I sit beside him until he falls asleep. I don’t want to leave, but I want those pills. If I don’t run into any traffic, I can be back in less than an hour. I call Frank to come with me, and we go outside and get into the car.

Chapter 23

DeWitt has taped a note with my initials on it to his front door. “Outside the place where we do the dressing,” the note says. Nothing else.

I look in the bushes outside his bedroom window and find an large manila envelope, again with my initials on it. Inside are smaller envelopes, marked 1, 2, and 3. I recognize the antiemetic in the first envelope, but not the other pills—a large number of small yellow capsules, a few larger red ones. It doesn’t matter what they are. I fold over the envelope, put it in my purse. I ring DeWitt’s doorbell, and hear a shuffling movement inside. I wait, but the door does not open. I ring the doorbell again, then finally walk away.

• • •

Chip is sitting in the living room when I return. “I couldn’t sleep,” he says. “So I took a little walk to the library. And I have something startling to report to you.”

“Oh?” I hang my purse in my closet, make sure the zipper is closed. Frank goes to his water dish and starts taking one of his marathon drinks. I’m so glad dogs can’t talk. Hey, Chip. We went to see DeWitt, so Myra could get some pills, too!

“Are you ready to hear this?” Chip asks.

“Yes.”

“Okay: Napoleon had hemorrhoids.”

I laugh, go and sit on the sofa beside him. “Really!”

“It’s true. They bothered him so much he couldn’t mount his horse to survey the battle of Waterloo. Call me crazy, but I’d rather be remembered for having a brain tumor.”

“I suppose it is more dignified.”

“You want to know something else?”

“Sure.”

“Hummingbirds can fly backwards, and their wings beat over one hundred times a second.”

I smile. “You know, you are the most beautiful man I have ever known. And it’s true that I am as foolish as anyone else, and so the way you look is one of the reasons I love you. But the bigger reason is your … discrimination. The things you choose to appreciate. Hummingbirds. Mating rituals and stars. Rose Banovitz.”

“And you,” he says. “But you know, you’ll do much better than me. You’ll find someone who’s not so hollow.”

“You’re not hollow!”