“How are things with you?” Seth mumbled as Leeza argued with a gender-reassigned plumber who had cleavage.

“Don’t you worry about me,” Hammer firmly said, patting him again. “All that matters right now is that you get better. Think positively, honey. The mind affects everything. No negativity.”

This was like telling the dark side of the moon to lighten up a bit. Seth stared at her. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d called him honey. Maybe never.

“I don’t know what to say,” he told her.

She knew precisely what he meant. He was poisoned by remorse and guilt and shame. He had set out to ruin her life and the lives of his children and was getting good at it. He ought to feel like shit, if the truth was told.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Hammer gently reassured him. “What’s done is done. Now we move on. When you leave here, we’re going to get you some help. That’s all that matters now.”

He shut his eyes and tears swam behind the lids. He saw a young man in baggy white trousers and bow tie and snappy hat, grinning and happy on a sunny morning as he skipped down the granite steps of the Arkansas state capitol. Seth had been charming and sure of himself once. He had known how to have fun and party with the rest of them and tell funny tales. Psychiatrists had tried Prozac, Zoloft, Nortriptylene, and lithium. Seth had been on diets. He had stopped drinking once. He had been hypnotized and had gone to three meetings of Overeaters Anonymous. Then he had quit all of it.

“There’s no hope,” he sobbed to his wife. “Nothing left but to die.”

“Don’t you dare say that,” she said, her voice wavering. “You hear me, Seth? Don’t you dare say that!”

“Why isn’t my love enough for you!” he cried.

“What love?” She stood, anger peeking around her curtain of self-control. “Your idea of love is waiting for me to make you happy while you do nothing for yourself. I am not your caretaker. I am not your zookeeper. I am not your innkeeper. I am not your keeper, period.” She was pacing furiously in his small private room. “I am supposed to be your partner, Seth, your friend, your lover. But you know what? If this were tennis, I’d be playing goddamn singles in a goddamn doubles match on both sides of the net while you sat in the shade hogging all the balls and keeping your own private score!”

Brazil had spent the better part of the morning wondering if he should call West to see if she wanted to play some tennis. That would be innocent enough, wouldn’t it? The last thing he wanted was to give her the satisfaction of thinking he cared a hoot that he hadn’t heard from her in three and a half days. He parked at the All Right lot on West Trade near Presto’s and went inside the grill for coffee, starved, but saving himself for something healthy. Later, he’d drop by the Just Fresh, the eat well feels good fast food restaurant in the atrium of First Union. That and Wendy’s grilled chicken filet sandwiches with no cheese or mayonnaise were about all he lived on these days, and he was losing weight. He secretly wondered if he were getting anorexic.