medallion and the kiss on the cheek. Maybe she thought: This
guy wants to see me bust loose. Okay, I'll bust loose. Here we go. Busting
Loose, Take One."
"No, she was genuine. I can tell genuine
anger."
"She's an actress.''
"Would she do that?" Dan frowned as
he held the door to the dining hall for her.
"I'm probably wrong." Why spoil his
day? she thought. "Your glasses are still cockeyed."
As they joined the food line, Marcia looked
around the patients' section and saw Preston sitting with Lewis and Hector and someone she didn't know.
She said to Dan, "What's your new one
like? The beanpole over there."
"Duke? A lulu. He's still locked up in
his bad space. But I’ll reach him. I'm pretty sure he felt the love
today."
"I wish mine was a lulu. They're down in
black and white. They try to deny they've got a problem, you show them the
court order. I've got myself William F. Buckley, Jr."
"No kidding?" Dan looked over his
shoulder.
"You know what I mean. Ivy League. Smart.
Articulate. This whole unpleasant business is all a ghastly mistake."
''They 're protected.''
"Genetically and socially. They don't do
the real colorful stuff, don't get arrested, don't stab somebody, almost never
end up in the gutter. They don't bottom out. Denial's real easy."
Dan took some pears on a bed of wilted
lettuce. "Even when they die of it, the obit says 'congestive heart
failure' or 'a long illness.' " He picked up a bowl of chopped apples and
nuts and put it on her tray.
"Don't do that!" she hissed.
"You like fruit. You put fruit on your
cereal every morning,"
"That's at home. This is here. Here we're
colleagues, nothing more. You don't know squat about me except for lunch."
Dan grinned and shook his head. "You're
paranoid."
"Bet your honky ass I'm paranoid. I like
my job. I'd like to keep it."
"Lecture time," Lewis said as he
piled his plates on his tray.
Preston had
been smoking a cigarette with his coffee, watching Marcia and the other
counselor go through the line. He saw the guy put something on her tray, saw
she didn't like that. Interesting. Is there something going on there? He wanted
to ask Lewis, but Lewis was already walking to the line of people waiting to
pass their dirty dishes through the window into the kitchen. He stacked his
dishes and got up.
He stood in line behind Lewis, who was behind
Cheryl.
When Cheryl passed her tray through the
window, the matronly scullion looked at the untouched food and leaned down and
said to Cheryl, "You gotta eat, child. Else, you never get well."
Cheryl said, "I didn't feel so
good," and she turned away.
Lewis waited for Preston to dispose of his tray, and they walked
together toward the door.
''Everybody seems 'up' here," Preston said. "Everybody but her." He
pointed ahead to Cheryl.
Lewis nodded. "Poor baby. She's
twenty-two. She's got cirrhosis. They've already done two liver biopsies, and
the tissue they got was dead both times. They want to do another one, but she's
terrified that if they pull another dead plug it'll be her death sentence. You
can live with half your liver gone, even two thirds, but if three quarters is
nothing but scar tissue, then it's just a question of when."
"How do you get cirrhosis at
twenty-two?"
guy wants to see me bust loose. Okay, I'll bust loose. Here we go. Busting
Loose, Take One."
"No, she was genuine. I can tell genuine
anger."
"She's an actress.''
"Would she do that?" Dan frowned as
he held the door to the dining hall for her.
"I'm probably wrong." Why spoil his
day? she thought. "Your glasses are still cockeyed."
As they joined the food line, Marcia looked
around the patients' section and saw Preston sitting with Lewis and Hector and someone she didn't know.
She said to Dan, "What's your new one
like? The beanpole over there."
"Duke? A lulu. He's still locked up in
his bad space. But I’ll reach him. I'm pretty sure he felt the love
today."
"I wish mine was a lulu. They're down in
black and white. They try to deny they've got a problem, you show them the
court order. I've got myself William F. Buckley, Jr."
"No kidding?" Dan looked over his
shoulder.
"You know what I mean. Ivy League. Smart.
Articulate. This whole unpleasant business is all a ghastly mistake."
''They 're protected.''
"Genetically and socially. They don't do
the real colorful stuff, don't get arrested, don't stab somebody, almost never
end up in the gutter. They don't bottom out. Denial's real easy."
Dan took some pears on a bed of wilted
lettuce. "Even when they die of it, the obit says 'congestive heart
failure' or 'a long illness.' " He picked up a bowl of chopped apples and
nuts and put it on her tray.
"Don't do that!" she hissed.
"You like fruit. You put fruit on your
cereal every morning,"
"That's at home. This is here. Here we're
colleagues, nothing more. You don't know squat about me except for lunch."
Dan grinned and shook his head. "You're
paranoid."
"Bet your honky ass I'm paranoid. I like
my job. I'd like to keep it."
"Lecture time," Lewis said as he
piled his plates on his tray.
Preston had
been smoking a cigarette with his coffee, watching Marcia and the other
counselor go through the line. He saw the guy put something on her tray, saw
she didn't like that. Interesting. Is there something going on there? He wanted
to ask Lewis, but Lewis was already walking to the line of people waiting to
pass their dirty dishes through the window into the kitchen. He stacked his
dishes and got up.
He stood in line behind Lewis, who was behind
Cheryl.
When Cheryl passed her tray through the
window, the matronly scullion looked at the untouched food and leaned down and
said to Cheryl, "You gotta eat, child. Else, you never get well."
Cheryl said, "I didn't feel so
good," and she turned away.
Lewis waited for Preston to dispose of his tray, and they walked
together toward the door.
''Everybody seems 'up' here," Preston said. "Everybody but her." He
pointed ahead to Cheryl.
Lewis nodded. "Poor baby. She's
twenty-two. She's got cirrhosis. They've already done two liver biopsies, and
the tissue they got was dead both times. They want to do another one, but she's
terrified that if they pull another dead plug it'll be her death sentence. You
can live with half your liver gone, even two thirds, but if three quarters is
nothing but scar tissue, then it's just a question of when."
"How do you get cirrhosis at
twenty-two?"
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