“Maybe it depends on the amount of suffering too,” I added, stroking a hand over her hair.
“And whether you have people holding your hand along the way, sharing the burdens, shouldering some of the pain.” She leaned into my hand.
“Did you have that, Millie?” I asked quietly.
“I did. My mom may not have been able to keep me from suffering, and I certainly couldn’t keep her from suffering, or Henry, for that matter. But we loved each other, and that made the suffering bearable.”
“I want to be that for you, Millie. I want to carry you. I want you to give it all to me,” I said, and then sang a little Rolling Stones in her ear, changing the lyrics just a bit.
“Let me be your beast of burden, my back is broad to ease your hurtin,’” I sang, kissing her earlobe. I would love her and keep her safe, and I swore to myself then that I would do the impossible. There would be no more suffering for Amelie Anderson. I would be the one shouldering all the shit.
She let me nuzzle her neck for a minute, humming happily.
“There are some other words in that song, David. He asks if he’s enough. If he’s enough for her. So I am asking you, Tag. Am I enough? Because I’m not too blind to see.”
The bridge of the song she quoted cartwheeled through my mind and I shook my head, amazed. I’d forgotten the line about being too blind.
“Am I tough enough? Am I hard enough?” I sang, more than a little turned on.
“So are you going to give it all to me too, big guy? The good, the bad, and the ugly? Because I want it all.” I smiled at her earnest delivery, her heartfelt declaration, and tried not to laugh at the sexual innuendo. She had no idea. So I wouldn’t crack up.
I pulled the guitar from her hands and laid it on the floor.
“You’re more than enough, Silly Millie.”
She turned in my arms and found my face with her hands before she let her lips touch mine. I kissed her as Mick Jagger crooned the line about drawing the curtains and making sweet love somewhere in the back of my mind.
(End of Cassette)
Moses
“HELLO, DOC? IT’S Moses Wright.”
“Moses! It’s so good to hear from you.” Dr. Andelin’s voice was deep and butter warm, the way it always was, and I marveled at his ability to make people feel instantly safer, better, heard. He’d been a squeaky new psychologist when I first met him at Montlake—maybe twenty-six or twenty-seven years old—but he had that way about him that made you feel like his soul had lived a million lives. He was wise and kind, and Tag and I were both pretty fond of him. But I pushed through the niceties that Tag was so much better at, interrupting Noah Andelin even though I knew it was rude and he would think I’d lost all the ground I’d gained since being a surly eighteen-year-old in his care at Montlake.
“Doctor Andelin, I know Tag’s seen you on a fairly regular basis since we came back to Utah. And I know you can’t tell me what you talked about. I get that. Doctor-patient confidentiality and all that stuff. I don’t need to know what Tag’s said to you or what you’ve said to him. But he’s gone, Doctor Andelin. He just split suddenly. He’s in love with a great girl who loves him back, but I keep seeing his sister. I keep seeing his sister, Doc, and I don’t have to tell you why that scares me to death.”
I wasn’t connecting my thoughts very well, but the swift intake of breath on the end of the line confirmed that Noah Andelin was keeping up with me.
“In your professional opinion, would he hurt himself? I mean. He’s not suicidal,” I stopped suddenly, because I realized I didn’t know if that was true. Listening to Tag, I had no idea if he was emotionally back in the corridors of Montlake, wanting to escape himself. I amended my statement. “I mean, he’s not suicidal like he was. In some ways, Tag is the healthiest guy I know. But he has a crazy streak, and he’s great at saving everyone else and not always very good at taking care of himself. He just took off so suddenly. Where do you think he’d go? Do you have any advice that could help me find him?”
Dr. Andelin didn’t answer immediately, and I could picture him with his hand against his face, his head tilted, just thinking.
“How do you know he isn’t just . . . taking a break?” Dr. Andelin finished inanely, as if trying to come up with a viable alternative.
“He’s left us some cassettes. The girl he’s been seeing is blind. So he’s recorded himself, talking to her, basically.”
“Amelie,” Dr. Andelin supplied, and I realized Tag had consulted with him on something.
“So you know about her.”
“Yes. I saw him a month ago. He was—” Dr. Andelin stopped, as if trying to carefully negotiate confidentiality. “He was happier than I have ever seen him. This is . . . unexpected.”
“Would it help you to hear the tapes?” I was desperate. I hoped Millie wouldn’t object.
“Has he given you any reason to believe there is anything you can do?” Dr. Andelin asked quietly.
“What?” I felt the anger surge through my veins, and I wanted to throw my phone against the wall.
“How long has it been since anyone has seen him?” Dr. Andelin’s voice was unbearably gentle.
“More than two weeks,” I whispered.
“TAG?” LISA LOOKED a little harried, her eyes wide, her hands shaking. “Uh, I think we’ve got a problem. Morgan . . . Morgan is in the lounge. He’s been drinking for the last few hours, and he’s starting to get abusive. I didn’t want to get him in trouble. Morg’s my friend. I don’t know what happened with his job, but, well—” I was around the bar, tossing instructions at Vince and moving down the hall and into the lounge with Lisa trotting after me, making all kinds of excuses for Morgan.