Джордан Шор - The Search

George Stanton just realized why he was single.

The gentle but firm tap on his shoulder reminded him of Derrick, the only man he’d ever lived with. Whenever Derrick got upset, he would raise his voice, as one could expect from any person who’s upset. But even though, Derrick never laid a hand on him, or even attempted to do so, George still felt vulnerable, every time they had a disagreement; his instincts told him to run away. And eventually, he did run away. He’d broken it off with Derrick because living with him didn’t feel right. Living with a person who was physically superior to himself didn’t feel good —which more or less ruled out every man on the planet.

George had come to realize the reason he was single wasn’t because he was afraid of getting his feelings hurt, as he’d convinced himself so many times. He was single because he was literally afraid of men hurting him.

Tuesday afternoon

He felt nervous as he entered the hospital; he felt he was about to stand trial.

“My name is Jack Green,” he said. “I’m here to see Julie Morrison.”

The female receptionist typed and then frowned at the screen.

“There’s no patient here by that name.”

“Actually, I’m not certain her last name is Morrison,” he said. “Can you please check if there’s a patient by the name of Julie.”

Jack wondered if George Stanton had checked the entire list of passengers, and if there perhaps had been more than one passenger named Julie. He thought the receptionist looked suspiciously at him, and he noticed her name tag said Linda.

“Are you a relative or a friend of the family?” Linda asked him.

“I’m the guy who brought her in,” he responded. “I carried her through the woods after the plane went down.”

“Oh, her.” Linda’s face lit up. “She checked out a few hours ago. I called her a taxi myself.”

Jack felt both surprised and relieved to learn Julie had checked out of the hospital.

“So, she’s, all right?”

“She seemed fine to me,” Linda said. “I mean, she was on crutches, but besides that, she seemed fine.”

Linda the receptionist looked Jack up and down while biting her lower lip.

“It was a good thing you did, helping her out like that.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know where she was going?”

“To the airport.”

The words felt hurtful. They made him feel rejected and abandoned. Why would Julie leave without saying goodbye? After all they’d been through. And now she’d left with not even a farewell? But on the other hand, Julie didn’t know how to contact him. It wasn’t as though he had a phone. And understandably, she must have been eager to get home to her son.

“So, are you on your way to the airport yourself? Or are you planning to stay in town for a while?” Linda asked him, and took a substantial chunk of her lower lip.

Jack leaned up against the reception desk.

“There was another woman who was brought in at the same time as Julie. I think her name is Melinda ... Nordstrom, I think,” he said in, a low voice. “She has red hair and a very pale complexion. Do you know, if she’s all right?”

“I heard she was transferred to the psychiatric ward.”

Jack felt his chest tighten.

“What, they strapped her to a bed?”

His voice was harsher, and Linda the receptionist no longer looked at him with eyes of delight. On the contrary, she appeared frightened and lost for words. For the past twenty years, Jack had tried his best to be as intimidating as possible. Now, he struggled to do the opposite, and not scare people.

“Sorry,” he said, and noticed the wary look from the doctor in the background. “I’ll be leaving now. Thank you for your help, Linda.”

Before Jack left the room, he turned around to see if the receptionist had recovered from the harsh tone in his voice. He saw the doctor standing next to her, and as the doctor whispered in her ear, Linda’s jaw dropped and her face had a look of fear and contempt. Jack assumed the doctor had told the receptionist the same thing the police had told Julie, and he imagined Julie had the same expression on her face when she’d discovered the truth of who he really was.

He was a murderer, and a liar. He wasn’t a soldier; he was a convict. He felt convinced he’d never hear from Julie ever again, and any attempt to contact her would only result in another interrogation, or possibly a restraining order.

At least I got her home to her boy , he comforted himself.

On his way out of the hospital, he noticed the exit sign, and added a sixth word to his French vocabulary.

Jack couldn’t help noticing his reflection in the glass door as he exited the building, and the enormous scar on his neck.

As Jack Green walked down the road, he felt the wind against the tender skin of his conspicuous scar, and he felt the sharp pain caused by the imaginary knife frantically stabbing his neck.

That excruciating pain.

After wandering around town for an hour, he came to realize he had nowhere to go. He was at a dead end. He’d violated his parole, and he was destined to serve the remaining seven years of his sentence. But this time, prison would break him for certain. Julie would never come to visit him and neither would anyone else. And whatever money he had coming his way would be paid to the family members of his former cellmate, the man he’d killed in battle. He’d made his decision prior to his flight to Anchorage. However, the cave from his childhood was now out of his reach. The hotel room in Yellowknife would have to be his final destination and the end of his journey.

Jack used the card to open the door, thereby granting him access to his hotel room, and as he did, he puzzled over the fact that a “card” could be used to open a door.

He placed the bucket containing ice and a chilled champagne bottle on the table, along with the salt shaker, which he’d taken from the hotel restaurant while he waited for the champagne.

Then, he went to the bathroom and removed his bloody shirt and pants from the bathtub before he turned on the hot water. He glanced at his pants on the bathroom floor, and especially at the bulk in the front pants pocket. Then he got a towel from the rack before he left the bathroom. Jack emptied the bucket with ice on the towel and wrapped his left forearm tight; the cold ice burning his skin.

A few minutes later, he returned to the bathroom. He turned off the water. Steam rose from the hot water in the tub. He used his right foot to open the toilet lid—just as he’d done for the past twenty years.

He felt dizzy as he began to urinate, and he accidentally peed on the floor.

On his way out of the bathroom, Jack glanced once more at his bloody pants lying on the floor. He filled a glass of champagne, and then added a substantial amount of salt to the sweet beverage. His face twisted as he swallowed the salty liquid he’d created. Then, he repeated the process until the champagne bottle was empty. He decided to leave a note to the person who had to clean the room. As he wrote, he felt overwhelmed by shame and remorse.

Jack placed the note on the floor in front of the bathroom door, and as he stared at the note, he asked himself why he used the word “lady.” Was it because Julie had described herself as a “cleaning lady,” was that why he wrote it? Was that an accurate description of Julie’s occupation?

Cleaning lady!

Call the cops!

Don’t open the door!

Jack Green worked methodically. He never stopped to think or to reflect on what he was about to do. He picked up his pants from the bathroom floor and took out the bar of soap with two razor blades attached to it. He didn’t lock the bathroom door. He merely closed it. The skin on his forearm wasn’t burning any more. The skin, rather, was entirely numb. Without hesitation, Jack climbed into the bathtub still wearing his clothes.