The Runaway: Dr. Pete's Perspective

This story is odd, long, and winding. I warn you, I’m not the storyteller that I once was, but I’ll try to recall it exactly how it happened. Or, at the very least, how I remember it did. I wasn’t there for everything, after all. No one was. That’s how it gets so mixed up all the time. Truth is a tricky thing around here. It all started seventeen years ago, in a small town in Wyoming called by the locals Serendipity…

The young man, Mikey, was new in town. He came in on a bus, like everyone. He had no identification save an obviously fake license. He just enough cash to get by, but not so much anyone would take note. He carried with him a single backpack and a small suitcase. The suitcase, I would come to find out, had only clothes and toiletries. The backpack had a notebook, which he was constantly writing in, an immense book on one philosophy or another, I don’t remember, and a sealed, black bag with the words ‘DO NOT OPEN’ scrawled across it. In all my time with him, I saw the bag only once, hanging in his room, still sealed, but I digress.

This Mikey came into town like a hurricane, looking for something. Never learned what, but I think he didn’t find it here. He was strong and capable. But, being that he was a runaway and refused to use his real name, he couldn’t get a real job, or a real address. That’s where my old buddy Jim came in. Jim ran the local watering-hole, and he had a rather large basement. So, one day, he saw Mikey sleeping on a bench. Jim assumed the man was heading out on the next bus, and asked, “You got somewhere you’re going, or you just going?”

Mikey laughed, and said back, “I thought this was gonna be the place I was headed, but evidently, it ain’t. Can’t stay much longer, though. Got a warning for napping in public yesterday.”

Jim nodded. “Well, we can’t have that,” he said to the man, “Come on into the pub, I think we can work something out.” Now before you say anything, Jim isn’t that kind of person. He’s not a criminal, not really. He just doesn’t mind doing a good deed, every once in a while, even if that deed isn’t the most legal. I’m pretty sure he knew the kid was a runaway, but that didn’t mean he was a bad kid. Jim had been a runaway a couple times himself, cut all ties and started fresh. So, seeing the kid wanting the same thing, he led him into his pub and gave him an offer. “Listen,” he said, “I know your situation. How ‘bout you rent out the side room in the basement. Cheap and cash. In return, I’ll set you up with odd jobs around the town. People always need work done, and you seem like you could do most kinds of work.”

Mikey nodded. “Thanks,” he said, relieved, and he carried his two bags down the stairs and into his new apartment. He unpacked, opening his suitcase and removing the toiletries. He also took the sealed bag out from his backpack and hung it on the wall. Then, confident he was ready, he asked Jim, “You mind if I don’t start any odd jobs until tomorrow? I think I need some sleep.”

Jim nodded. “Sure, kid,” he said, “By the way, I’m Jim.”

“Mikey,” the kid replied. Mikey took just long enough to answer that Jim knew it wasn’t his real name, but Jim didn’t really care. He always used to dismiss the truth as a personal thing, that names were just what we called each other, and all that really mattered was someone’s character and what they wanted to be. Jim was a good kind.

Anyways, the next day, Mikey started doing things around town. He’d make deliveries for people, help out the construction crews, work the fields, even fix people’s things. Any job that people needed done fast and would pay cash for. And he was damned good at it. The kid was the fastest learner I’d ever met, or he’d done all of the work given to him in some prior life. What he’d probably planned as a week-long stay started to grow and grow. He was in the town hall or the town library every second he wasn’t working, eating, or sleeping, and some of the seconds that he was. Everyone said he was looking for something. To this day, we never figured out what.

Three months into his stay was when I came into the picture. I returned from my yearlong internship to my old hometown, a bona fide doctor. The first one for our little village. The nearest hospital was two towns over, and so doctors only came around on appointments or emergencies, normally. But me, I loved that little town. It was the most picturesque little place you’d ever seen, trust me. SO, I come in, and need an office built. I go, meet with Jim, and he puts forth this kid, Mikey, as a good one. So, I meet with the kid in the local library. He was reading through one of the records of the town history. I sat down across from him and asked, “Hey, kid. How’s the town treating you?”

He looked up at me, a look mixing fear and confusion in his eyes. “I ain’t never seen you round here before,” he said to me, trying to hide the fear behind the confusion, “Who’re you?”

I put forth my hand. “Doctor Pete Engleson. I just got back in town from med school. You?”

“Mikey Pergio,” he answered me much more confidently than he’d answered Jim all those years before. He was used to being Mikey, after only a couple of months. I’d been a doctor for more time, and I wasn’t as comfortable adding Doctor in front of my name as he was calling himself Mikey. He continued, “I’ve been staying here for a bit. Doing odd jobs, here and there.”

“How would you like a real job?” I asked. I knew that he’d probably be hesitant because of the whole not-being-a-real-person thing, but I had to ask.

He smiled up at me. “Can’t,” he replied, “I’m lacking a few things necessary for someone to hire me.”

I nodded. “Feel free to stop by the new place whenever, though,” I said, “I could use a helping hand, and Jim said you’re a fast study.”

Mikey sighed. “Life’ll do that to you,” he replied. Then, after a pause, he added, “Anyways, I’ll make sure to stop by, Dr. Engleson.”

