The Opportunist

Chapter Fourteen



The Present





I left. Leah could have him, but I didn’t want to be around when she did. I didn‘t take much; a couple of books and photo albums that belonged to my mother. Everything else had been destroyed. I stuffed everything into the car along with Pickles and hit the gas. I’d left my box of Mr. X memento’s laying in the center of my scarred coffee table, along with the envelope of pictures that Leah had stolen. She had stuffed five one hundred dollar bills into the envelope as well...I left those too. If I was going to do this—it had to be done. No more toting around trinkets that had the power to turn my heart into ground beef.

Before I’d walked out the front door for good, I’d held the penny, face up in my palm. Damn penny. Damn Caleb. I closed my fingers and squeezed as hard as I could, until my fist turned white and I was sure that the words, “Good for one free shot of affection—A KISS!” would be stamped on my skin. Then I’d opened my hand and let the penny drop to the carpet. I slipped a goodbye note underneath Rosalie’s door, in which I lied about a job in California, and promised to write to her as soon as I was settled. I dropped my keys off at the leasing office and I drove. I felt an emotional weight lift from my shoulders when my car eased onto I—95, and I felt free when I crossed over the state line into Georgia, but I felt absolute relief when Cammie threw her arms around me.

“Welcome to Texas, best friend,” she smiled kissing me on the cheek. “Let’s begin your new life.”





The Past





Wind battered angrily against the car, howling her protests at not being let in. Outside, the cracked glass of the windshield gathered the dancing snowflakes from the air, spreading a blanket of white across the red tinged spider web. Two passengers sat slumped and bleeding in the front seats, neither was conscious and the driver was soaked in his own blood. No ambulance had been called, as the car had yet to be spotted in the snowstorm. The passenger woke moaning and clutching his head. When he pulled his hand away there was blood smeared on his finger-tips.

He looked around at the dark interior of the car wondering where he was and who the bleeding man beside him could be. He felt odd, like all of his organs were straining inside of his body. Feeling along the door, he grabbed hold of the latch, but it wouldn’t budge. Then he realized the obvious, something his cloudy mind hadn’t registered at first. The car was crushed to half of its original size. He released his seatbelt and felt around his pockets for a phone, after finding it, he hit 911. When the female operator answered he spoke, not recognizing his own voice.

“There’s been an accident. I don’t know where we are,” or who I am he wanted to add, but didn’t.

He set the phone next to him and held his head. A police car would be sent once they tracked the signal. He waited, shivering whether from the shock or the cold, he didn’t know. He tried not to look at the body next to him. Was it a friend? His father? His brother?

He knew help had arrived when out of the corner of his eye he saw the reflection of the cruiser lights dancing on the windows. Voices called and doors slammed. Soon there were people reaching in and pulling him out of the car.

“We have to use the Jaws of Life,” he heard a fireman say. Someone was shining a light in his eyes; another was wrapping him in an orange fleece. They loaded him onto a stretcher as the snow landed on his face. A voice that sounded far away asked him what his name was. He shook his head wondering if he should make one up. Josh was a good name, he could have said Josh, but he didn’t. He wondered if the man next to him was alive and then he heard the sirens of another ambulance and the skidding of wheels on gravel as it pulled away sirens screaming. He lay back against the flat pillow and tried hard to remember…..and then he did. Things good and bad came seeping back into his brain like warm water through a cracked block of ice. He flinched as he remembered things that he’d rather forget.

The EMT asked him if he was all right. He shook his head yes, though on the inside where it counted, where wounds couldn’t be salved and sewn, he wasn’t. He rubbed his head, knuckles against temples and wished that he couldn’t remember. How easy it would be if his mind had been wiped clean like an eraser board. No trace of the happy or miserable, just a clean fresh start. The ambulance came to a smooth stop and the twin doors were opened by a set of gloved hands. He allowed himself to be pushed and pulled and prodded through the emergency room doors until he lay in a stark white room waiting for an MRI. He remained silent. A doctor entered the room where he waited for his results. He was an Indian man with a kind face. He wore a wedding band on his ring finger with three rubies embedded in the gold. His name tag read Dr. Sunji Puni. He wondered if Dr. Puni was happy and if those three red stones symbolized his children. He wanted to ask, but still he said nothing. The doctor in his accented voice spoke.

“You have a serious concussion. I want to run some more tests on you to be certain that there is no extensive damage to your brain. The EMTs informed me that you were having some confusion as to who you are.” The patient said nothing, though he stared at the flat white ceiling as if it were a great work of art.

“Can you tell me your name?” Still, he said nothing, his eyes moving back and forth, back and forth.

“Sir? Do you know who you are?” the doctor’s voice was concerned now, having hit an octave higher than before. I know, I know! His mind screamed. The patient turned his head until he was looking into heavily lined black eyes. He’d made his decision right then and there. There would be a lot of trouble over what he was about to do, but he didn’t care. He had to find her.

“No,” said Caleb Drake. “I don’t remember anything at all.”





One Year Gone





Two Years Gone





Three Years....





Four