Chapter 10

In the car, on the way out to Malibu, Mark found himself feeling a bit nervous about his return home. It wasn't that he didn't want to be 'home' – it was just that he wasn't sure what to expect there. Would there be any sense of familiarity? Or would 'home' be yet another strange, emotionally empty place? Would he be able to fend for himself there? Did he even know how to cook himself anything or where to go to get groceries or order out? His life suddenly seemed full of such mundane questions causing a disproportionate degree of concern. While he was sure Steve wasn't going to just drop him there and leave – it was both comforting and amazing how sure he was of that – his son was going to have to go back to his own home some time. Steve had already, Mark felt, spent an inordinate amount of time waiting on him; Mark didn't want to be any more of a burden than he could possibly help. He didn't even want to verbalize any of these questions for fear that Steve would feel compelled to stay even longer. One step at a time, he told himself. Wait and see what happens when we get there – there's no point in anticipating trouble. He found himself hoping that this state of constant underlying anxiety was due to the current extraordinary circumstances and not a part of his normal personality.

Steve noticed that his father seemed subdued during the ride home, and wondered if it was a result of the incident with the wheelchair or if there was something else causing it. It broke his heart to see his father this way and to think of the physical and emotional abuse to which he had been subjected. He didn't even know what to do to help him. It was taking all his self control at this point to contain the rage that was threatening to overwhelm him. He knew that, sometime soon, he was going to have to find an outlet for that anger – take a run, go to the gym, do something physical to let off steam before he erupted in an entirely inappropriate manner – like going down to the jail and beating Sanders to a pulp. Maybe going to the gym was a good idea; he could pretend the punching bag was Sanders and beat the stuffing out of it.

Eventually, they arrived at the beach house, and Steve pulled the car into the driveway, saying lightly, "Here we are." He helped his father out and walked with him to the door. As they entered the house, he watched Mark look around, and couldn't help hoping to see some sign of familiarity. But Mark looked around with the air of a man seeing the place for the first time. Steve stifled a sigh and showed his father into his study.

Mark gazed around the study, observing a pleasant, comfortable room, obviously geared to the tastes and interests of its owner. He noticed the proliferation of musical instruments – a grand piano, a drum set, a clarinet, along with an expensive-looking stereo set. Apparently he liked music. He wondered if he actually played all those instruments. He walked out through the glass doors onto the deck and stood looking out over the beach. Steve came out to stand beside him, and for a split second, Mark thought he had a flash of memory, but it was gone before he could nail it down. He looked over to see Steve watching him.

"It's a lovely view," he said. Steve just nodded. Mark sighed.

"You look tired, Dad," Steve observed. "Why don't you get cleaned up and rest for a bit?"

"That's a good idea," Mark agreed. "You should do the same."

Steve nodded. "I'll go downstairs and grab a quick shower. Then we can get a bite to eat and you can get some sleep."

"Steve, why don't you go on home for a while," Mark suggested, seeing the weariness in his son's face. "You could use a break from all this."

Steve looked at him in surprise, and then realized that he had never actually mentioned their shared living arrangements. He had told Mark about his house on the beach, but they had never specifically discussed Steve's residence. He smiled at his father.

"I am home, Dad," he told him. "I live in an apartment downstairs."

Mark stared at him, at a loss for words. This had to be a father's dream. Not only did he apparently get to work with this son, they actually lived together? He might be short on memories, but somehow he knew this wasn't exactly the norm. Unless he was infirm enough that Steve felt he needed someone to live with him? But nothing he'd heard so far suggested that was the case. In fact, if he was still practicing medicine and consulting for the police – not to mention roller skating around the hospital – it was highly unlikely that he required that kind of care. Whatever the reasons, he found he derived a rush of pleasure from the idea that Steve and he shared the house – a pleasure totally independent of the immediate relief of not being left alone just yet.

Watching his father's reaction to his announcement, Steve saw surprise and puzzlement reflected briefly in his face, to be replaced by what looked like pleased acceptance. It was nice to know that, even if Mark didn't remember him, he liked the idea of having him around. They had always been so close, he had never had to question how much he meant to his father or how much Mark liked having him there. It was really weird to wonder suddenly just what his father thought of him now that he was meeting him as a stranger.

"Sounds like a nice arrangement," Mark commented, interrupting his son's reverie.

"We like it," Steve replied simply. He saw the glimmer of a smile on his father's face; then Mark cast a glance around and back to his son.

"So, where do I go to clean up?" he asked.

With a start, Steve remembered that his father didn't even know where his own room was. He thought he detected a return of the earlier depression in Mark's demeanor, and couldn't wonder at it. He could tell his father was finding it both frustrating and embarrassing to have to constantly ask for help or information about the smallest details of his life. He tried to keep his own attitude matter-of-fact as he showed his father to his room, casually grabbing him a towel from the linen closet and placing it in the master bathroom for him, hoping to spare him the necessity of having to ask about that as well. He briefly considered and rejected the idea of grabbing him some clothes. The closet and dresser were perfectly obvious, and if Mark didn't remember what he had, he had all the time in the world to look through his things and pick what he wanted. The more his father was able to do for himself, he thought, the better he would feel.

Having done what he could to get Mark settled, Steve went down to his apartment to perform his own ablutions. As he stood in the shower, the steaming water coursing down his body, he felt himself relaxing for the first time. Unfortunately, that allowed the emotional upheaval of the last 24 hours to catch up with him. After a week of intense anxiety, just as he had been close to despairing that his father was indeed dead and gone forever, he had unexpectedly found him. But how different that reunion was from anything he had foreseen! That his father hadn't known him had hurt more than he would have imagined. The fact that Mark didn't even know himself only added to Steve's personal pain the additional anguish of sharing his father's pain. And then had come the revelations of the physical and mental abuse Mark had experienced, and his drug-induced emotional instability. In spite of feeling emotionally battered himself, Steve had had to remain calm and strong to support his father. Alone and unguarded now, the emotional backwash flooded over him, leaving him emotionally and physically drained.

Steve sat on the edge of his bed after the shower, trying to pull himself together. He couldn't afford to fall apart now – his father still needed him. Mark was obviously struggling to cope with the strangeness of this suddenly blank and frustrating remnant of his life. So many times, Steve reflected, Mark had provided emotional strength, support, and comfort to his son through difficult times – when Steve had returned from Vietnam, the too-frequent occasions when a romance had gone tragically wrong, when the pressures of his job took too great an emotional toll. Now it was his turn to be the strong one and provide what comfort he could.

He reminded himself that things could have been so much worse. His father was alive and home, with no permanent physical injuries. The amnesia was painful for them both, and the emotional scars of Mark's experiences at the Exeter Institute would need time to heal, but heal he would. Even with his lack of memory, he had already shown that his personality remained essentially intact. In fact, one of the main reasons Steve wanted to hide his own mental and physical fatigue was that he didn't want to add to his father's worries – and Mark had already shown that he was worried about how his son was dealing with all this. Steve reflected wryly that Mark might not consciously remember that he was Steve's father, but he still acted like a dad.