“I was all like, ‘Whoa, okay, now, Mawmaw, what’d’ya think you’re doing?’ and she fixed me with those big old spooky eyes and stepped right to me and said, ‘Dying, son. I’m dying.’ She said it all serious. I caught the stink of it on her breath. I don’t know if you’ve ever smelled cancer, but it took my own ma. She had breath like that at the end. Death in it. I could smell it on that old lady so damn strong it kinda froze me. Then Lexie said, ‘Mama,’ all quavery and started crying.”

He was so into the story that he’d even stopped glancing at the bill in Marshall’s hand. High as he was, he’d almost forgotten who Marshall was.

Marshall asked, “So what did you do?”

“I did what any man would when his lady friend starts in with the serious waterworks. I got the hell out. Went and shot pool with my buddy Harv, and when I got back, Lex was gone.”

“That’s it?” Marshall said. He acted like he might put the fifty away.

“Hey, now, man, that’s what happened!” Indignant. Eyes back on the bill.

“And you have no idea where she might be now,” Marshall said. Not a question. A statement, flat and thick with disbelief.

Toby licked his lips. “While I was getting my stuff together, putting on some jeans and shoes and such, they was talking. She had a place for Lex all set up, she said. Rehab. Paid for and everything. It had one of those dumb-ass names, like a nature-camp name. Shady Oaks or Oaky Shades or some shit.”

Marshall retracted the bill another inch, and Toby stepped in closer, saying, “And I remember one more thing, though. It was in Tucker. Oak something, for sure in Tucker, Georgia. That woman, her mom, she told Lexie, ‘Before I die, all I want in this whole world is to see you clean.’ When I left, Lexie was promising all kinds of things, but shit. I didn’t think it meant nothing. Lexie been through the state program twice, and before that her mom put her through another place, plus she went to NA four times a week in prison.”

“Her mother was never dying before,” Marshall said. Mostly to himself.