Inseparable Strangers (6 page)

Harry’s question
threw me for a spin. I knew he was a little out of it, and perhaps confused,
but not suffering from memory loss. Hopefully it was only short term, and he
would be able to give me answers soon.

“You don’t
remember anything?”

He shook his head.

“Do you remember
anything from yesterday?”

Again, he shook
his head.

Shit.

“Okay, to make a
long story short…,” I proceeded to tell him what happened step by step, ending
with my arms swaying with a fictitious smile. Sometimes I got carried away
telling a story. My father used to laugh at my body language. He said I really
knew how to get into it.

Harry sat still,
absorbing everything I’d just told him. His calm eyes held steady on me.

“Okay, look.
Before I tell you who I am or anything else about me, I need to know who you
are,” I told him. “Do you remember who you are?”

He pondered my
question, nodded, and then answered, “My name is Aaron, Aaron Nichols.”

Finally I had a
name
. Goodbye Harry, hello Aaron
.

“Okay, Aaron, my
name is Lennox,” I said, holding my hand out to shake his. I’d considered
giving him my last name but didn’t feel comfortable enough handing out that
piece of info yet. Of course, if he snooped around enough, he’d find out easily
enough. “If we were actually meeting for the first time, then we might as well
make it formal.”

His hand slowly
reached out to touch mine. The feeling was odd. Something was off, but I
couldn’t put my finger on it. “Are you warm enough in those sweatpants and
t-shirt or do you need a sweatshirt? You could probably use some socks too,
yeah?” I rambled as I got up to search through the drawers.

A huff of breath
that resembled a chuckle muffled from Aaron. “I’m fine. I’m comfortable, but
thank you anyway.” I took that as a nice way to tell me I was wasting my time.

Sitting back down
on the edge of the bed, I was ready to dig in to find out who this mysterious
dude was. “So Aaron, how old are you and where do you live?”

“I’m… um… I’m
twenty nine.”

He hesitated too
much for my liking. Was he lying about his age and if so, why? After everything
I’d done for him, he wasn’t going to sit face-to-face with me and tell me a
bold face lie about something as stupid as his age.

“Are you sure
you’re twenty nine? You don’t sound too sure of yourself.”

“Yeah,” he
breathed, his eyes lost in a different place. “Sorry, I’m just trying to grasp
everything in front of me right now. I feel out of sorts.”

“I’m sure you do.
You were in a lot of pain the past couple of days. I honestly thought you were
going to die. It was really difficult for me to not take you to the hospital.
Why were you so persistent on not going?”

He sucked in a
deep breath through his nostrils. “Hospitals and I don’t get along well. If I
can avoid them, I will, no matter what the costs might be.”

This man was a
bigger freak than I’d thought. Nobody in their right mind would risk their life
all because they were scared of the hospital. Either something tragic happened
to him once while there or he had a bigger secret he was hiding.

“Well, Aaron, do
you have any family or friends or anyone else I could call to let them know
you’re okay? I’m sure someone is worried about you.”

He shook his head.
“No, I don’t have any family and I’m new in town so I’ve not had the
opportunity to become acquainted with the townsfolk.” So, if he was new in town
then the thought of him being involved in a bad drug deal was kind of out of
the question now.

“So, again, where
do you live?” I asked as I examined a piece of newly chipped nail polish. Damn,
that must’ve happened while shuffling him around everywhere.

His head dropped
and his shoulders slumped over. This was the moment he was going to give me
some sob story about being homeless, and probably try to play on my pity.
Sorry
bud, not happening
. He slightly lifted his head and cocked his head up to
look at me from one eye. “Right now, here. Before coming here… a little bit of
everywhere. I’m kind of what you’d call a world traveler.”

“Hmm…interesting,”
I said, nodding. Well he surely called my bluff. He might not have blatantly
said he was homeless but I was pretty sure that was what he meant.

