The Illusion of Separateness by Simon van Booy

and blinked a few times. “How long was I out?”
    “Not long, maybe forty minutes.”
    “You should have woken me up.”
    “Never,” Danny said.
    “What did you do while I was asleep?”
    “I was remembering this neighbor I had growing up.”
    “Your neighbor in Scotland?”
    “No, when I was seven or eight. He was the neighbor in Manchester—the city where I was born. He seemed old to me then, but was probably only sixty. His head was deformed, and he spoke with a sort of muted voice. The people on our street called him the elephant man.”
    “Jesus, that’s unkind.”
    Danny nodded. “I think my mother would remember him, but I hadn’t thought of him in years until lately.”
    “Tell me more.”
    “He grew tomatoes and left them on our doorstep.”
    “But you hate tomatoes.”
    Danny smiled. “I also think he taught me to read.”
    “Really?” she asked.
    “I saw some infomercial in the middle of the night last month and it reminded me of some of the things we did together.”
    “An infomercial for what, Danny?”
    “Games for kids who are dyslexic.”
    “Are you dyslexic?”
    Danny looked at her blankly for a few moments. He had always been a slow reader, and remembered the frustration in school when teachers thought he was lazy.
    Raquel handed him a tissue.
    “Jack and now you,” she said with a smirk. “What a pair of crybabies.”
    Raquel asked if Danny was in contact with this old neighbor.
    “He’ll have passed away by now, I’m sure,” Danny said. “And these things always mean more to children, don’t they?”
    “Look him up,” Raquel said. “Ask Preston to make some calls.”
    Danny shrugged. “It was all over thirty years ago, and he was pushing sixty then.”
    “It won’t hurt to try.”
    When it was almost time to go, Danny leaned down and kissed Raquel’s head. “You’re so very special, do you know that?”
    Somebody passed her room with a trolley.
    “If he’s alive, he will remember you,” she whispered. “I guarantee it meant more to him than you think.”
    Then a nurse knocked and came in. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
    “No, not at all,” Danny said. “I was going to leave soon.”
    The nurse checked the machines, and chatted to Raquel about tomorrow’s procedures. Danny stood and watched her arrange the sheets. Then she bent down and picked up the empty tote bag.
    “Fox Searchlight Pictures,” she said, reading the side of the bag. “That’s my son’s dream.”
    Raquel leaned forward and the nurse did something to her pillow.
    “He’s got it in his mind,” she went on, “that he’s going to be the next big thing—a Hollywood director. He’s saving up to go to school for it and everything. My husband told him it’s not practical. He should study business or computers or something.”
    “Danny is a famous film director,” Raquel said brightly.
    “Oh?” the nurse asked, adjusting the shades. “What’s your name? I’ll tell him I met you.”
    When Raquel’s face caught a few rays of sunset, Danny saw just how ill she was.
    O n the way out he stopped in to see the nurse. She was drinking soda with a straw and watching something in Spanish.
    “Here’s my card,” Danny said. “Have your son call to set up a meeting at my office.”
    “Are you kidding?”
    “Just have him call my office.”
    She put her soda can down and stood up.
    “Oh, mister, is there anything I can do for you? That’s so nice of you, I can’t believe it. You’re going to help my son.”
    “Just get her better,” Danny said. “Just get her better, because without her we’re all finished.”
    A fter feeding the dogs, he stayed up and went through boxes of old photographs. A few of the pictures made him cry, because he remembered how it felt to be a child.
    After eating a sandwich, he made a list of all the people who had ever loved him. He put it on the refrigerator and read it out loud.
    In the morning, he swam in the pool with his dogs, then sat at the