautiful like in the picture, would it matter to him? Would he recoil from her? The questions didn’t seem fair at first-but then he considered her eyes. How he’d always longed to see them in person, how he’d wondered about their color. He’d always imagined them green. He
“It doesn’t matter,” Typhus said at last.
“Well, then. It’s settled. You get yourself some sleep here tonight, then go on home in the morning and get cleaned up. Come back when the sun down. ’Tween now and then I’ll have had a chance to talk to her, maybe make some sort of arrangement.”
Typhus stood silent with a cautious grin on his face. Dr. Jack’s sleep remedy was swimming madly in his blood, doing battle with a rush of adrenaline. His swirling thoughts focused loosely around an image of his best shirt, the one he’d wear to meet Lily the Real Live Girl tomorrow evening.
“Typhus?” Jack was smiling.
“Yes, sir?”
“There’s a possibility, you know, that she won’t come. I don’t want you to be too disappointed if she don’t.”
Typhus was disappointed at the mere thought. Still, he was high on this bit of hope. Sometimes hoping feels the same as winning. Sometimes hoping is good enough.
“No, sir. I understand.”
“Good. Now, go on and git some sleep,” said Doctor Jack.
“All right, then,” said Typhus simply.
“All right, then” agreed Jack.
“Dr. Jack?”
“Yes, Typhus?”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
“All right, then.”
“All right, then.”
“Good night.”
“Good night.”
Chapter thirty-eight. Blindfold
The sun was down but the air still hot when Typhus began his walk back to Doctor Jack’s
