The Map That Leads to You

by J.P. Monninger

“I think Jack’s symptoms had reappeared. He was sick before he came to Europe. I think that’s it. He never came right out and explained everything. I can’t say whether or not that was the reason he decided not to go home with you, but I’ve always thought it was. It’s the only explanation that makes sense. I reckon he wanted you to think poorly of him, to let him go, because whatever he found out at the hospital maybe confirmed something he suspected. I don’t know the timing on all this, but he had to wait for some test results to come in. That’s what he told me.” “But Jack wasn’t sick,” I said, though now doubt had begun to spill into my brain. “He told me about his friend Tom, but he never—” “It wasn’t Tom. There was no one named Tom, Heather.” “His friend. A man he worked with. What are saying, Raef?” “There was no friend named Tom. Sometimes he referred to his condition as ‘old Tom.’ He turned it into a joke. He’d say things like, ‘Old Tom’s not letting me sleep.’ I don’t know where he dreamed that up, but that was the name he used.” “I can’t understand what you’re saying to me, Raef. I hear the words, but they don’t add up.” “Tom was something he made up so that he could talk about the need to experience everything without going into the exact reason. He gave the illness to an imaginary friend. Maybe it wasn’t fair. I don’t know. He didn’t want people to pity him. He didn’t want to be treated differently, to answer all the questions his condition would raise. I’m sorry...