Letter Found in a Desk - 3. Chapter 3 - Loup, Vic and Marty

Vic and Loup found a parking spot near the entrance of the nursing home. “So,” Vic said, “you’re hoping that whatever you’ve got in the bag will jog Martin’s memory?”

“It might. It’s something he used to enjoy.”

“Should I leave you two alone while you – unwrap it?”

Loup laughed. “It’s nothing like that. And there will be enough for you, too.”

“Well then, I guess I don’t need to feel jealous. I take it this is something to eat?”

“You take it correctly.”

“I should probably have told you that Martin has lost a lot of his sense of smell. And taste.” Vic announced himself to the nurse at the front desk and signed the register. “I’m here to see Martin Sheffield.”

“And you are?”

“His nephew, Victor Halliday. This is my friend Loup.”

The nurse nodded. “Room 28.”

“Yes. Thank you. I know the way.” Vic showed Loup where to sign the register. He touched Loup’s elbow and steered him down a hall.

Loup shifted his paper bag. “Maybe the memory of this little treat will give Marty’s nose a boost. Were you really about to feel jealous?”

“Well – I decided that you’re a different Loup than the one Martin knew. Loup the Second. Loup Two. My Loup.”

“Your Loup? Vic, this is so sudden.”

“I mean the Loup I know. I figure you must be Loup the First’s much, much younger brother or cousin or something.”

“Whatever works for you.”

They reached Martin’s room. Vic grasped Loup’s hand. “Don’t be surprised if he doesn’t recognize you. And his speech is really difficult to decipher, like I told you. Half the time I have no idea what he’s saying.”

“I understand.”

“All right.” Vic knocked on the door. “Uncle Martin?”

A voice in the room blurted something indistinct.

Vic opened the door a crack. “It’s Vic. Okay if I come in?”

There was a mumbled response. Vic opened the door. “Hey, I brought someone to see you.” He motioned to Loup, who stepped through the doorway.

“Hello, Marty.” Loup grinned.

Uncle Martin, half in and half out of a pair of sweat pants, squinted at Loup. “Gwoo?”

“Yes, it’s me, Loup.”

Vic started helping Martin get his other leg into the sweats. “You remember him?”

“Yah. Woo.”

“That’s great, Uncle Martin.”

Martin looked at Loup and gestured. “Gwloo, hishesh – bruh-huh My-hee.”

Loup looked to Vic for translation. Vic said, “He thinks I’m his little brother Mikey.”

‘Oh, yes. I remember hearing about Mikey.”

Martin’s eyebrows scrunched. “My-hee – oo yawn er yoo.” He pointed at Loup. “Or hoo awng en tooh.” He grinned. Loup laughed.

Vic was bewildered. “Did you understand that?”

“He says Mikey is too young for me, and that I’m getting too long in the tooth. For you. The ‘long in the tooth’ thing is a little private joke. But you read his note. You know where that comes from.”

“You mean – your canine teeth?”

Loup opened his bag. “Hey, Marty, I brought you something.” He pulled out three tiny porcelain bowls, three tiny antique spoons, and a pint of ice cream. “Remember this?”

A lopsided smile crawled across Martin’s face. “Yah.”

Loup spooned out equal servings in the three bowls and handed Martin and Vic their portions. “That same place is still making this. Their prices are ridiculous now, but nobody else makes it like this.” Martin dug in eagerly.

Vic tried a spoonful. It was chocolate, but mixed with other flavors. Cinnamon? Mint? Indian spices? “Loup, what’s in this? It’s delicious.”

With perfect clarity, Martin said, “Cardamom.”

“You remember,” Loup said. “That’s it exactly, cardamom and a few other spices.”

Vic devoured the contents of the bowl. “Is there any more?”

“Here, have some of mine,” Loup said. “I gave myself too much.” He filled his spoon and brought it over to Vic’s mouth. “Open wide. You’re gonna like it.”

Vic managed not to laugh as he accepted the spoonful of ice cream.

Martin’s eyes flashed alarm. Again quite clearly, he said, “Lou, don’t.”

Vic was feeling a bit lost. Martin’s suddenly restored speech, Loup’s heavy flirting, and Martin’s sudden objection, made the moment surreal. Was Martin jealous? Was Vic himself feeling jealous? “Why not, Uncle Martin?”

Martin leaned toward Vic with an intense scowl. “He’s too old for you. You don’t know. He’s not like us.”

Loup put a hand on Martin’s shoulder. “Marty. I’ve missed you.” He kissed Martin on the cheek.

Martin sank back. “Gwoo.”

Vic took Martin’s hand. “I can look after myself, Uncle Martin. Don’t worry about me.”

Martin was shaking his head. “My-hee. My-hee.”

Vic and Loup stayed only a few more minutes. Martin was less and less responsive.

As he left, Loup in tow, Vic again had the feeling of being unmoored in time, of not knowing if he was in the present or the past.