I couldn’t stop
there. I had to keep pushing forward. “Do you know why those guys jumped you?
Or do you know any of them? I could take you to the police station to file a
report,” I offered.

He shook his head.
“No. Still nothing.”

I had a strange
feeling he wasn’t being completely honest with me, but there was no proof to
show it. The best I could do was stay on him; question him every day until he
finally broke.

 My lips twisted
up to the side while I thought about where I wanted our conversation to go
next. “O—kay,” I drew out, “After everything you’ve gone through, I’m sure a
nice hot bath would help to make you feel better. It will also give your
muscles the chance to loosen up and relax. I think it’s safe to say your body
is probably covered in bruises. You know where the bathroom is, and everything
you need should already be in there. I’ll also get you another clean shirt and
sweatpants. Once you’re out, you can tell me more about who you are,” I said,
faking a smile.

“I don’t know if I
can remember enough to share with you,” he said.

“Well, just try
and we’ll go from there. But for now, you have to clean up. I can’t allow you
to lounge around my house any longer in the condition you’re in.”

His eyes stared at
me for a quick moment, then nodded and stood up slowly. He was careful not to
move too sudden, and he kept his body hunched over just the slightest.

“I’ll have some
breakfast for you when you get out,” I told him as he walked into the bathroom.

An hour later, I
heard the bathroom door open.
Finally.
I was starting to worry that he’d
fallen asleep and drowned in my bathtub. Wouldn’t that had been a pile of shit,
going through the trouble to save his damn life only for him to die in my tub
two days later?

During that hour,
I’d cooked eggs and bacon, and had sourdough toast on the side. Without
waiting, I ate while it was still warm and placed the rest of it in the
microwave. When he emerged from the bathroom, a swarm of magnolias swirled out
the door and dispersed throughout the house. “You smell nice,” I said, as I
turned around to face him, not expecting to find a pleasantly groomed man
standing before me. His face was tanned and smooth, a far cry from the layers
of dirt previously caked on. I would’ve thought for sure it would be weathered
and beaten. His long, sandy brown, not dirty blond hair was pulled back into a
braid. The matted up mess I’d thought to be dreads were just the opposite. They
were from weeks of not bathing. A chill ran up my spine from the thoughts of what
kind of bugs could’ve been living in his head, and what remnants were thriving
in my porcelain tub. The repulsive beard was still intact, but it was no longer
full of dried blood and food.

My compliment took
me by surprise, and apparently it did him too. His green eyes widened, then
easily relaxed as a crooked smile pulled to the side of his mouth. 

“Do you feel
better?”

He ran his hands
over his face then lightly grabbed his beard as his hand gently slid down the
length. “God, yes. So much better. I forgot how great it feels to be clean,” he
admitted, continuing to graze his fingers through his beard. I wasn’t one to
enjoy a man with a beard. A five o’clock shadow was more my style, but he wore
it well. It gave him some sort of sex appeal. Maybe it was the way he stroked
it. I could vision him stroking something else.
God, I so need to get laid.

He stopped
stroking his beard when he saw me watching him. “Thank you.”

Hopefully, he was
thanking me for the bath and not my gawking while thinking dirty thoughts. I
shrugged, “Not a problem at all.” If he only knew I was more appreciative of
his bath than he was. “So, how bad are the injuries?” I asked in order to deter
my attention away from his bruised hand stroking his beard again.

He dropped his
hand from his face and I sighed with relief. “I’d say I definitely broke at
least two ribs, and there are bruises all along my abdomen, side and back. I
have several lacerations on my knees and shin. They’ve scabbed up nicely
though. Nothing I’ve not dealt with before,” he said nonchalantly.

“Do you need any
ointment or bandages?”

“No, I’ll be fine.
Just one of those things you have to allow to heal on its own.”

