“Yeah, this Mr. Washington,” I hear DeWitt say. “This Bob? Bob, my man! I’m calling to tell you I’m ’bout ready to zero in on my choice. Now, how long it take to get that silver one again? Black interior.” Silence. Then, “Well, yeah I want that. I thought that come with it.” The bedroom door slams shut, presumably so I won’t hear. But I still can. “Say I want to add that other CD player instead,” DeWitt says. “How much it be then?” He starts laughing. “No shit! Well, what else that car got?”

I look at my watch. Then I get up and go knock at the bedroom door.

“Hold on,” I hear him say. And then, “Yessssssss?”

“DeWitt.”

“What!”

I open the door. “Stop busting my balls. If you want your dressing changed, I need to do it now. I have another patient to see. You can talk on the phone while I work.”

“Yo, Bob, you hear this? Nurse Ratched. Yeah, she mad as a wet hen. I catch you later, I got to use my wildy charms, get her back on track.”

He hangs up, smiles at me. He has a beautiful smile, actually. Two big dimples. He unbuttons his shirt, exposes the dressing. I put on my gloves, start pulling gently at the tape, loosening it.

“Hey, Sugar?” he says.

I don’t answer.

“Awwwwww. Cabbage blossom?”

One side of the dressing is loose. I start on the other side.

“Come on, Myra, did I bust your balls, really?”

This other side is more difficult to get off. I pull a bit harder.

“Ouch! Jesus!”

I step back, my hands raised high.

“Just kiddin’,” he says, and chuckles. “Sheeeit. You like a rabbit, girl. Jump like a little white rabbit.”

I go back to work.

“You a white rabbit?” he asks.

I study the incision. No redness, no swelling, no odor, no excessive drainage. Good granulation tissue.

“Let’s make it easier for you,” DeWitt says. “We take it one step at a time. Are you white?”

“DeWitt? Knock it off.”

“Aw, you no fun today. You nervous. What you so nervous about?”

I don’t answer.

“Where’s your dog? Where’s ol’ Frank? He always fun.”

“He had a play date.”

This is true. The woman across the street, Theresa, has a collie named Ginger, who loves Frank. They play together a lot.

“A play date?” That keeps him going for the rest of the time it takes to do his dressing. Good thing I didn’t tell him Frank will frolic in Ginger’s kiddie pool, be served Frosty Paws while he watches Airbud, and come home with a booty bag full of rawhide treats. Sometimes when I think I’m the only lonely person in the world, I remember Theresa. But she’s lucky. She’s a widow.

Chapter 3