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 yesterday’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…
There I go again. Imagination running wild once more.
At the river I pour cold water on my face and neck. I find a spot behind some rocks to do my business and then throw some dirt over it to cover the smell. Survival skills 101. Once I brush my teeth and use my little cup to rinse, I’m ready to go back. The new plan is to wait for Damon to wake up and ask him to help me—
I freeze. Right there, a few feet away on my side of the river is a bear. A big-ass brown bear that’s casually drinking water, not minding me at all. Has it seen me? Smelled me? Noticed me at all? Do I have time to turn and run or should I just drop down and play dead? Does that shit even work with a bear?
Before I can think of anything else, two arms wrap around me from behind. Normally I’d scream but I think I’m too scared to even think of screaming. A small whimper however does escape my lips until I realize it’s Damon.
“Don’t move,”
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 yesterday’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…
There I go again. Imagination running wild once more.
At the river I pour cold water on my face and neck. I find a spot behind some rocks to do my business and then throw some dirt over it to cover the smell. Survival skills 101. Once I brush my teeth and use my little cup to rinse, I’m ready to go back. The new plan is to wait for Damon to wake up and ask him to help me—
I freeze. Right there, a few feet away on my side of the river is a bear. A big-ass brown bear that’s casually drinking water, not minding me at all. Has it seen me? Smelled me? Noticed me at all? Do I have time to turn and run or should I just drop down and play dead? Does that shit even work with a bear?
Before I can think of anything else, two arms wrap around me from behind. Normally I’d scream but I think I’m too scared to even think of screaming. A small whimper however does escape my lips until I realize it’s Damon.
“Don’t move,”
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