was hard, plated with anger.
I kept quiet.
“Well,” she said, “I suppose I’d better attend to business.”
I got up. She walked me to the door. “Thank you for coming, Dr.
Delaware.”
“If there’s anything I can do-” “That’s very kind, but I’m certain I’ll
be able to handle things as they come up.”
She opened the door.
I said goodbye and the door closed behind me.
I began walking toward the Seville. The gardening noises had died and
the street was beautiful and silent.
When I entered room sosW Cassie followed me with her eyes but the rest
of her didn’t move.
The drapes were drawn, and yellow light came from the halfopen door of
the bathroom. I saw wet clothes hanging over the shower rod. The bed
rails were down and the room had the gluey smell of old bandages.
A metered I.V line was still attached to Cassie’s left arm. Clear
fluid from a hanging bottle slow-dripped through the tubing. The whirr
of the I.V meter seemed louder. LuvBunnies surrounded Cassie. An
untouched breakfast tray sat on the table.
I said, “Hi, sweetie.”
She gave a small smile, closed her eyes, and moved her head back and
forth the way a blind child might.
Cindy came out of the bathroom and said, “Hi, Dr. Delaware.”
Her braid was gathered atop her head and her blouse was untucked.
“Hi. How’re you managing?”
“Okay.”
I sat on the edge of Cassies bed. Cindy came over and stood next to
me. The pressure of my weight made Cassie’s eyes open again. I smiled
at her, touched her fingers. Her stomach rumbled and she shut her eyes
once more. Her lips were dry and chapped. A small scrap of dead skin
hung from the upper one. Each breath ruffled it.
I took her free hand. She didn’t resist. Her skin was warm and silky,
soft as a dolphin’s belly.
I said, “Such a good girl,” and saw her eyes move behind the lids.
“We had a rough night,” said Cindy.
“I know. Sorry to hear it.” I looked down at the hand in mine.
No new wounds but plenty of old ones. The thumbnail was tiny,
square-edged, in need of cleaning. I exerted gentle pressure and the
digit rose, remained extended for a moment, then lowered, tapping the
op of my hand. I repeated the pressure and the same thing happened.
But her eyes remained shut and her face had grown loose.
ithin moments she was sleeping, breathing in time with the I.V drip.
Cindy reached down and stroked her daughter’s cheek. One of the
bunnies fell to the floor. She picked it up and placed it next to the
breakfast tray. The tray was farther away than she’d estimated and the
movement threw her off balance. I caught her elbow and held it.
Through the sleeve of her blouse, her arm was thin and pliable. I let
go of it but she held on to my hand for a moment.
I noticed worry lines around her eyes and mouth, saw where aging would
take her. Our eyes met. Hers were full of wonder and fear. She
stepped away from me and went to sit on the sleeper couch.
I said, “What’s been happening?” though I’d read the chart before
coming in.
“Sticks and tests,” she said. All kinds of scans. She didn’t get any
dinner until late and couldn’t hold it down.”
“Poorthing.”
She bit her lip. “Dr. Eves says the appetite loss is either anxiety
or some sort of reaction to the isotopes they used in the scans.”
“That sometimes happens,” I said. “Especially when there are a lot of
tests and the isotopes build up in the system.”
She nodded. “She’s pretty tired. I guess you can’t draw with her
today.”
“Guess not.”
“It’s too bad-the way it worked out. You didn’t have time to do your
techniques.”
“How’d she tolerate the procedures?”
Actually, she was so tired-after the grand mal-that she was kind of
passive.
She looked over at the bed, turned away quickly, and put the palms of
her hands on the sofa, propping herself up.
Our eyes met again. She stifled a yawn and said, “Excuse me.”