Chapter 6

You don't have to tell me it was a really bad idea to let a total stranger into my car for a two-hour drive back to Aurora. I knew that as I was doing it. But he clearly needed psychiatric help, based on the story he'd told me, and I didn't want to drop him off at the local hospital and hope for the best.

But it wasn't entirely altruistic. I wanted someone to tell me he had schizophrenia, or some other illness that meant it was all a delusion and I hadn't dated a guy who had a hobby of cutting up corpses and stitching them back together. Victor and I were done, either way, but I didn't want to believe my judgment about men was quite that bad.

I gave him a spare mask and we rode quietly, with the windows down for ventilation. I kept stealing glances over, to see what he was doing, which was mostly alternating between staring at the scenery flying by and trying to look at me without turning his head.

We stopped for dinner just east of Breckenridge. I got out and started to walk toward a sandwich place, then noticed he wasn't following me. I went back to the car.

"You coming?" He shook his head. "Why not?"

"People," he said quietly.

"People? You're scared of people?" He nodded. "Why?"

"People hate me," he said. "Except you. You're scared. But you don't try to hurt me."

"Why would I hurt you?"

"I don't know."

I probably could have gone in and gotten sandwiches, but it felt strangely like leaving a child alone in the car. I detoured to a drive-thru. He had no idea what he wanted, so I ordered him a hamburger while I soothed my nerves with fried chicken strips.

"This is good," he said. "I've never had one of these." I sincerely doubted that, but I didn't feel like having an argument about all the things he said he couldn't remember. "Thank you for bringing me here."

"To McDonald's?"

"Here." He gestured toward the mountains towering over the outlet stores, the chain restaurants and the highway. "It's beautiful."

Of course it is, but I wasn't quite in the mood to contemplate nature. I put my mask back on and rubbed my temples.

"I'm sorry," he said. "If you just tell Victor to do it, I'll go away."

I took a deep breath. "You want me to tell Victor to make you a girlfriend out of corpses."

"Yes. It won't take long."

"And this corpse-lady has to be your girlfriend, whether she wants to or not. No choice. That seem fair to you?" He looked away. "God damn it, women don't exist just to serve men's needs."

"Victor didn't ask me if I wanted to live alone forever. That's not fair either."

The anger leached out of me. "No, I guess that wouldn't be fair." I sighed. "It's Victor I want to yell at, not you."

He nodded. We didn't say anything more until we got to Aurora, when I had to coax him out of the car and into the emergency room.

"These people are doctors too," I said. "They're not going to hurt you." He looked uncertain. "You want me to help you. I want that too. But I need you to trust me."

How many times did I repeat that mantra that night? God, if he'd done a shot every time I said that, he would have died. It took all the restraint I had not to lose my temper while getting them to assign him a bed on the psych ward. Most of the people on that ward are being held there against their will, because they're a danger to themselves or others. He clearly wasn't dangerous, and the triage doctor was going to send him packing until I talked him into telling the whole story again. That got the doctor's attention.

Then I had to persuade him it was safe to stay in this strange place. "They have to run some tests and learn more about you before we can help you," I said.

"They can fix me?" He looked like he didn't dare hope.

"They'll try to help. That's what doctors do."

"Not Victor."

"No, not Victor. But he's not a good doctor." He nodded. I started to get up to go, but he grabbed my wrist.

"You'll come back, won't you? If I trust you, you'll come back?"

I hadn't planned on seeing him again. I'm a neurologist, not a psychiatrist, and I felt I'd done enough to clean up whatever mess my soon-to-be ex-boyfriend had created. But even though he was a full-grown man, and an unsettlingly ugly one, something about him reminded me of a kid hoping this next foster family will be the one that lasts. I patted his hand. "Yes, I'll come back and check on you. But now, you need to get changed and rest."

I could have walked out of that room, left it to the experts and never looked back. But I couldn't, not really. I guess that's the difference between Victor and me.