Ray Gorham - 77 Days in September

“Let me help you to the bathroom,” Rose offered when he finished the drink. ”We need to be sure to get you in there regular the next couple of days. Your body has a lot of toxins in it that it needs to flush out.” She stood and reached down to help lift Kyle. Kyle grabbed her hand and, bracing with his other hand against the wall, struggled to his feet. His legs were strong enough to support his weight, but were stiff and sore and his balance was off, so he held her shoulder as they shuffled through the house to the bathroom.

Rose helped him to the toilet, then excused herself when she was sure he wouldn’t topple over. Kyle sat there, the haze that shrouded his mind continuing to clear like a fog gradually burning off with the morning sun. The memory of struggling across a field came to him, but he still couldn’t place himself in the house.

Pulling himself back to his feet, Kyle paused in front of the mirror, curious to see his reflection. He held onto the countertop, steadying himself in his weakened state, and was astounded by his changed appearance. Returning his gaze was a frail, underwear-clad man with a bushy beard and cheeks that were weathered and red. His dark, tired eyes scanned from side to side across his body, taking in the skinny, discolored arms and legs that were more white than pink, leaving him dismayed by his withered physique.

He turned from the mirror, let himself out of the bathroom, and carefully made his way back down the hall.

Rose was arranging blankets on the couch and turned when Kyle entered the room. “You going to make it okay?”

Kyle nodded.

“I’m going to get you situated here on the couch. It’ll be more comfortable than the floor. Tomorrow I’ll get you a bed, but this room is warmer with the stove.”

Kyle crossed the room, step by tender step, till he made it to his new bed. He lay back on the pillows Rose had piled at one end and pulled the blankets over himself. Rose refilled his mug and placed it on a table she’d pulled up by the end of the couch. “Here’s some more honey water. You need to drink a lot of this. Your body needs calories to burn to get your temperature back up. Seeing as I can’t get you to a hospital, this is the best I could come up with.”

Kyle pulled up into a semi-reclined position and took a long drink. His head was clearing, but he still felt foggy. He was grateful that the headache that had plagued him earlier had eased to a dull ache. He set the cup down and looked at Rose. “Thank you,” he said.

She smiled at him. “It’s nice to hear your voice. You’re welcome.”

Kyle leaned back into the pillows, feeling exhausted. “I’m Kyle.”

“Nice to meet you, Kyle. I’m Rose.”

Kyle smiled at Rose in place of a handshake. “How’d I get here?”

“That’s what I want to know,” she answered. “I found you in my front yard. Beyond that, I can’t say.” Kyle looked confused, and she could tell he was trying to come up with an answer to the question she had implied. “Listen, Kyle. Let’s get acquainted tomorrow. Today you just need to rest. You were pretty far gone when I found you, so just take it easy, drink lots of that honey water, and hit the bathroom every couple of hours. If you need anything else, just ask. Okay?”

“Are you a doctor?”

She laughed. “No, I’m a realtor, or at least I was. But I raised two boys in the Wyoming mountains who loved to be outside, and I learned to be prepared for a lot of different situations. I never had to treat my boys, but I guess it worked out well for you.”

Kyle nodded, the fatigue growing stronger, his eyelids heavier. Even as Rose spoke, he let his eyes fall shut and was soon fast asleep. He slept most of the day and into the night, waking occasionally, drinking his honey water, and wearing out a path to the bathroom. Once when he woke up he found sweatpants and a t-shirt placed on the table beside him. A large German Shepherd kept guard on the floor of the living room throughout the night, his head perking up to watch Kyle every time he got up from the couch, but he never barked.

Saturday, October 22 nd

Sometime early the next morning, Kyle awoke feeling rested and relatively good. He sat up, emptied his mug and, for the first time, looked around the room without the mental fog that had plagued him the day before. The pale moonlight provided adequate light for him to see a few more details of Rose’s house, at least enough to tell that her home was decorated with a definite horse theme: horse pictures, figurines, a few trophies on a shelf over the woodstove, and a pair of spurs over the sliding door to the back yard. Even the furniture had a western feel to it, although it was too dark to make out the colors. He walked over to the window and peered outside. Seeing the snow brought back memories of the day before, and flashes of struggling towards the house came back to him. Shivering, he returned to his bed on the couch and lay down, pulling the warm blankets over him.

He was wide-awake when Rose walked into the living room an hour after the sun came up. “Good morning,” Kyle said cheerfully.

Rose started a bit, then returned his greeting with a smile. “Good morning. Looks like you’re feeling better.”

He nodded. “I feel worlds better. It’s amazing what thirty hours of sleep will do. My arms and legs still ache, but the rest of me feels remarkably good.”

“You were in rough shape when you got here. I’m surprised you’re doing as well as you are.”

Kyle looked at Rose for the first time with a clear head. She had sandy-blonde hair, with a bit of natural curl to it that was pulled back in a loose ponytail. A slender nose and prominent cheekbones adorned a face that was clear and tan. Her lips were a little on the thin side, and when she flashed her farm-girl smile, they revealed teeth that were a little too straight and a little too white. As to her age, Kyle estimated that Rose was in her early forties, but knew he could be off by five years either way.

She wore a thick, white robe tied snuggly at her waist that seemed to hide a slender body with feminine curves. She appeared confident, not at all intimidated at having a strange man in her home. He watched as she walked over to the woodstove and tossed in some wood.

“I bet you’re hungry,” she said, turning back to Kyle.

Kyle nodded. “I am. I can’t remember the last time I ate.”

Soon Kyle was sitting at the kitchen table, eagerly feasting on a plate of scrambled eggs. “This is delicious,” he said, wiping food from his beard when he was done. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

Rose took his empty plate to the sink, then sat down across from him at the table. “You don’t need to thank me, Kyle, but I would like to know who you are. I’ve been pretty curious this last day and a half.”

Kyle cleared his throat. “Well, to make a long story short, I’m Kyle Tait, from Deer Creek, Montana. It’s a community just a little east of Missoula. I was in Houston for work on September 2 nd, and I’m in the process of going back home. The snowstorm caught me off-guard, and somehow I ended up here. That’s it in a nutshell.”

“You’ve walked here from Houston?” Rose asked, her eyes wide in disbelief.

Kyle nodded. “Well, I guess not from Houston, but from San Angelo. It’s a little closer.”

“Wow, that’s amazing. I’ve met a few people heading in different directions, but no one from that far away. Most were just trying to get across the state or to Montana or Colorado. How many miles have you covered?”

“By my calculations, I’d say I’m right around a thousand miles, with close to six hundred to go.”

“What’s in Deer Creek?”

“My wife, Jennifer, and our three kids. What about you, Rose. Are you here alone?”