Moth

“Because you feel responsible somehow. You think there’s something you could have done, that you should have noticed something was wrong. But none of us can be responsible for other people and their lives, Lewis. At your advanced age, you should know that.”

She was right.

I should.

I looked over at her, noticing now that her dress was torn under the arm. Her eyes were amazingly clear, and she was smiling. I tried to remember if I’d ever seen her smile before.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The crows swept in that next day, dropping onto us out of a bright, clear sky.

I sat looking out on that day from an alcove tucked away at the end of the hall. Even the clouds shone with what seemed their own internal white light.

Two were older, one of them about my age, another sixtyish with silver hair and eyebrows like frosted hedges. With them was a lank man in his midtwenties whose law degree from Tulane had gained him the enviable position of carrying their briefcase. He was dressed like the others in dark three-piece suit and rep tie, but had a haircut reminiscent of old British films. A forelock kept falling into his face; he kept brushing it away with two fingers.

They came off the elevator in V formation and marched almost in step to the nurses’ station, where Eyebrows announced that they were here to see Miss Alouette Guidry, presently going under the name of (he glanced at Haircut, who fed it to him) McTell.

Jane asked if they were relatives.

“We are attorneys retained by the girl’s father to represent her.” He made a slight hand motion over his shoulder and Haircut dealt her a business card.

“Hmmm,” Jane said. She picked up the phone, spoke into it briefly, hung up. “Alouette doesn’t wish to see you,” she said.

“I’m afraid that is not satisfactory, young lady.”

“Probably not, but unless you gentlemen have further business, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“What is your name, young lady?”

She pointed to the nametag prominently displayed on her uniform front.

“Then I suppose we must ask to speak with your superior. A supervisor? The physician legally responsible for this unit, perhaps?”

It played out from there, the ball rolling on to a head nurse, an intern and then his resident, and finally to the walleyed young man I’d seen in the administrative offices, who came off the elevator blinking.

“We’re here-” Eyebrows began as he disembarked.

“I know why you’re here, Mr. Eason.”

He patiently explained to them, as had all the others, that Alouette was in her majority; that she, not her father, was the patient here, and the only one whose medical or other needs concerned them at this time; and that, should they wish to pursue the matter, they might best proceed in appropriate fashion through proper channels, as they undoubtedly knew, and stop badgering the hospital’s employees, taking them away from what could well be urgent duties elsewhere.

“I don’t know about Louisiana, gentlemen, but we take our patients’ rights seriously here in Tennessee. And now, you will please leave.”

As though on cue, the elevator doors opened and two security guards stepped off. They stood at either side of the doors as the lawyer trio climbed aboard, then got in with them. The doors shut.

“Jane, let me know at once if there’s any further problem,” the administrator said, then, turning, saw me sitting in the alcove and came over.

“Mr. Griffin.” He held out his hand. I stood, and we shook. “I know about yesterday, of course. We’re all rather glad you are here.”

“Right now, we’re all rather glad you’re here.”

He looked puzzled a moment, then said, “Oh, that. We’re used to it. They’re serious, or have half a leg to stand on, they’ve already been to a judge and have paper. Otherwise, it’s just a pissing contest.”

“Still, it’s appreciated.”

“What I do.”

“Think they’ll be back?”

“Up here? No. But we’ll be seeing more of them downstairs, I expect. I wouldn’t worry about it. Meanwhile, if there’s anything I can do to help Alouette, or you, please let me know.”

We shook hands again. He took out a key and pushed it into the control plate beside the elevator doors; within moments, a car was there. He nodded to me as the door closed.

I sat watching pigeons strut along the sill outside, past locked windows. One was an albino, wings and tail so ragged it was hard to believe the bird could still fly.

A moment later Jane answered the phone and said to me, “They’re ready, Mr. Griffin.” I thanked her and walked down the hall to a conference room. Sitting at the table inside were Alouette and Mickey Francis. The social worker held a styrofoam cup, rim well chewed.

“Thanks for coming, Mr. Griffin. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

“No thanks.”

“I called you to come in because Alouette asked me to. I hope it’s not an inconvenience.”

“Not at all. Nothing much going on at the motel this time of day.”

Uncertain whether or not that was a joke, she settled on a smile. Waited two beats. I thought of other such interviews, in rooms much like this one, when I myself was on the home team.

“She and I have talked a lot about what happened yesterday. And over the past several months. I know the two of you have discussed her plans once she’s released. Treatment programs, halfway houses, that sort of thing. We all feel it’s imperative that she get follow-up care.”

“I think she agrees.”

“She does. And the time for us to shape these decisions is fast approaching.”

“Not us, Miss Francis. It’s her decision all the way.”

“You’re right, of course.” She looked down at the stack of folders on the table before her. “Alouette has expressed to me a desire to go back to New Orleans. Not to remain here.”

I nodded. It was home, after all, whatever else it was.

“She would like to find a job, to live independently while participating in an outpatient program.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“She was wondering if you might be willing to give her a place to live while she did this. She would like to come back to New Orleans with you, Mr. Griffin.”

I looked at Alouette. She nodded. “Yes, Lewis. That’s what I want. If it’s all right with you. I know it’s a lot to ask.”

“You can think about it, Mr. Griffin. You don’t have to decide right away. This must come as something of a surprise.”

“I’m not much of a role model,” I said, “but that house has always been too big for me alone. It would be good to have someone else living there again.”

Alouette looked down at the floor a moment, then up at me, smiling. With her mother’s eyes.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Ad Hominem time.

The following Thursday at nine in the morning, I arrived at the hospital to take Alouette home, stepped off