“In my time studying, in my years practicing, I never came close to finding such a medical marvel, such a wonderful affliction,” Tooms said.
Through the window Patch watched a dry storm seize the distance, each shaft of rainfall sublimating, like it was for show, for them.
“It’s an emotion,” Patch said.
“Oh it is, that’s not in doubt. But it’s more, right? It turns you off your food. It stops you sleeping, stops you thinking.”
Patch heard the smile in Marty’s voice as he spoke.
“So you’ve felt it then,” Patch said.
“Once. A long time back. But turns out once is more than enough.”
“Who was the dame?”
Marty laughed. “I guess maybe someone all wrong for me in the ways that counted least. We fell in love and it was like…you know when all of a sudden there’s meaning. Actual true meaning and purpose.”
“Like color in the dark,” Patch said.
“Yes. Exactly yes. Nothing is so dark with them in the world.”
“How did you meet?”
“I was just seventeen. Each year my parents would farm out work to local kids when the harvest was due. I mean, it was tough work, backbreaking.”
“Fun.”
Tooms laughed. “So fun only one kid from school showed. We spent that whole summer just the two of us on my family land. Got to know plenty about each other. We had our differences, but the fundamentals…to be kind, it was ingrained, you know. A good heart. Not much in the world more important than that.”
Both settled in silence awhile. “What happened?” Patch said.
“Hearts were broken, and then healed, and then broken all over again. But we lived, Joseph. Just like you. We lived and laughed, and we loved each other without condition. And so when it happens, when they lead me into that room, I know I can seek out a single picture in my mind to carry me away.”
“Paint it for me,” Patch said, the steel hard against his back.
“A smile. Doesn’t sound much, but when it was aimed at me, I knew for sure it was the only one I ever needed.”
The storm moved from sight. Only calm remained.
“There’s so much I don’t understand,” Patch said.
“I can’t tell you where she is, Joseph.”
At that they both turned.
And Patch saw it clear enough in his eyes.
“Because you don’t know.”
Tooms glanced toward the gate, where Blackjack stood and reached for his key.
“But you do know something,” Patch said, following his eye. “You have to tell me. You can’t leave me like this, Marty. Not after everything.”
Blackjack crossed the stone floor slow.
Patch gripped Marty’s hand through the bars. “Please. I’ll beg…I’ll fucking beg you. I can’t go on the rest of my life.”
Marty looked at him, tears in his eyes. “I’ll see you next week.”
“And?” Patch held his breath, felt the sweat on his back as the air left them, what remained little more than a morgue.
Tooms nodded.
He would tell him.