When Dorning entered the quiet house, he was surprised at the mess in the usually spotless kitchen. He picked up the empty sherry bottle and tossed it into the trash, then shook his head at the sight of the red-stained tablecloth and the stack of dirty dishes in the sink.
“Natalie?”
There was no answer. He looked in her room.
“Natalie? Are you here?”
There was only silence.
Dorning hurried to the professor’s room. He knocked twice then went in.
“Percival?”
The small figure under the bed sheet was facing the wall, unmoving.
Dorning tentative shook the boy’s exposed shoulder, wondering who would awake.
“It is you, Professor, isn’t it?”
The figure groaned.
“Percival!” Dorning shook whoever it was with more force. “Answer me!”
“What, Dorning, what?” The professor rolled over, his eyes screwed shut. He grabbed his forehead. “Must you talk so loud?”
Dorning relaxed but still had questions. “What happened in the kitchen? Where’s Natalie?”
The professor opened his eyes and sat up with another low groan. “Natalie. Yes. I believe she resigned last night if I’m not mistaken. In fact, I’m quite sure of it.”
“Resigned? Why?”
Marlowe looked up sheepishly at Dorning. “Because of some memories I shouldn’t have mentioned, given my biological age.”
Dorning frowned. “What does that mean? Was she drinking?”
“We were both drinking. And at the end, were quite drunk.”
Dorning grabbed his forehead and paced in front of the bed. “She let you drink? I don’t believe it. I have no research as to what that might do to you, given that not all of your memories have been restored. I can tell you one thing, though. It can’t possibly help. Why would she allow you to drink? She knows you’re not nearly old enough. This is insane.”
Marlowe silently watched Dorning go back and forth. “She didn’t let the boy drink. She let . . . the professor drink,” he finally confessed.
Dorning stopped, his expression one of shock. “You told her? Why?”
“Because she’s been my housekeeper for more than twenty years, and she deserved to know the truth, that’s why.” He looked away, sheepish once more. “Unfortunately, I acted like an old fool, and away she went. I doubt she’ll be back anytime soon.”
Dorning paced again, faster this time. “No. This isn’t just insane. This could be a disaster. What if she goes to the authorities? They may not believe her story, but they might show up here just to see what’s going on. We can’t allow that to happen, Professor. You might be taken away.”
He made a decision and stopped pacing. “We have to leave, that’s all there is to it. Get up.” He motioned for the professor to rise. “Pack your things, and I’ll pack mine. We’re going to my house downtown.”
The professor meekly obeyed.
They drove in silence into the city. Dorning maneuvered the Mercedes through the snarled noontime traffic.
The professor sighed repeatedly to himself and gazed out the window at the storefronts as they passed by, holding his aching forehead.
Sorry, Miguel, he thought. Afraid I’m making a real mess of things. Not exactly what you signed on for, is it?
The only response was the muted noises from the busy city street.
He cleared his throat, finally spoke. “She may not go the authorities, you know.”
Dorning kept his eyes on the heavy traffic up ahead. “We can’t take that chance. I’m not even sure my place is such a good place to hide. Perhaps we need to get out of town completely, maybe even out of state just to play it safe.”
The light turned red in front of him; Dorning came to a stop. He caught a glimpse of a group of teenagers on his right. There were pointing in his direction.
He slapped the steering wheel hard. “Damn! I should have gone the long way home. They recognized my car, and now they recognize you.” He pressed the buttons on the armrest to make sure the windows were closed and all the doors locked.
“Who?” Marlowe looked out and saw the group of teenagers making their way towards the car. They were still pointing, seemed glad to see him. “Who are they?”
“Old associates of Miguel’s, I’m afraid. This is the neighborhood I rescued the boy from. Just ignore them, Professor. We can’t risk a relapse.”
Marlowe looked aghast. “I used to live here? With them? God help me.”
The teenagers pounded on the roof and tugged on the professor’s door handle.
“Hey Miguel! Good to see you, man. Looks like you’re doing all right,” a tall, skinny teen said, his face nearly pressed to the glass.
“Yeah man, is this your sugar daddy?” another teen asked. “Tell him I want some of that money, but I ain’t doing no tricks.”
The group laughed.
The tall teen tried the door handle again. “Come on man, open up. Don’t tell me you forgot about us? We used to be your best buds, Miguel. Aw, come on, don’t be this way. Look at me, will you? We had some great times together, hanging out and everything. You know we took real good care of you, hiding you from the police, making sure nobody hassled you, listening to all your stories about your mother. Don’t you remember? Come on, you have to remember all that, Miguel. There’s no way you forgot about us already.”
The group began to chant as they banged on the car windows. “Miguel, Miguel, Miguel, Miguel . . .”
