“The Trip to Bountiful?” the clerk says.

I have an impulse to tell him to mind his own business, to stop eavesdropping, and to stop staring, too, but Chip says, “That’s it!”

When we start home, I let Frank off his leash and tell him to heel. We’ve gone a little over a block when Chip stops walking. He stands still, swallowing repeatedly. Then, “Uh oh,” he says. He goes to the edge of the sidewalk, sits on the curb, puts his head between his knees and quietly vomits. A middle-aged couple walk by and give us wide berth. “Disgusting,” the woman says, just loud enough for us to hear.

“Excuse me,” I say, and when the woman turns around, I say, “Fuck you!”

“Hey!” her companion says.

“Fuck you, too,” I say.

“Myra,” Chip says. “Let’s just go home.” He stands, puts the leash back on Frank. “Come on.”

I stand there, staring at the couple, who have turned around and walked away. And then I take Chip’s arm. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“People are so stupid.”

“Oh, they probably think I’m drunk. It is disgusting.”

“No, it isn’t.”

He laughs. “Okay. We’ll call it art.”

* * *

Fifteen minutes into the movie, he falls asleep. I watch a few minutes more, then gently awaken him.

“I missed it, didn’t I?” he says. “I fell asleep again.”

“It’s all right.”

“Did you watch it, though? I wanted you to watch it.”

“Yes. It was wonderful. It was a great idea to rent it.”

He sits up. “Is it late?”

“Not so late.”

“I’m so tired all the time. I’m sorry.”

I move over to sit beside him. “You don’t have to be sorry about anything. I’m happy to go upstairs and go to bed with you. I’m happiest there.”

He puts his arm around me. “Well, then.”

• • •

Tuesday afternoon, right after we’ve finished lunch, I tell him I need to go and drop some papers off at my agency, and then get groceries. “Anything special you want?” I ask.

“Ice cream.”

“What kind?”

“I don’t care. The cold kind.” He looks at me in a kind of puzzled way. “I don’t feel good.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. It’s … you know, like rubber bands.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Chip.”

“Like when they’re loose.”

I don’t know what he means, but I nod my head as if I do. “I’ll stay here,” I say. “I won’t leave.”

“No, you don’t need to. This isn’t new. It’s just … more. I’ll feel better after a nap.”