“Well, now you have to listen. That’s all you can do. Isn’t it something the way things turn out?”

Please don’t let me open the wrong one.

“Are you awake yet!” he yells. “The best part you won’t smell. Well, sort of an ozone smell. You ever heard the old saying about someone sucking all the air out of the room? You’re about to find out it’s true.”

I’m pretty sure what I want will be in a Pelican transport case, what Marino calls a sixteen-thirty.

“Are you listening to me? Wake up!”

I feel a fold-down handle, and that could be a good sign, but it’s hard for me to remember.

“How good I’ve been to you, and this is what I get. I bring you flowers and hold your disgusting hand.” He continues talking to me, and he’s talking to somebody else.

Very, very slowly I push up a plastic clasp, working my fingers along the side of the case until I feel another clasp and then another.

“Dutiful, perfect, really, and put you in the best place when what I really should have done is spit in your face. You know what it’s cost me all these years because you had me late and I was raised by a disgusting old hag? By the grace of no one but me. Fayth House, and you aren’t gracious or grateful. A damn hypocrite, and it’s time you admit it. Well, you will. In a little while, you’re going to apologize.”

Please don’t let there be nothing but gloves and protective clothing in here.

But the size seems right. A Pelican case, what feels like a large toolbox. The cases we keep disposable clothing and sheets in are more like utility dry boxes with steel bar latches. I’m pretty sure. I’m trying so hard to think straight. My heart is flying like a terrified bird.

“You’re a cold-blooded bitch, and I could have let you die, which is what you really wanted. And that’s why I didn’t. A squash for a brain, nothing but a fruit or a vegetable lying there or sitting up in the chair, staring. And you can’t speak for yourself anymore, not the silver-tongued phony anymore, the virtuous do-gooder anymore. I’ve let you live because I enjoy seeing you this way. For the first time, I actually enjoy coming to see you. Pissing yourself, shitting in the bed. Getting uglier, more sour-smelling, more revolting every day. Who’s the hero now?”

I work up the lid several inches, feeling inside the case without opening it all the way because it’s heavy and I don’t want to make noise. I feel convoluted foam inside.

“I know you’re awake!” he yells, and I freeze. “Tell me the password for your phone!”