Laughing, I replied, “Please, call me Pete. Everyone else will.”

He smiled as he left. He did stop by every once in a while, for work. Not as often as I’d’ve liked, but often enough that he was practically a trained nurse by the end of the next month. Two months after I’d moved back to town, we met up again, at Jim’s Pub. I was doing my normal stint of day-drinking that caused my eventual liver-failure, and he came up to me. He, too, it seems, felt the need to drink before two. I turned to look at him. “What’s got you drinking so early?” I asked.

He pointed at the roof. “Storm’s brewing, so everything’s been called off. You?”

“It’s my day off. Why aren’t you reading stuff like you normally do when you’re off?”

He sighed and looked off into the distance, as though peering through the wood-paneled walls and out into the heart of the universe. He remained silent for long enough that I finished my drink and ordered another. He looked over at me. “You treat everyone for pennies, how can you afford to drink this much?” he asked me.

I could tell he was genuinely curious, not just making small talk. I realized, he may be a part of the community, but he hadn’t really embraced the possibilities that came with that. He’d stayed on the outskirts of the world, rather than diving headlong into them. I smiled and shrugged. “Jim and I have an understanding. I drink free, and he gets free medical care.”

“And he’s okay with that?” Mikey asked, “I’d’ve thunk your alcohol’d add up to more than his visits.”

“It sure does,” Jim said with a chuckle.

I nodded. “Mmhm. But, if anything goes tragically wrong,” I said, trailing off. Mikey still looked confused, so I added the other half of the truth. “And anyways, we’re a small community. We look out for each other.”

Mikey looked at Jim, judgement in his eyes. “So, I could’ve been drinking and eating here free this whole darned time?” he asked.

Jim laughed. “Sure,” he said, “If you wanted to be working for free this whole time.”

Mikey thought a moment. I clarified for him, “It’s a commitment. You can always make it if your comfortable here, but that doesn’t mean you have to.”

Mikey shook his head and said, “Come, let me show you something.” Standing up, he walked towards the basement. Taking my beer, I followed. He led me down to his apartment and opened the door. It was exactly like Jim had described it was when he first moved in. Mike walked into it. “I can’t,” he said to me, “I just got no idea how.”

I nodded. “I understand.” Then, with a smile, I added, “I’ve always started with a plant. Or a pet.”

He smiled. “I ain’t sure no plant’d survive down here, what without any sunlight coming in. And I don’t think I want to bring no pet into this hectic thang I call my life.”

I furrowed my brow, thinking a moment. He was right, of course. He couldn’t keep a plant alive in the room, and he had a hectic enough schedule as is. Then, I said, “How about a fish?”

“A fish?” Mikey asked.

“A fish,” I said again, “Think about it.”

He began to nod. “Don’t need no light. Only really need to be fed once in the morn and once at night. Don’t take much space. You’re smart, you know.”

I smirked. “You give yourself too little credit,” I said, “You’re probably smarter than I am.”

He laughed. The next day, he went and bought an aquarium and a fish. The aquarium was enormous, and when the person at the pet store asked, “Well, why’re you getting this one?” he chuckled.

Then, only once he was finished laughing, did he add, “I’m thinking about making a commitment, kind of.”

That was the beginning of the kid’s real stay in the town. The aquarium’s collection of fish grew and grew. He stopped being paid for jobs, and just became part of our little community. Everyone appreciated his help, and the fish continued to grow in number. He stopped investigating whatever he was looking for every time he could. He still looked, you know, because we can’t help who we are, but I saw him doing other things for fun, too. And his fish grew even greater in multitude. Mikey stayed with Jim, in that basement, for three whole years and some change. Heck, I’m pretty sure if he ever returned, Jim’d welcome him with open arms. Not whoever he became when he returned to life, that guy’s probably a terrible person. After all, he disappeared for almost four years without even a phone call. But Mikey is always welcome.

Anyways, one day, I got into the Pub for my normal, weekly day-drinking fun. It was, after all, my day off. Normally, Jim would be serving me, and Mikey would join me for it. But Jim wasn’t’ there that day. Linda, his daughter, was working the bar, and gave me my usual. I asked her, “Linda, where’s Jim?”

Linda smiled. “He’s busy today.”

I nodded. “I’m guessing I know what that means,” I said. Jim was only ever busy when someone was making him busy. I got up, walked down the stairs, and checked the basement. The room was almost entirely empty. The mattress sat in the corner it always occupied. The rest of the room, including the spot where once the massive aquarium lay, was empty. All that was left to prove Mikey ever existed, pinned to the wall, in the spot that the sealed bag once sat, was a sliver of black plastic. I sighed and went back upstairs. “Damnit,” I said to Linda, ordering up another beer, “He was the best assistant I could ask for.”

Linda laughed, a forced, fake laugh. I knew she had more about this story, but I also knew better than to ask. This town is a wonderful community. But it’s a community built on secrets, lies, and half-truths. In a place like this, the only way to know the real truth was to be there for the events.

#firstperson #fiction #realisticfiction #story #modernity #SerendipityWY