number. If he doesn’t answer, one of the nurses will
pick up the line and wake him. But,” she added in a
disapproving tone, “I think it’s a bad idea.”
Judith ignored her cousin and punched in Mr.
Mummy’s number. It rang six times before a woman
answered.
“Excuse me,” Judith said, trying not to notice
Renie’s critical expression, “is Mr. Mummy in Room
322 sleeping?”
“I don’t think so,” the nurse replied. “When I looked
in on him five minutes ago, he wasn’t there.”
“What is this?” Judith railed after hanging up the
phone. “Musical beds? First Joe, now Mr. Mummy.”
“The nurse didn’t say that Mr. Mummy was moved,
did she?” Renie said in a reasonable tone. “Maybe he’s
just wandering around, trying to settle down for the
night.”
“On a broken leg?” Judith shot back. “No, coz. Mr.
Mummy may be doing some snooping of his own.”
“To what purpose?” Renie responded.
Judith was brooding. “I don’t know. I wish I’d asked
Woody to check out Mr. Mummy.”
“You think he’s a crook?” Renie asked, stifling a
yawn.
“I don’t know what to think,” Judith replied, “except
that he’s a phony.”
Renie’s eyes were half closed. “At this point, I don’t
care if Mr. Mummy is really Fidel Castro. Take that
damned Valium and knock yourself out. I’m going to
sleep.” She turned off the bedside lamp.
For several minutes, Judith lay with arms folded
across her chest, face set in a stubborn line, and worrisome thoughts racing through her brain like mice in a
SUTURE SELF
259
maze. But though her mind was active, her body betrayed her. Weariness tugged at every muscle, every
sinew, and, finally, at her eyelids. She reached for the
little cup with its little pill, but her hand failed. Judith
fell asleep with the light still burning by her bed.
The sounds and smells of the morning routine
were becoming all too familiar to Judith. The food
arriving in the big steel carts, the cleaning crew’s
disinfectant, the clatter of breakfast trays, the soft
padding of the nurses in the hallway, the incessant
announcements over the PA system—all had piqued
Judith’s curiosity at first. But on this Thursday, the
fourth day at Good Cheer, they were nothing more
than a tiresome reminder of her confinement and
concerns. Her first thought was of Joe. She fumbled
for the phone as Renie got out of bed and went over
