People Need Names
Sam was almost shocked by how not hard it was to sleep with a stranger under his roof. He’d expected a night of restless tossing and turning, of waking up every few hours to check the locks, of having paranoid dreams about sand constantly falling away underneath his feet. Hell, he’d half wondered if he was going to wake up with a gun in his face.
But to his great shock, he woke up to the sound his alarm in the morning, having slept soundly through the night. It was as if nothing was wrong. Actually, it was better than that. It was the best night’s sleep he’d had in months.
He staggered through his morning routine – not typically a morning person, but willing to put some effort into it now and again – and walked into the living room to find his houseguest, the Asset or whatever his name really was, standing at parade rest in front of the big bay window that overlooked the street. At the sound of Sam’s footsteps, the man turned and stared over at Sam.
“Hey,” said Sam, pulling orange juice out of the fridge. “Did you sleep okay?”
The night before he had shown the man to his not too shabby guest room, the pinnacle of Sam’s adulting prowess. He was a grown man with a whole extra room just for housing other people who sometimes stayed with him. It was like a giant room-sized fuck you to the boyfriend who’d called him immature for still having a couple Captain America comics tucked away in his closet.
Asset didn’t reply to Sam’s question about his sleep, but he did actually speak, which was an improvement on the night before. “Permission to report, Sir.”
Sam poured himself a glass of juice and then poured another one for his guest. Waffles or pancakes? Oatmeal? What the hell do you feed ex-wetworks amnesiacs anyway? Bacon? “Granted,” he said, before taking a sip. Bacon was probably a good bet.
While Sam pulled out a skillet and put the skills his mama had drilled into him before leaving for Basic to good use, the Asset reported out what he’d seen during the night.
1. A neighborhood youth arriving home late and sneaking in through her upstairs window.
2. A dog let loose from the backyard of one of Sam’s neighbors peeing on every bush in Sam’s yard.
3. An elderly neighbor stealing Sam’s newspaper.
4. An improperly registered van going twelve miles over the speed limit at three thirty-seven in the morning.
5. Other varied suburban moments that Sam dismissed calmly internally, while thanking the Asset for his faithful watch.
When the bacon was cooked and the oatmeal was done, Sam set two places and motioned for the Asset to sit. The Asset, however, did not.
“Man, come on. Food’s getting cold.”
Sam waited and watched the internal war as the Asset struggled between his desire to keep standing and his intense need to do what Sam wanted him to do. He felt like he ought to feel bad for manipulating another man that way, but hey. He was getting the guy to eat.
Eventually, grudgingly, the Asset sat, and picked up a spoon. Sam grinned and toasted him with his orange juice.
They ate in relative silence, the Asset being not particularly prone to using words more than absolutely necessary, and Sam needing some time to process what his life was and where it was all heading. After a few minutes of this, though, Sam broke.
“You need a name,” he said, before shoveling another spoonful of oatmeal in his mouth. “Also some brown sugar. Come on, man, watching you eat that plain is doing things to my soul.”
The Asset sat and blinked at him, before eating another spoonful of completely plain oatmeal. He hadn’t even touched the bacon.
Sam picked up some brown sugar, and, telegraphing his movements, sprinkled just a little onto the Asset’s oatmeal. The Asset watched his hand carefully and with great suspicion before, stopping to glare up at Sam, he took a bite of oatmeal with the sugar on it.
The muffled squeak that came out of the Asset’s mouth made Sam’s day. No, his year.
“Seriously, man,” Sam carried on, “you can’t just go by Asset. First of all, it’s too close to Asshat, which we both know you’re not, and second of all you’re a person, and people have names.”
The Asset looked uncomfortably close to debating Sam on this point, so Sam started gesturing at him with bacon, which had the desired effect of making the Asset back off like Sam might make him try to eat it next.
“What do you think? Jacob? Kenny? Ron? Dick?”
The Asset looked like he was having an emotion, which, hey, was kind of progress. Unfortunately the emotion appeared to be annoyance.
“I think you look like a Jack, personally.”
The Asset was visibly offended by this, though he seemed confused about the source of his frustration. Finally, he spoke up. “I don’t remember my name,” he said.
Sam smiled softly, his tone gentling. “Yeah,” he said. “I figured that. But you need a name. So what do you want to be called? Something that’s just you?”
The Asset shrugged. “My handlers have never asked me that before. Can I…” He trailed off. Then gaining courage again, he carried on, “Can I think about it?”
“Yeah, man,” Sam said. “You can think about it.”
*
It wasn’t that Sam didn’t trust the Asset alone in his house all day. If one thing was for sure, it was that the last thing Sam was expecting right now was for the Asset to rob him.
It was more an issue of him not anticipating that leaving the Asset alone in his house would work. For better or worse, the Asset was sticking to him like glue. And hey, if this meant that Sam was going to get a free shadow for a day’s worth of group therapy sessions, there were worse things that could happen. The only issue would be the individual counseling sessions. He just hoped he could convince the Asset to wait outside for those.
Also, Sam had an idea.
Making a casual detour on the way into the building to stop by June’s desk, Sam led the Asset up through the warren of staircases and hallways to the broomcloset he called his office. It had his name on the door and a desk and little else, but he figured it was the perfect place to give the Asset his gift.
He waited until the Asset had resumed his general stance of parade rest before presenting him with the book he’d taken from June – a catalogue of baby names. “June writes romance novels,” he explained. “And she likes using this to name the characters. Figured it would help you.”
The Asset took the book gingerly and slowly opened a page. “Aaron,” he read out. “I don’t feel like an Aaron.”
“You’ve got a whole book,” Sam said. “Keep going until you find one that feels right. Or just one you like. They have meanings in there and everything. You can even switch it up if you want.”
The Asset nodded and looked down at the book. For a long moment, the room was still save for the shuffling of papers as Sam prepared for the day. Then –
“Thank you,” the Asset said.
Sam smiled.