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harley altmeyer

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If Elvis had been asked a few weeks before, he'd have said that someone who'd disappeared showing up and remembering having been here previously would have been impossible. People leave and come back again, it's happened often enough, but until recently, he hadn't ever heard of someone who'd arrived again with all their memories intact, or newly returned, or something to that effect. He certainly wouldn't have expected that one of the few people he's ever been close to, that he'd given up on ever seeing again, would wind up doing exactly that. Effy's arrival may have him thrown for a loop, but only in a good way. He knows better than to think shit like this will last, almost has to wonder if there will be some price for something good happening, but for now, he means to just enjoy it.

Anabelle would have called it a miracle. She's one person he knows with certainty he'll never see again, though, and he's still not always sure how he feels about that subject anyway.

Having made plans to come meet her, to hang out for a while and spend some more time catching up, he takes the hearse that's sort of unofficially his out to the countryside, remembering more clearly than he would have expected how to get to the house that she shared before, and shares again, with Harley. Elvis may never have met him, but he's heard enough, which is why he isn't as surprised as he might otherwise have been when it isn't Effy who comes to the door after he knocks.

"Uh, hey," he says, chin lifting slightly in a nod of greeting. "Is Effy around?"

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There aren't too many people around who just drop by these days. Kate and Carla Jean are long gone and Effy has her key, so she lets herself in. That leaves only Ellie to turn up unexpected. When I get to the door, though, it's not her, but a man I don't recognize, looking for Effy.

I guess that's something I should probably get used to. She's more social than I am by far. She hasn't been back all that long, but she's got more friends than I do easy.

Including this guy, apparently.

I shake my head. "She went into town earlier," I tell him. "Should be back soon, though."

Maybe it shouldn't be surprising. It isn't like they'd set a specific time, just something approximate, and he's no good at estimating how long it will take him to drive out of the city to this part of town anyway. Back home, things like that were a hell of a lot easier, mostly because there were so few people around at all. Here, a drive that's half an hour one day could be an hour the next, depending on what's going on.

It doesn't make a difference now one way or the other. Exhaling slowly, he nods to himself, not entirely sure if that's an invitation to wait or not. "Okay," he says, as simple as that. "So I'm guessin' you're Harley?"

I nod, a little surprised he knows who I am, though I guess I shouldn't be. It's nice to think about Effy telling people about me, and I have to wonder what she says exactly. Whatever it is, I like imagining it, thinking of her telling people I'm her boyfriend. Knowing I am feels like an impossible stroke of luck after everything that's happened. She shouldn't be back, but she is.

"Yep," I say, and then offer my hand. "And you are?"

"Elvis," he replies, reaching out to shake Harley's offered hand. "She and I have known each other a long time now, she'd talked about you back when she was here before." He hadn't expected there to be anything more than that, but he doesn't think he needs to say that outright. It's been a long time, and people don't usually come back like she did, at least not that he's ever been aware of. If he wasn't expecting it, then there's no way he's the only one for whom that was the case, and the time she was gone doesn't seem worth talking about in depth with someone he's known for a matter of seconds.

I nod at that, privately pleased, and recognizing his name. It's a hard one to forget, if only because it's my dog's name, too. Elvis the dog perks up at the sound of his name, slipping out from behind me to sit on the porch between us.

"Yeah, she's mentioned you, too," I say, and glance past him. There's a hearse out there, which I assume is his. "You work at the mortuary, right?" Leave it to Effy to befriend someone with a job like that.

"Mmhmm," Elvis says, nodding in response. Whatever Effy has or hasn't said, he figures the hearse is probably enough of a giveaway. Given that he has access to one, he's never seen the point in getting some other sort of vehicle. This one does what he needs it to, and there's perfectly good public transportation in the city proper for anything else. Maybe it can be off-putting, but he's never really given a damn what anyone thinks about what he does. Someone has to do it, and he's never seen it as anything other than normal. Gesturing back towards the hearse, he adds, "Easier to borrow a ride from work than anything else."

I nod again, because that makes sense to me. I figure a ride like that might give me the creeps, but he's probably just used to it. He's probably used to a lot of things that would creep me out. I guess it just goes with the territory. Someone's got to do it. I'm happy just to keep moving furniture and painting.

"Well, you're welcome to come on in and wait if you want," I say, nodding back over my shoulder into the house. "She ought to be back soon."

