cup runneth under,'
and wonder if this is changing. I hope so. Her hand still strays to her jacket pocket for the Vicodin more than I would like, and that outcome is uncertain, but there are different kinds of pain, and the hurt of loneliness well . . . there are no pills for that one. It swoops down on me from nowhere, not a bat or a dove but something in between. Alan, haunted by the sounds of a shrieking mother. Callie, perfect on the outside, delicately maimed within. Me and my scars. I realize we trade pleasures and pains, back and forth forever, eating our donuts as we search for the glow near the watering hole. And that's okay. That's life. Still the best alternative to death.
'So,' Theresa says, excited. 'Are you going to go get it?'
I grin. 'Right now. I'll meet everyone inside.'
The group heads indoors. They'll be joined before too long by others that are coming. Callie's daughter and grandson. Barry Franklin. People who had been touched by Juan, or who simply wanted to give Sarah hope. People who wanted the cycle to end at Juan. To ensure that Sarah was not, in fact,
I go next door and knock. A moment later, it opens. Jamie Overman is there, and she invites me in. Her husband appears next to her.
'Thanks for doing this,' I tell them. 'And not just this. Thanks for making it possible.'
John is a shy man. He smiles and says nothing. Jamie nods once.
'It's our pleasure. Sam and Linda were good neighbors and good people. Let me get her for you now.'
She wanders off and in a moment she comes back with what I want. Something from the past that I think will give Sarah some hope. I look down at the Hope Giver, something alive from a long dead past. She's older, slower, grayer. But I see a spark of dumb love and expectancy in her eyes that makes me grin.
'Hey there, Doreen,' I say, squatting down so that we're at eye level. She wags her tail and she licks my face.
'Let's go, sweetheart. I want to reintroduce you to someone. She needs you.'