The professor felt oddly lightheaded looking at them and listening to them call Miguel’s name. He turned his head and tried to wave the teens away.
“I feel very strange, Doctor,” he said. “Must be the hangover, eh?”
The light turned green. Dorning stepped on the gas and sped off, leaving the teens still chanting and laughing at the corner.
Dorning glanced at them in the side mirror. “Hooligans. Sorry, Professor. Are you all right?”
The professor’s head went back and his eyelids fluttered.
“Percival? Is something wrong?”
The boy doubled over and then slowly straightened up. “Oh man, have I got a headache.” He looked around in confusion. “Hey, where are we going? I thought we were on the beach.”
He gasped with remembrance, spun sideways in his seat to face Dorning. “Are you okay? You saved my life! I saw you drowning, and I didn’t know what to do, I just didn’t know what to do!”
Dorning drove with one hand as he waved at the boy to calm down. “It all right, it’s all right. We’re both fine. We’re just going to my house for a while.”
“What time is it? Is it the same day?” He rubbed his neck. “Man, does my head hurt.”
“No, it’s . . . a day later.”
“Just a day? You mean I was the professor for just a day?”
“Yes, yes you were. And now you’re Miguel again. See? You’re sharing, just like I promised. While you were the professor, I performed the operation to make that possible, just like I said I would. Fortunately, the operation was . . . non-invasive, so it didn’t require another bandage. I’m sure you can appreciate that. Your headache is just a temporary side effect that will soon fade away.”
The boy sat back, relieved. “Good. I hope I stay Miguel for a while. A long, long while. I don’t want to be the professor too often.”
Dorning pulled down the street where his house was. He decided to play a hunch.
He licked his lips. “Miguel, let me tell you something. The Professor is the one who saved my life. When you became the professor back there on the beach, he swam out and rescued me. You see, the professor was a superb swimmer when he was your age. Check your pockets. Let’s see if I can prove it to you.”
Miguel stuck his hands in his pockets and pulled a brass medallion from one of them. “Oh yeah. I remember this.”
Dorning gave the boy a calculated, sidelong glance. “You have the medal? Good. Why don’t you read it? Take a close look at it, a very close look.”
The boy held the medal in front of his face. “Cambridge, 1938.” He turned it over. “First place,” he read. “That’s all it says.”
“Are you sure?” Dorning asked. “Study both sides of the medal carefully now. Hold it very, very close. The Professor was very proud of that award, you know. All his classmates thought he was a hero, admired him and came to him for advice. Remember how even the girls suddenly found him attractive, and how much he liked them in return? That medal meant a lot to him, more than anything else you ever achieved in your life, even more than the Nobel Prize he won. Don’t you remember? Cambridge, 1938, and you were proud, so proud. First place. First place. Even his teachers and family were so proud of him. It was the greatest achievement of your life up to then, the greatest. Why don’t you take a whiff of it? It has an interesting metallic smell, remember? One I believe you found very pleasing, very pleasing and unique. Try it. Go ahead. It can’t hurt you. I’m sure you’ll really like it.”
Miguel blinked, then brought the medal up to his nose to do as he was told, his eyes unfocused and his mouth drooping slightly.
Dorning tried to suppress a grin. “He wore that medal to class every day with its red and white ribbon. You remember that ribbon, don’t you? Red and white? That medal means more to you than anything in the world, Professor. More than anything. It changed your life around, Professor. Changed your entire life for the better. You were so very, very proud, so incredibly, justifiably proud. It changed your life forever, Percival. Forever and ever and ever.”
Dorning saw the boy’s head nod as he pulled into the driveway to his house.
The medal slipped from the boy’s grip and landed with a thud on the floor.
Dorning shut off the engine, came around to the passenger side, and opened the door.
“Professor? We’re here now.”
Marlowe raised his head and rubbed his eyes. “Already? Did I fall asleep? Damn this hangover! Do me a favor, Dorning. Next time I decide to drink, remind me that my body weight is only a fraction of what it used to be and that I should limit my alcohol intake accordingly.” He swung his legs around to get out of the car.
“Hold it. I think you dropped something on the floor.” Dorning pointed at the medallion.
“I did? What is it?
Marlowe retrieved the fallen item, smirking when he realized what it was.
He turned to face the doctor. “Good heavens! It’s my precious swimming medal. I sure don’t want to lose this, now do I?” He flipped it up in the air, caught it tight and waved it happily at Dorning.
Dorning grinned cordially as he opened the trunk to retrieve their luggage. “No, you certainly don’t, Professor. I know how much it means to you,” he said, pulling out the first suitcase. “Just how very much.”