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But where? Where was it?
The bedroom door opened. Sadie looked in. “Jake? Are you asleep?”
“No,” I said. “Just lying quiet.”
“Did you remember anything?”
“No,” I said. “Sorry.”
“There’s still time.”
“Yes. New things are coming back to me every day.”
“Honey, that was Deke. There’s a bug going around school and he’s caught a good case of it. He
asked if I could come in tomorrow and Tuesday. Maybe Wednesday, too.”
“Go in,” I said. “If you don’t, he’ll try to do it himself. And he’s not a young guy anymore.” In my
mind, four words flashed on and off like bar neon: THE WORD OF AL, THE WORD OF AL, THE
WORD OF AL.
She sat down next to me on the bed. “Are you sure?”
“I’ll be fine. Plenty of company, too. DAVIN comes in tomorrow, remember.” DAVIN was Dallas
Area Visiting Nurses. Their main job in my case was to make sure I wasn’t raving, which might
indicate that my brain was bleeding after all.
“Right. Nine o’clock. It’s on the calendar, in case you forget. And Dr. Ellerton—”
“Coming for lunch. I remember.”
“Good, Jake. That’s good.”
“He said he’d bring sandwiches. And milkshakes. Wants to fatten me up.”
“You need fattening up.”
“Plus therapy on Wednesday. Leg-torture in the morning, arm-torture in the afternoon.”
“I don’t like leaving you so close to . . . you know.”
“If something occurs to me, I’ll call you, Sadie.”
She took my hand and bent close enough so I could smell her perfume and the faint aroma of
tobacco on her breath. “Do you promise?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“I’ll be back on Wednesday night at the latest. If Deke can’t come in on Thursday, the library will
just have to stay closed.”
“I’ll be fine.”
She kissed me lightly, started out of the room, then turned back. “I almost hope Deke’s right and
this whole thing is a delusion. I can’t bear the idea that we know and still might not be able to stop it.
That we might just be sitting in the living room and watching on television when somebody—”
“I’ll remember,” I said.
“Will you, Jake?”
“I have to.”
She nodded, but even with the shades drawn, I could read the doubt on her face. “We can still have
supper before I go. You close your eyes and let that pill do its work. Get some sleep.”
I closed my eyes, sure I wouldn’t sleep. And that was okay, because I needed to think about the
Word of Al. After a little while I could smell something cooking. It smelled good. When I’d first
come out of the hospital, still puking or shitting every ten minutes, all smells had revolted me. Now
things were better.
I began to drift. I could see Al sitting across from me in one of the diner booths, his paper cap
tilted over his left eyebrow. Photos of smalltown bigwigs looked down at us, but Harry Dunning was
no longer on the wall. I had saved him. Perhaps the second time I’d saved him from Vietnam, as well.
There was no way to be sure.
Still holding you back, isn’t he, buddy? Al asked.