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"You can't just stand there until she wakes up, senor," the nurse said. "Sit down, put your feet on this, and try to get a little sleep."
How the hell am I going to be able to sleep?
"Muchas gracias."
He sat in the folding chair, put his feet on the plastic chair, and when he was reasonably sure the nurse wasn't watching, put his hand up so that he could touch Betty's shoulder. Castillo opened his eyes.
Jack Britton was standing beside him, extending a coffee mug.
Castillo took the mug as a reflex action.
"What time is it?" he asked.
"Quarter to nine," Britton said. "Time for you to change shirts, shave, and head for the cathedral."
"Jesus Christ! I should be in San Isidro. Why the hell didn't you wake me?"
"All you were going to do, Charley, was get in the way in San Isidro," Britton said. "I talked to Santini. He said to let you sleep."
Castillo got up, knocking the plastic chair over as he did.
"Your electric razor and a clean shirt's in the bathroom," Britton said, and walked out of the room.
Castillo looked down at Betty.
Her eyes were open, and she was pale but no longer gray.
"Hello, baby," Castillo said.
Betty made a grunt that could have meant, "Hi."
"How do you feel?"
Betty rolled her eyes, and then touched the bandages on her face and then made grunting sounds that after a moment he understood meant, "Can't talk."
"Sweetheart, you're going to be all right."
Betty pointed to the chair and grunted. When he looked confused, she repeated the grunts.
"I snore?" he asked.
She nodded.
"I love you," Charley said.
Betty nodded.
He bent over her and very gently kissed her on the lips.
More grunts, but this time he easily made the translation: "Wiener schnitzel."
"You took three hits," Castillo said. "You're going to be all right. Either tomorrow or the next day, you're goingto Philadelphia on the Gulfstream. Jack will be with you."
She nodded, then grunted, "Roger?"
"He didn't make it, baby. He went out quick."
Tears ran down her cheeks into the bandages.
