“How is she?” Jason asks.

I start to answer but Gretchen gets there first. I guess he was actually talking to her, anyway. I mean, why would he ask me when her doctor’s standing right there?

“Nothing from her for ages, I’m afraid. She hasn’t got long.”

“I’m sorry.” He sounds like he really means it. And I know he does. That’s one of the things I love about Jason. He’d rather be silent than say some stupid bullshit he doesn’t mean, or ask a question he doesn’t care about the answer to just to make noise. Jason’s not afraid to be quiet.

A couple of doors down from the Duchess is Ernie’s room.

“Jason, my main man!” Ernie always calls him that.

“What’s up, Ernie?” They do a complicated little dude handshake and Ernie pulls a newspaper off the table next to his window so Jason can put down his case and start the tour through this week’s selection.

When I first met Jason, I suggested that it would make things easier if everyone just met at the Psychedeli to buy gear instead of making Jason do the whole circuit of Swan. But even all the way out here, the Wrinklies still think it makes sense to be discreet. And anyway, old people really like house calls.

Ernie takes some Swan Silver for his glaucoma and Jason throws in a couple of mushrooms just to be sweet. Joanna says a bong hit’s the only thing that works for her bad back and her arthritic ankle. Louise just likes getting high and goes in for a range, from her cut of the island crop to the ethically murky South American blow. Then she asks what everyone else has picked up so far. When Jason tells her that Johnny and Suzie bought some E, she adds two hits to her order and starts sending Suzie a text message as soon as she’s said goodbye to us.

Gretchen shows us out and says goodbye in this really head-tilty way, which I’m not sure is flirtatious or condescending, or maybe I should check my head and stop being so goddamn paranoid.

Halfway down the steps, Jason gives the hand-holding a second attempt, sliding his palm against mine, lacing our fingers together, giving my hand a little squeeze. “Any luck?”

He means finding my parents.

“Tommy, the friend of theirs who said he’d ask around—I called him every day last week and yesterday he finally answered his fucking phone. Then it took me five minutes to explain who I was and what I was calling about. Then he was all, ‘Oh, right. You’re that kid. You wanted your parents to call you?’ and I was like, ‘Yeah,’ and he’s all, ‘I don’t have their number no more but I can ask around.’ Totally fucking forgot.”

Jason makes a tsk noise and rolls his eyes.