I’d asked about his collection and prayed he had one. If not, then I would be back outside in the rain.
“I collect a few things.”
“You do?”
He walked to a closet, lugged out a plastic bin, and cracked it open. Before pulling anything out, he eyed me. “This is a little strange, you know. I’ve never met a doctor who makes home visits or asks about my hobbies. You really want to see my collection?”
“Yes.”
He shrugged, then lifted out a newspaper-wrapped package. The paper crinkled as he removed it.
I crossed my fingers. What would I do if he had a stamp collection? Or worse?
He pulled out a dragon.
Houston, I have a patient.
I took the statue from him. The wood weighed heavy in my hand. “Not a bad item in terms of quality. Solid oak, with attention to detail. This is pretty good.”
“It’s all right. I haven’t unpacked yet because I don’t know where to put them. Back at my mom’s house, I kept them on some shelves in the living room.” He swallowed. Perhaps Mom was a sore subject. Unpacking a few more statues, all in pristine condition, he placed them on the coffee table. “I still don’t know why you care about these.”
I only smiled. He’d find out soon enough. Scanning the rows of dragons, I looked for one in particular. Dragons in glass, in pewter, and a few more wooden ones—expensive pieces—lined the table, but I looked for something else. I thought I wouldn’t find it until I spotted a multicolored dragon. Pointing at it, I asked, “What’s that?”
He picked it up. “My first one. I was five when I got it.” He held it with reverence.
“May I look at it?”
Elmore hesitated, then handed it to me. The dragon was squat with a silly grin and two fat horns. The chipped paint was thick in places, bare in others. Some of the colors blended to make an interesting shade of brown. “Did you paint it?”
He nodded. “We went to this charity thing at a church. They were letting kids do crafts and such. I’d never painted anything. I botched it up pretty good.”
“Why did you keep it? Most people would throw away something like this after a while.”
“I guess.”
“But you kept it?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me more about the day you got it?”
He cocked his head. I’m sure he wondered where I was going with this, but he didn’t question me. “It was Halloween. My mom took me to the church because she thought they’d have a free meal. They didn’t. They just had crafts and games and stuff. Didn’t even give out candy. My mom got pretty mad. We went home. She found some liquor.” He blew out a breath of air. “I didn’t realize I’d be talking about this.”
“It’s okay.”
He stared at the dragon as he spoke. “We were poor. Really poor. I remember because I hadn’t eaten for a day and a half.”
“I’m sorry.” I knew where he was going with his story, and it made me cringe. I’d heard stories like this too many times to count, and still I cringed.
“I’ve never really told anyone.”
I gave him the dragon statue. “Believe me, I understand.”
The ticking of a clock broke up the silence. Staring at the statue, he said, “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”
“It happens to a lot of people. Go ahead.”
His voice grew distant. “I knew she wouldn’t let me go trick-or-treating, so I stole her lipstick and grabbed a pillowcase. When my neighbors asked, I told them I was a clown. They gave me a few stares, but no one turned me away. When I got home, I ate my candy until it made me puke. I must’ve passed out because the next thing I remembered, Mom stood over me. I laid in my own vomit. I’ll never forget that smell.” He wiped his nose. “I still smell it sometimes. In my hair.”
I leaned forward. His story was heartbreaking, but I knew I hadn’t heard the worst of it. “Was your mom angry?”
“She laughed when she saw me. Said I got what I deserved. Then she locked me in the closet. I’d thought going for a whole day and a half without food was bad, but…” He stared at his hands.
“Elmore,” I said after a pause. “Do you remember what happened in that closet?”
He looked up. “I remember starving. I remember holding it until I had to urinate all over myself. The worst part was knowing my mom was out there. I went to sleep knowing that she’d put me there.”
“What happened after that?”
“After a few hours, I woke up. I remember thinking, Mom loves me. She’ll let me out. And it made me feel better for a little while. But then my hunger returned, worse than I’d ever felt before, and I knew,” he swallowed, “I knew I would starve to death. The thirst and hunger were eating me from the inside out, so I curled up on the floor and waited to die. The thought of my own death frightened me as I drifted off. But then…”
“Then what?”
“I woke up and found the door open. I knew my mom had left hours ago. She couldn’t have opened the door. It was weird. I don’t know—I was certain I was going to die, but I didn’t. The strangest part was,” he paused, stared at the ceiling, then began again, “I’m probably crazy for saying this, but I didn’t feel hungry anymore.”
“You weren’t hungry?”
He shook his head.
“Are you sure you remember correctly?”
“Yes,” he answered.
I leaned forward, choosing my words carefully. “Elmore, what if I told you that something happened to you in that closet—something impossible for you to comprehend?”
“Like what?”
“Your heightened emotions may have opened a portal to an alternate world called Faythander. You traveled to fairy world.”
He looked at me as if I’d lost it.
“Your emotions opened the portal as a way to escape. It happens to
