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Cloud swallowed hard. She could have corrected this earnest-looking young woman, told her that Dorothy had died in 1973, but really, who cared? “Go away,” she said, wishing she could lift a hand to gesture. She was afraid to reveal how shaky she was. You never wanted to show weakness in a hospital. One wrong move and you could find yourself in the psych ward.
“I’m Dr. Karen Moody. I don’t know if you remember, but you tried to hit one of the paramedics who brought you in here. ”
Cloud sighed. “You’re here to eval me. Let me make it easy: I’m not a threat to myself or others. If I lashed out it was an accident. ”
“I take it this isn’t your first psych evaluation. You know the rules. ”
Cloud shrugged.
“I’ve got your medical records, Dorothy. And I’ve spoken to the police. It all tells quite a story. ”
Cloud stared at her, saying nothing.
“The number of broken bones is certainly not normal. And I saw the cigarette burns on your collarbone. I’m guessing there are more. ”
“I’m clumsy. ”
The doctor closed the chart. “I doubt that, Dorothy. And I’m guessing you self-medicate to forget. ”
“Is that your way of calling me a drunk and a stoner? If it is, you’re right. I’m both. Have been for decades. ”
The doctor stared down at her, eyes narrowed and assessing. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a card. “Take this, Dorothy. I work at a rehab facility. If you’re ready to change your life, I’d like to help you. ”
Cloud took the card, studied it. “I guess you know who my daughter is. You figure she’ll pay for anything. ”
“I want to help you, Dorothy. That’s what I do. ”
“Why? Why would you want to help me?”
The doctor slowly lifted her sleeve.
Cloud saw the series of small, puckering pink starburst scars that coiled up the dark flesh. Cigarette burns. “I know about drinking to forget. ”
Cloud didn’t know what to say.
“It stops working. Well, actually, it never worked, but after a while the drinking makes it worse. I know. I could help you. Or I’d like to try. It’s up to you. ”
Cloud watched the woman walk out of the hospital room and shut the door behind her. In the quiet darkness, she found it difficult to breathe. She hadn’t thought about those scars in years.
Sit still, damn it, you know you have this coming.
She swallowed hard. On the wall in front of her, the clock ticked forward the minutes. It was 12:01. Just past midnight.
A new day.
She closed her eyes and fell asleep.
* * *
Someone was touching her, stroking her forehead.
It had to be a dream.
She forced her gritty eyes open. At first there was only darkness. Then, gradually, her good eye adjusted. She saw the charcoal square of a window, with a pale exterior light casting a golden glow into her room. The door was open; beyond it, the nurses’ station was brightly lit and quiet.
It was the middle of the night. She could tell by the quiet.
“Hey,” someone said.
