“Well, he takes the pain pills and they help. But not as much as they did. His balance is worse, he gets a little confused now and then. He’s sleeping a lot more. I think he’s actually timed it pretty well, Diann.”

“Oh, it’s so awful. I keep thinking there’s got to be something I can do, but there isn’t. We did have a really wonderful conversation, though.” She laughs. “Best we ever had.”

“Right.” I fiddle with the phone cord. I don’t have anything else to say. I think from now on I’ll let the machine handle calls.

Diann must sense this, because she says, “I’ll let you go, Myra. I just want to tell you that if you change your mind and need me to come, call any time. I’ll get the next flight out.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“And tell Chip … I don’t know. I don’t know what. I told him everything. But tell him, just say that I’m thinking of him all the time.” She starts crying. “And that I hope it goes peacefully. And that I’m so sorry he had to suffer. And that I love him, tell him I will always love him.”

Now I start crying too. “I’ll tell him.”

A long silence. And then Diann says, “Call me right after it’s over, okay? Please call and let me know. Will you?”

That will be hard to do, I think. But I tell her I will.

• • •

After dinner—Spanish omelets, a salad—we decide to take Frank for a walk to the video rental store, three blocks away. The man who works there keeps staring at Chip, knowing something’s wrong but unable to figure out what it is. Chip’s gait is shuffling, uneven. His eyes are affected by his medication; he looks slightly demented. His pants hang low on his hips from the weight he’s lost. I’ve gotten used to these things, I don’t really notice anymore, so to see them anew through the eyes of a stranger is unsetttling. I want to get out of here.

Chip stands unmoving before the wall of videos. His sense of time has become hampered; after his nap this afternoon, he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Fifteen minutes later, I came in to check on him, and he was still brushing away. I wasn’t sure what to do, at first. But finally, I put my hand over his and said, “I think it’s enough, now.”

He nodded and put the toothbrush down. And that was all.

“What do you think?” I say. “Should we go over and look in the comedy section?”

“Or maybe we could get that movie about the woman who takes the bus.”

“Who’s in it?”

“I don’t know, that woman. She’s really famous. She takes the bus because she wants to go home.”