**

Loup offered to pay for lunch, and Vic accepted. When the restaurant turned out to be an expensive one, Vic felt uneasy. But Loup dismissed his misgivings. “I don’t think of this place as fancy. I just like it. So don’t worry about it. When you feel like reciprocating, take me to the cheapest place you know, and I’ll be delighted with it, I promise.”

While they were there, a man approached their table. He greeted Loup, who stood up to hug him. Physically, the two were quite a contrast. Where Loup was slender-muscular, this man was broad-shouldered and thick-waisted. Loup’s dark hair and short beard looked like he did nothing to them after showering but rub them with a towel, but this man’s carefully curated grey horseshoe mustache, soul patch and pointed sideburns under a crewcut suggested a cleaned-up biker.

“Vic, this is my friend and my doctor, Ralph Logan.”

Vic stood. “Nice to meet you, Ralph. Are you the one Loup calls his vet?”

The man laughed. “Oh, you know about that? Most people call me Logan, by the way. Only dogs call me Ralph, because it’s easier in their language. Ralph! Ralph!” Logan laughed again.

Loup put an arm around Vic’s shoulder. “Vic is the nephew of an old friend of mine, Marty Sheffield.”

“Oh, sure, I remember Marty. Wow, Loup, you really do have a very specific type, don’t you?”

Vic looked uncertainly at Loup. Loup shrugged and said to Vic, “Can’t take him anywhere. Can’t even risk running into him.”

“Don’t mind me,” Logan said. “Loup and I go way back even though we’re total opposites. He’s an eternal romantic. I don’t have a drop of romance in my soul. I just like sex.” He laughed again.

Although it was presented as a joke, Vic suspected there was a lot of truth in what Logan said.

“Listen, I’m with someone, and I’d better get back,” Logan said, looking across the room. “But it’s great to see you, Loup. And nice to meet you, Vic. Maybe someday someone like you will put some romance in my soul. You almost make me see the appeal.” He returned the way he came.

Vic sat again. “I suppose you’re going to tell me he’s one of you guys with this special syndrome.”

Loup also sat. “Yes, as a matter of fact, he is.”

“And how old is he? A hundred and thirty?”

Loup smiled. “He’s older than I am. But I promise, he’s under a hundred.”

“So, are you really as romantic as he says?”

Loup leaned forward and said quietly, “Would you like to find out?”

**

About five minutes elapsed from the moment Vic pulled up in front of Loup’s apartment to the two of them being naked in bed together. To Vic’s taste, Loup was the perfect balance of rough and tender, demanding and solicitous.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Loup panted, deep inside Vic. “I can’t hold back much longer.”

“Neither can I.”

“Come with me! Come with me! Tell me when.”

“Now!”

“Oh, God! Oh, fuck!” And as they both climaxed, Loup shouted, “Marty!!”

Vic froze, then disengaged and scrambled out of bed. He grabbed his pile of clothes and ran to the bathroom. He quickly wiped the cum off his torso and got dressed.

Loup knocked on the door. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Uh – uh –”

“Vic. My name is Vic.”

“Vic, please, don’t go. Please talk to me.”

“Nothing to say.” Vic, fully dressed, hurried from the bathroom to the front door.

“Vic, I like you so much.”

“I was hoping you did. I was hoping I wasn’t just your means of reconnecting with my uncle. I was hoping I wasn’t just Martin Light. Marty Low-Cal Substitute. I Can’t Believe It’s Not Marty.”

“You’re not. Vic, hold on a minute, please. Just slow down.”

Vic paused in the open front doorway. “Loup?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t call me.” Vic slammed the door behind him.

Loup sat on the red chair in the living room, buried his face in his hands, and cried.

**

The next day, Vic listened to Loup’s message. “Vic, please, let me make this right. I’m so sorry about my stupid brain dredging up the past. I want you. I want to be in the present with you. I hope you’ll call me back. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I hope you can. I won’t pester you if you decide you don’t want to talk to me. I really want you to talk to me again, but if you can't bring yourself to, I’ll understand.”

Vic was conflicted. He didn’t like being wanted for his similarity to someone else. He wanted to be wanted for himself. But he also was very attracted to Loup.

At last, he decided that a visit was warranted, if only to clear the air. He drove over to Loup’s at nine o’clock one night about a week after The Incident, as he thought of it. The full moon was just rising above the skyline. The wind had a penetrating chill.

Vic pressed the intercom button. He waited. He pressed it again. He waited again.

A click signaled that Loup had opened the connection. But there was no sound.

“Loup?”

There was a strangled sound like a growl.

“Loup? Can you hear me?”

There was another strangled sound, then a whimper and a whine.

“Loup?”

There was something like a bark -- a bark that sounded a bit like “fick.”

Vic turned and began walking away. As he did, he heard a howl through the intercom.

Vic shuddered, ran to his car, and drove away.