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11/18/63 (Monday)
The DAVIN nurses, one old and formidable, the other young and pretty, arrived at 9:00 A.M. sharp.
They did their thing. When the older one felt that I had grimaced, twitched, and moaned enough, she
handed me a paper envelope with two pills in it. “Pain.”
“I don’t really think—”
“Take em,” she said—a woman of few words. “Freebies.”
I popped them in my mouth, cheeked them, swallowed water, then excused myself to use the
bathroom. There I spat them out.
When I returned to the kitchen, the older nurse said: “Good progress. Don’t overdo.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Catch them?”
“Beg pardon?”
“The assholes who beat you up.”
“Uh . . . not yet.”
“Doing something you shouldn’t have been doing?”
I gave her my widest smile, the one Christy used to say made me look like a game-show host on
crack. “I don’t remember.”
5
Dr. Ellerton came for lunch, bringing huge roast beef sandwiches, crispy french fries dripping in
grease, and the promised milkshakes. I ate as much as I could manage, which was really quite a lot.
My appetite was returning.
“Mike talked up the idea of doing yet another variety show,” he said. “This time to benefit you. In
the end, wiser heads prevailed. A small town can only give so much.” He lit a cigarette, dropped the
match into the ashtray on the table, and inhaled with gusto. “Any chance the police will catch the
mugs who tuned up on you? What do you hear?”
“Nothing, but I doubt it. They cleaned out my wallet, stole my car, and split.”
“What were you doing on that side of Dallas, anyway? It’s not exactly the high-society part of
town.”
Well, apparently I lived there.
“I don’t remember. Visiting someone, maybe.”
“Are you getting plenty of rest? Not straining the knee too much?”
“No.” Although I suspected I’d be straining it plenty before much longer.
“Still falling asleep suddenly?”
“That’s quite a bit better.”
“Terrific. I guess—”
The phone rang. “That’ll be Sadie,” I said. “She calls on her lunch break.”
“I have to be shoving off, anyway. It’s great to see you putting on weight, George. Say hello to the
pretty lady for me.”
I did so. She asked me if any pertinent memories were coming back. I knew by her delicate phrasing
that she was calling from the school’s main office—and would have to pay Mrs. Coleridge for the
long-distance when she was done. Besides keeping the DCHS exchequer, Mrs. Coleridge had long ears.
I told her no, no new memories, but I was going to take a nap and hope something would be there
when I woke up. I added that I loved her (it was nice to say something that was the God’s honest),