Dolan was released from the hospital late Monday afternoon just as the dinner trays were coming out. Stacey and I arrived on the floor at 5:00 and waited with patience while Dolan's doctor reviewed his chart and lectured him at length about the importance of staying off cigarettes, eating properly, and initiating a program of moderate exercise. By the time we saw him, he was dressed in street clothes and eager to be gone. We tucked him in the front seat of Stacey's rental car while I climbed in the back. He carried a manila envelope with copies of the ER report, his EKGs, and his record of treatment. As Stacey turned the key in the ignition, Dolan said, "Bunch of bunk. They exaggerate this stuff, trying to keep you in line. I don't see what's so bad about an occasional smoke."

"Don't start on that. You do what they say."

"How about I'll be as compliant as you were? As I remember it, you did what suited you and to hell with them."

Stacey turned off the key and threw his hands up. "That's it. We're going right back upstairs and talk to the doctor."

"What's the matter with you? I said I'd do as I'm told... in the main. Now start the car and let's go. I'm not supposed to be upset. It says so right here," he said, rattling his envelope.

"Does not. I read that myself."

"You read my medical records?"

"Sure. The chart was in the slot on your door. I knew you'd lie about things."

I leaned forward, resting my arms on the front seat between them. "Guys, if you two are going to bicker, I'll get out and walk."

All three of us were silent while they thought about that.

" Finally, Dolan said, "Oh, all right. This is making my blood pressure go up." At the Quorum Inn over dinner, Dolan's mood improved and the tension between them eased. Dolan made a pious display of ordering broiled fish with lemon, steamed vegetables, a plain green salad, and a glass of red wine, which he swore he was allowed. After our day of junk food, Stacey and I both ate broiled chicken, salad, and the same steamed vegetables. We all pretended to enjoy the dinner more than we did. By the time our decaf coffee arrived, it was clear we'd run out of conversation. In the morning, Stacey would drive Dolan back to Santa Teresa in the rental car, leaving Dolan's for me. The car sailed into one of those inevitable calms. We were waiting for work, waiting for test results, waiting for comparison prints; in waiting for a break that might never come. I probably should have headed home at the same time they did. I'd certainly join them in day or two, if nothing further developed.

I said, "In the meantime, what's left? I don't want to sit here Dolan said, "Just don't get in trouble."