At 4:10 Robin called to let me know she'd been invited to attend a showcase that night at the Whiskey, a band of thrash-metal heroes brandishing guitars she'd built.
'Would you mind if I passed?' I said.
'If I had a good excuse, I'd pass too. Zero showed up at the site and invited me personally.'
'What time do you think it'll be over?'
'Late.'
'How about if I come by before and we grab some dinner.'
'What about Spike?'
'I can bring takeout.'
'That would be great.'
'When should I get there?'
'Soon as possible.'
I picked up earplugs at a pharmacy in Point Dume and sandwiches and drinks at a deli nearby. It took forty minutes to get to the jobsite. Several trucks were pulling away, and Robin was conferring with a bare-chested man with a tobacco-stained walrus mustache. Nearly bald except for some yellow back fringe and a ponytail, he was concentrating hard as she spoke.
She saw me and waved and continued to talk to him, waving a roll of blueprints. Spike was on the rear bed of her truck, and he stuck his frog face above the tailgate and barked. I went over and lifted him out. He licked my face and waved his forelegs in the air, and when I put him down, he stood up, hugged my knees, and rubbed his head against my leg.
'What a
Robin said, 'Okay, Larry?' in a tone of voice that meant she was working at patience.
'Yes, ma'am.'
'So let's try for inspection by next Monday. If there are any other problems, let me know
'Yes, ma'am. For sure.' Larry looked at me.
'This is Dr. Delaware. He pays the bills.'
'Sir,' said Larry, 'we're fixing up a nice new place for you, you bet.'
'Great,' I said.
He scratched his head, walked up toward the house, and began talking to another worker. The pond was empty and half filled with dirt. What had once been a garden was a muddy pit. The new house's roof points sliced the sky at sharp angles. The sun that showed through was platinum-white.
'What do you think?' she said.
'Very nice.'
'Soon.' She kissed my cheek.
I kept looking at the construction. The framing was complete and the walls had been papered and partially mudded. The mud was ridged with trowel marks and still wet in spots. The original house had been redwood walls and a cedar roof. 'Kindling on a foundation,' the fire marshal had called it. The new building would be stucco and tile. I'd get used to it.
Robin put her arm around me and we walked to the truck. 'Sorry about tonight.'
'Hey, everyone has their emergencies. Here's something for your sanity.'
I gave her the earplugs and she laughed. Pulling down the tailgate, she spread an army blanket and we set out the food. We ate listening to the sounds of hammer guns and saws, feeding Spike bits of sandwich and watching birds circle overhead. Soon, I felt pretty good.
I brought Spike home, fed him dinner, took him for a jog on the beach, and settled him in front of the tube. Then I showered, changed into fresh clothes, and headed for Woodbridge Hospital, making it to the parking lot by seven.
The Psychiatric Unit was on the third floor, behind swinging doors labeled LOCKED. I pressed a buzzer, gave my name, and heard the tumblers click. Pushing, I entered a long well-lit hallway.
The chocolate carpet was freshly vacuumed, the walls a pleasant brownish-white. Ten closed doors on each side, the nursing station at the end. One nurse sat there. Soft conversation came from somewhere, along with television dialogue, radio music, and an occasional ringing phone.
When I got to the station, the nurse said, 'Dr. Delaware… yes, here it is. Lucretia's in 14, that's back there on the left side.' She was very young and had yellow cornrowed hair studded with tiny blue ribbons, and beautiful teeth.
I retraced my steps. Before I got to 14, the door to 18 opened and a small, sweet-faced woman around fifty looked out at me. She wore a pink dress, pearls, and pink pumps. The back wall of her room was covered with family photos, and the aroma of chocolate chip cookies poured out.
'Have a nice day,' she said, smiling.
I smiled back, trying not to look at the bandages around her wrists.
Her door closed and I knocked on Lucy's.
'Come in.'
The room was eight by eight, painted that same brownish-white, with a bed, a fake-wood nightstand, a tiny doorless closet, and a desk and chair that looked child-sized. The TV was mounted high on the wall, the remote control bolted to the nightstand. Next to it was a stack of paperbacks. The top one was entitled
No bathroom. A single immovable window, embedded with metal mesh, offered a view of the parking lot and the supermarket that was the hospital's neighbor.
Lucy sat on the bed, on top of the covers, dressed in jeans and a white button-down shirt. Her sleeves were rolled to the elbow, her hair was pinned up, and her feet were bare. An open magazine rested in her lap. She could have been a college girl relaxing in a dorm room.
'Hi.' She put the magazine aside.
'How's it going?' I said, sitting in the chair.
'I'll be glad to get out of here.'
'They treating you okay?'
'Fine, but it's still prison.'
'I spoke to Dr. Embrey. She seems nice.'
'Nice enough.' Flat voice.
I waited.
'Nothing against her,' she said, 'but I'm not going to have anything to do with her when I get out.'
'Why's that?'
'Because she's too young. How much experience could she have?'
'Did she do or say something to weaken your confidence?'
'No, she's smart enough. It's just her age. And the fact that she's the one who's keeping me in- a jailor's a jailor. Once I'm out, I'm finished with this place and anyone associated with it. Do you think that's foolish?'
'I think you need someone to talk to.'
'What about you?'
I smiled and touched the gray at my temple. 'So I'm old enough for you.'
'You're
