Stony was puzzled. "He told me he's gonna live with his grandmother in South Carolina."

"He doesn't have a grandmother in South Carolina."

Stony sat silent for a moment, glanced again at the pictures of Mrs. Pitt's family secure in their photo cube.

"Somethin' else. His mother's really upstairs on eight?"

"In psychiatric?" Mrs. Pitt laughed. "Soon as he got into the hospital Mrs. Walcott took off for California. If we ever find her, we'll put her away all right, but not in a hospital, I can promise you that."

***

When Stony got home from work he made a gigantic bee for the phone. "Doctor Harris?"

"Yeah?"

"Hey, howya doin'? This is Stony De Coco."

"Hey, Stony. How's it goin'?"

"It's wild. I did two days' geriatrics, then they switched me to kids."

"Geriatrics? Sorry about that."

"No sweat. The kids is what's happenin' now."

"Good, good."

"Lissen, I wanna thank you, man. It's like I was walkin' aroun' thinkin' the world was flat, you know? There's no way I'm gonna ever do the construction number now."

"Well, that's great, Stony, but—"

"But what?"

"I hope you're strong enough."

"Strong enough for what?" Please don't piss on my fuckin' parade.

"You know what they say, blood's thicker than water."

"Whadya mean?"

"Well, Stony, this whole thing might start some machinery going in your life that, ah, that you might not be ready to handle."

"Like what?"

"Like you might feel you need to leave home."

All of a sudden Stony felt shanghaied. Hustled. "Who's leavin' home?" he shouted.

"I'll tell you, leaving home is the hardest thing in the world."

Stony got the chilling feeling that Harris was enjoying himself. Cat and mouse. "I asked"—Stony tried to control himself—"who's leaving home?"

"You, maybe."

"Whatta you talkin' about?"

"You'll find out soon enough. Hey look, I'm going about this the wrong way. I just want you to know I think it's terrific that things are working out and I have every faith in you following through."

"Lissen, Doctor Harris, maybe this is a bad connection or something, but..."

"Stony, you got a pencil or a pen?"

"Yeah."

"Write down this number ... OL 4–3827. Got that?"

"Yeah."

"O.K. That's my home number. If you ever have any trouble, or if you just want to talk, give me a call."

"What kinda trouble?"

"Maybe none, who knows. How's Albert?"

"He's fine, he's startin' to eat."

"Great. O.K., I got to go. Put that number someplace, O.K.?"

"Yeah, sure." Crazy bastard. Stony slipped the paper with Harris' number under his desk blotter and called Butler.

"Bobby B!"

"Hey, how's the mummies?"

"Fuck that. Dig this! They switched me to kids. It's fuckin' incredible, man, all's I do is tell stories. I dig it, man. I was with two spade kids all afternoon. I was like really relatin' to them. I love it. I mean it's freaky, they're in wheelchairs an' shit, but it's a whole different scene. Butler, I'm poppin'.'" Stony tucked the phone under his chin and lit a cigarette.