Gretchen and Jason hug and she starts talking to him right away, about one of the Swans who’s just come back from Boston and his final round of chemo. She doesn’t seem to have seen me. I know she has a thing for Jason. Whether they ever did anything, before I came or whatever, I never asked, and he never mentioned. Neither did Rose, and if anyone would have known, she would. Anyway, it’s none of my business. It’s not like he’s exactly my boyfriend. He’s more like a period, something that happens to my vagina once a month. No, that’s mean. I’m just trying to say I don’t feel possessive about him, that’s all. He’s a friend, an imaginary boyfriend at best. My life is way too fucked up for anything serious anyway, and he never, like, pops out to Swan for a visit. Obviously. But maybe this time he could stay. Just sleep over, I mean. If he feels like it. No big deal.

“Mind the cat, dear,” Gretchen says to me out of nowhere. While I’m still trying to process what she said, I actually do trip over the cat and only just catch myself before my chin hits the floor. Gretchen and Jason help me up—it feels like being confused is making my body heavier, and it’s weird when something simple like getting up becomes a three-person job. Sexy, real sexy. Whenever Jason’s around I become the clumsiest person in town, which is saying something.

It’s Germaine, the obnoxious little monster Joanna brought back from the Bad Place last month along with the new defibrillator machine. It looks like a toy tiger, almost cartoonishly orange with black stripes, and it turns to growl and hiss at me through its squashed face with one wet fang poking down out of one side of its mouth. They say that contact with an animal reduces blood pressure; I hope it works for the Wrinklies better than it has for me.

Hit the nail on the head with the name; that cat’s a Germaine if I ever saw one. Luckily, before I asked why they didn’t get a kitten instead of Snaggle Tooth here, I realized exactly why. We don’t worship youth here, cuteness is not a virtue, inexperience isn’t an excuse, naivete is tedious. I almost tell the Rose-voice in my head, Yeah, yeah, I get it. Not a kitten. A cat.

“You okay?” Jason asks.

“Yeah. Just embarrassed.” I try to whisper so it can be between us, but it doesn’t work and Gretchen kind of giggle-coughs. At the doorway to her office, she takes the package of pills and potions Jason brought over, places it on her desk, and locks the door behind her. She’s really pretty.

We climb the stairs and go past the Duchess’s room. Clack, bleep, suck, drop.