“I bet you’ve seen that with other clients,” she said.

I didn’t correct her. I just nodded.

She said she liked ambling around her yard and watching Pierre run in circles, chase after squirrels, and dig at the fence, convinced he could overtake the rooster on the other side.

“I hear that thing every morning, as if we’re on a farm and not in the suburbs,” she said.

The coffee table was strewn with sweated-through to-go cups and empty water bottles. A pile of Jolly Rancher wrappers lay in front of her. She caught me staring.

“I know the forms I filled out say I have diabetes. A side effect of the medication—can you imagine? I don’t give a shit.”

“I wouldn’t, either,” I said.

She looked at me and winked. We were on the same team. She eyed Lorraine, sizing her up to see if she should join, too.

“You said last time that you were getting a home-care bed,” Lorraine said.

“That’s coming. Don’t rush me,” Daphne said. “They’re delivering it next week. Medicare has to approve it. There isn’t a fucking thing in my life they don’t approve now.”

“It’s in their best interest to keep people hanging on,” Lorraine said.

“They’re sapping me of my will to live,” Daphne said. “Deliver me upstairs already.”

“We have some things to get through first,” Lorraine said.

“I know, I know, I know,” Daphne said, waving Lorraine away.

Pierre came wagging into the room, and his tail knocked over some empty water bottles.

“Would you mind letting him out?” Daphne asked Lorraine as I hung back and forced myself not to start tidying up the room. Daphne must have sensed it, because she told me she had someone who came once a week.

“Sit down next to me. Your youth is making me nervous.”

I did what I was told while Lorraine watched Pierre lift his leg. She averted her eyes when his erection came out in full force.

“The poor thing. He just has an unfortunate tic.”

“He’s a good boy,” I said.

She trained her eyes on me.

“I’m Evelyn,” I said, before she could ask.

“Evelyn. Evelyn. What brings you here, Evelyn?”

“You.”

Lorraine came back and handed me the questionnaire and pointed to the question they had left off with. She turned on a tape recorder and placed it next to some anesthesia aftercare paperwork that had been thoroughly highlighted and underlined for emphasis.

“Who or what occupies your thoughts most often?” I asked.

“Hospitals,” Daphne said.