It surprised me
how we were able to talk comfortably to one another being the strangers we
were. I didn’t talk this much to anyone except my father and on occasion,
Victoria. The contentment I found with Aaron should be alarming but, oddly I
found it soothing. Most of the time people pissed me off, and I hated their
company, but I didn’t feel that with him. “I made bacon and eggs. Would you
like some?” I asked, pointing my thumb toward the kitchen.

Normally I
couldn’t make out his facial expressions from the hair on his face, but this
time a hint of teeth told me he was actually smiling. “Yes, that would be greatly
appreciated. Thank you.” I guess bacon and eggs were a step up from the tomato
soup, and probably anything he’d eaten in who knew how long.

His smile was
contagious and I found myself doing the same thing. “I also have sourdough
bread if you’d like some toasted with butter.”

He nodded, “No,
thank you.”

Aaron sat down at
the bar while I warmed the remaining food in the microwave. “So, how long have
you been in Gainesville?” I asked while taking out orange juice and milk from
the fridge. I held each one up allowing him to pick. He pointed at the milk, so
I put the juice back.

“Just a few days.
I grew up here, but moved away several years ago.”

“Coffee?”

He nodded.

“Oh, did you go
off to college or did a job take you away?” From his appearance alone, I knew
he’d never stepped foot on a college campus, but I was throwing questions left
and right in an attempt to get him to fulfill my curiosity.

With a mournful
chuckle, he replied, “No, I wish. It was more of an opportunity to start over.
Things weren’t going well here. A fresh new start was needed so I decided to
leave.”

There was
something about his words I found unsettling. I was usually good at reading
people and knowing when they were feeding me a line of bullshit. Some of his
story might’ve been legit, but the other part I wasn’t buying.

When I turned back
around, he had already gobbled up his breakfast before his coffee finished
brewing. The way he inhaled his food told me I was right about him not eating
in possibly days. “I can make more if you’d like. The bacon is actually turkey
bacon. I prefer the ready to eat kind rather than the fattening stuff that
shrinks up to hardly anything after it has been fried to death,” I said,
handing him his fresh cup of coffee. I wasn’t sure if he preferred cream or
sugar, so I placed both in front of him in case. Nonchalantly, I watched him as
he picked up the mug to take a sip. Steam swirled around his face as his lips
pressed against the ceramic cup. I imagined what my reaction would be to him if
I’d met him in different circumstances. There was no lying about it; he was
attractive in an unusual way. Unusual for me anyway. He wasn’t exactly my type,
but there was this strange pull I had toward him. He carried this mysterious
aura around him. He interested me.  

“Do you want to
ask me something else?” he asked, breaking my train of thought.

My brows stitched
together in confusion. “No, why do you ask?” Actually, I had many other
questions for him but I wasn’t prepared.

He sat his cup
down, but didn’t remove his hands from the warmth. “You were looking at me like
you had something hanging on the tip of your tongue.”

Oh shit! I’m so
busted.

As he wiped the
hair around his mouth with a napkin, a wave of nausea hit me when a small piece
of egg crumbled further into his beard.

“You…um…,” a dry
heave hit me, “some…egg,” another heave, “in your…beard,” I heaved again,
pointing to his face. I ran to the bathroom and doubled over the sink as my
stomach wretched again. My mouth flooded with saliva. Spitting repeatedly in
the sink, my tummy started to settle as I focused on the new boots I’d
purchased the other day.

Luckily, I was
able to keep my breakfast down. There was no question about it, his beard was
going to have to go. The thoughts of pubic hair on a face with food in it
nearly sent me to the sink again.

A knock came at
the door. “Lennox, are you okay?” His voice was soft with concern.

The water rinsed
away the remnants of my near miss. “Yeah, I think I’ll survive. Sorry to inform
you but, if you’re planning on staying here until your wounds heal, that beard
is going to have to go,” I instructed from the other side of the door. “You
don’t have to shave it completely, but it has to be cleaned up.” There were two
benefits from my ultimatum: one, I would be able to keep my food down; the
other, I would finally get to see the man hidden behind that hairy mask.