Page 56 of Plentywood
“I’m sorry, Hunt. I guess what I mean is, how’d you survive it? Besides the notes.”
He tilted his head and looked at me carefully. Almost as if he didn’t trust me enough to answer or trust my reason for asking. “No one has ever asked me how,” he replied. “That sounds so weird now that you’ve asked.”
“I wouldn’t have been able to,” I confessed.
“I’m not sure I have, to tell you the truth,” he revealed.
I was reluctant to reveal anyrealtruths about myself, but Hunt had been so forthcoming and honest. I wanted to expose something to show I was interested in his story. In him.
“I’ve always wished to have a love like yours,” I began. “The idea of actually having a spouse sounds incredible. Every single person in this town speaks about Mark and you, like you two had this amazingly magical thing. I know I’ll never have that same love in my life.”
“Mark was wonderful,” he said,
“And I bet you had your part too,” I offered.
“I was along for the ride. Everything we were was because of him.”
“And the notes?” I asked. “Are you trying to make sure you stay on course?”
His eyes filled. The anguish written on his face was the only answer I needed. He nodded as a tear fell free.
“What would happen if you removed all the notes, Hunt?”
He shook his head back and forth, his face contorted in pain at the simple idea of my question. “I couldn’t,” he whispered, choking on his words. “He’d truly be dead then.”
Hunt bent over and covered his face with his hands. His back heaved as he tried to hold his hurt in. I stood and went to his side, the medical professional in me taking over. I hated to see this giant of a man so crumpled and distraught. I knew I should have shut up and minded my own business, but I was truly concerned about the rigidity of the notes, as well as his mental health.
My hand squeezed his shoulder, something so personal that I was shocked I’d reached out to him. “I went too far. I should mind my own business,” I said.
Hunt sat straight in his chair, swiping at his eyes. “Jesus! That feels good. The crying, you know?” I nodded in agreement. He took several breaths and composed himself. “I have a question for you now, doc.”
“Okay,” I replied.
He looked at me like he could look right through me. Of course, I immediately felt vulnerable. “You just said that you know you’ll never have the same sort of love that I had with Mark. Why do you think that?”
“People just tell me that,” I said.
“People?” he asked. “What kind of people would tell you something as cruel as that?”
“Just people,” I defended. “Friends. Family.” He didn’t know that I didn’t have friends, so I lumped the imaginary people into my list so my family wouldn’t take all the blame.
“You said earlier that animals don’t like you,” he reminded me. “Again, I ask. Friends? Family?” he asked.
“Mostly me,” I confessed, getting flustered and walking toward the kitchen.
Hunt stood and followed me, trapping me in a corner behind the kitchen island. “Why would people prejudge you? NowI’mconcerned, doc.”
“Oh, don’t be,” I insisted, waving him off and checking to see the quickest escape route. “I’m used to being alone and prejudged.”
Hunt took a step back and leaned against the island, crossing his arms. “Sort of like I’m used to people seeing me as the grieving spouse?”
“You think that’s how people see you?” I asked.
“I know that’s how people see me now,” I corrected. “That and a stick in the mud.”
I chuckled at his description of himself. “How about as helpful? Or serious? Or strong? Do you think people see you as those things?”
He pondered my question, scratching on his arm, an arm that bulged when he flexed it.Don’t go there, Ben. Same story as Charlie. Big, strong men, especially ones who wear uniforms, are poison for you.I quickly cleared my mind and stared at him as he gave more thought to what I’d asked.
