“Have you ever been on antidepressants?”
“Not really.”
“Dizzy spells are the worst.”
“No, I don’t have siblings. I’m an only child.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you to the hospital? We could go if you’re not feeling well,” Tallie said.
“I don’t need to go to the hospital, Miss Tallie, thank you. Will you hand me my backpack, please?”
“You don’t mind me getting it?”
“No. Will you get it for me, please?” he asked, putting his head in his hands.
TALLIE
She found his backpack next to the couch. Pam had perched herself upon it. Tallie apologized for having to disrupt the cat’s napping area and petted her head. She handled his backpack gently, placed it on the floor at his feet in the kitchen.
“I’ll show you what’s in here. It’s not scary. Just stuff,” he said, unzipping the front pocket and pulling out an unlabeled orange plastic bottle rattling with pills. “Allergy medicine and beta-blockers. The beta-blockers settle my heart, my adrenaline. It’s a low dose, but they can make me dizzy.” He took a small, round orange pill with his water.
Medication: antihistamines, beta-blockers. Antidepressants, maybe?
“Of course,” she said, knowing beta-blockers blocked norepinephrine as well as adrenaline and were also prescribed for anxiety and stage fright, relaxing the automatic fight-or-flight response. She didn’t treat any clients who relied on beta-blockers alone for anxiety management, but at least Emmett had something.
Tallie made two fresh mugs of tea as Emmett put the items on her kitchen table, the things she’d felt but not seen. The fuzzy blue snow hat she’d bought him at the outlet mall. A black lighter, a soft pack of cigarettes. A pair of oatmeal-colored wool socks rolled into a neat thick ball. One pair of white boxer shorts. A navy-blue pocket T-shirt folded into a pair of dark denim. The diamond wedding ring in its ring box. A bag containing a travel toothbrush and toothpaste, a plastic tube of deodorant. An unopened unscented bar of soap. A clean white washcloth, a clean black towel. The snaky cord and chunky thunk of his phone charger. An old plum-red copy of the New Testament—the size of a deck of cards—with a scrap of paper torn from a children’s coloring book sticking out. A brick-size manila envelope. A pair of citron fabric butterfly wings with elastic shoulder loops.
“Can I?” Tallie asked, sitting and holding her hand out.
“Yes,” Emmett said. “Unremarkable, like I said. And I have that Kershaw knife I keep clipped to my jeans if you want to take it from me. So you’re not scared.”
“I’m not scared,” Tallie said. Could she levitate from sincerity? She picked the items up, inspected them as if she were an archaeologist, attempting to glean everything she could from his culture and the time period in which he lived. She felt closer to him immediately, seeing and touching more of his stuff, as if his secrets had taken physical form. When she got to the envelope, she peeked inside and gasped. What had felt like a book wasn’t a book.
“Emmett, how much money is in here?”
“Thousands, around ten.”
“Okay, wow. And you had the nerve to ask me if I was afraid you’d rob me blind. Aren’t you scared to walk around with all this money?”
“I don’t care about the money. I was going to leave it on the bridge anyway for someone to find, hopefully put to good use,” he said. “And I’d like to give you more, for everything you’ve done for me.” He began peeling off hundred-dollar bills, a couple of twenties.
“I don’t want you to give it to me. I mean it. Stop,” she said, putting her hand on his. He stacked the money for her neatly and pushed it to the edge of the table. It wasn’t entirely weird for someone considering suicide to drain their bank account or whatever he’d done; saving money quickly lost its importance next to matters of life and death. But she still asked, “You won’t tell me where you got this?” She touched the envelope with the tip of her finger.
“Not illegally. I promise,” he said.
“Why are you walking around with it?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Tallie raised her eyebrows. She sat back in her chair, frustrated. Leaned forward, frustrated. Drank her tea, frustrated.
“Look, I know how this sounds, but it’s not dirty money, and it’s mine. I saved it, that’s all,” he said.