"Yeah, alright, thanks," Elvis says, a thin smile crossing his face. Maybe it ought to be a little weird, spending however long with someone he doesn't really know except through what Effy's told him, but it would probably be a hell of a lot more awkward to wait out here or in the hearse, and there's no sense in driving all the way back into the city just to wind up coming out here again later. It isn't a bad drive, but that doesn't mean he wants to go back and forth like that.

Besides, he figures anyone Effy cares that much about has got to be good people.

"Long as it's not any trouble."

i shrug. "No trouble," I assure him. It's not like I'm doing anything important at the moment, and the house is in decent enough shape I don't feel too weird about a stranger showing up. Not anymore than having a stranger in the house feels to begin with, at least. Anyway, he's Effy's friend, so I guess I ought to try to get to know him a little.

I step back to let him in, though Elvis the dog goes charging ahead of him, back into the house. "He's not used to company."

"Fair enough," Elvis says, one corner of his mouth hitching a little higher as he steps inside. He doesn't have — has never had — any pets, but if he did, they wouldn't be remotely used to company, either. In the apartment, it's almost always just him and Gwen, and even if it came downstairs with him, most of his work is with the dead, not the living. Corpses aren't generally very talkative, though in all fairness, he wouldn't rule anything out here, either. If a dead pop singer can give a concert, then just about anything has got to be possible. "Seems pretty quiet out here. S'nice."

I nod, giving him a lopsided smile. "It is," I say. "That's why I picked it." I was never going to be a city person. I think even if I hadn't grown up in the middle of nowhere, I'd still have ended up here, gravitating toward the edges, where it's quieter. Seclusion feels safer. I don't know how to deal with crowds. I don't know how to make small talk, for that matter, but he doesn't seem to mind too much.

"You want a drink or something?"

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you have's fine," Elvis says, nodding in turn. He might as well, if he's going to stay and since he has some time to kill. Besides, while he normally wouldn't give a damn if a situation is awkward or not, he has some idea of what Harley means to Effy. It's worth making a little bit more of an effort than usual. It's with that in mind that he continues, adding, "I used to live way out in the middle of nowhere, back home. Still miss it sometimes."

I decide it's safest just to stick to water. I don't know Elvis. I don't know if he drinks or if it's too early for him or what. Water's safe, so that's what I get for us both.

"Yeah?" I ask. "I like it a hell of a lot better than the city. Where was home?"

"Texas," Elvis answers. "All the way south, not near any of the big cities or anything. There was hardly anything around for miles. I liked that." It is, perhaps, the only thing he misses of what would be left for him back there. He'd never be able to work again and his father was gone, but he had, in his way, loved that big old house in the middle of nowhere and all of the surrounding land. He gets by here well enough, and it's convenient to live right above his place of work, but it's still not the same. "I'm not really much for livin' in a city, either." He pauses a beat, then adds, "What about you? Where was home?"

"Black Lick, Pennsylvania," I say, and it still feels like it belongs to someone else or to some other life. I haven't lived that life in a long, long time now. It's distant like an old fairy tale, the kind mothers tell their children to make sure they behave. "Hardly anything around for miles there either. There was a little town a few miles over, but not a hell of a lot else. Mostly mining country, some forest."

I don't miss much about those days, but I do like it up here, in the quiet of the woods.

"Yeah, I can't say I've ever heard of it," Elvis says, shaking his head. "We didn't have any forests, mostly just... fields with shitty dirt, but I think I'd still take that over concrete and skyscrapers." He's long since learned to deal with it, at least, but he doubts he'll ever completely get used to living in a city, nor will he ever be all that fond of it. Whether it's lack of exposure or just because of who he is or both, he doesn't know, but he'd prefer something like this without question. "And not havin' so many damn people around."

I huff out a laugh and shake my head. "Never did get used to being around so many people," I tell him. "You could go miles without seeing anyone back home." It almost feels like a lie now, saying that. Back home. Like it's still home to me somehow. I guess it always will be, though, whether I like it or not. "You used to be on that island, too, right?"

"For a while, yeah," Elvis says, nodding. It feels like half a lifetime ago now; he doubts he could remember with any kind of specificity exactly how long he spent there. It's the details, mostly, that have stuck with him, and then then, he rarely dwells on them. "S'how Effy and I met. And you too, yeah?" It's strange sometimes, the number of them who were in the same, much smaller place, probably crossing paths without ever realizing it. Here, it's easier for people to get lost in the crowd, potentially going ages without running into each other.

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