Alice and Charlie stopped and stared as the old woman staggered to her feet, lurched toward them. To Alice’s horror, the old woman grabbed her arm, the gnarled fingers with the long, yellowy nails surprisingly—shockingly—strong, digging into her flesh like claws. Alice’s ice cream cone fell to the ground.

“Camilla, where have you been?” the old woman said, fixing Alice with a bright blue eye. The other was milky white, crusted at the corner, unseeing, obviously.

Alice, trying to hide her revulsion, speaking gently, said, “I’m not Camilla. Camilla’s gone. I’m Alice.”

“I wait for you every week, Camilla.”

“I’m Alice,” she said again, a little more forcefully this time.

“The other girl never remembers that I hate stewed carrots. She always brings me stewed carrots. Stewed carrots make me gag.” The old woman was so excited, her dentures were becoming loose, dripping thick, gooey strands of saliva onto Alice’s arm. “Why does she do that, Camilla?”

“I’m Alice,” Alice said, almost pleading now.

“You never brought me stewed carrots, Camilla. You always remembered that I couldn’t eat them, brought me creamed corn instead.” Tears were leaking now from the old woman’s one good eye, disappearing into the deep wrinkles on her cheeks. “Why don’t you come see me anymore? Did I do something wrong?” On the word wrong, her teeth slid all the way out of her mouth, landing with a soft plop in the chocolate ice cream melting on the pavement. “I’m so fond of you, Camilla. Can’t you please start visiting me again?”

Alice tried to free her arm, but the old woman’s grip only tightened. Panicked, Alice turned to Charlie. “I don’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Of course you don’t. She’s fucking nuts.” Charlie yelled out to the nurse: “Hey, if you don’t get your patient off my sister, I will. And I won’t be gentle.”

Slowly the nurse put down her magazine, rolled to her feet. “What’s got into you, Mrs. Graves? You leave these girls alone. Come on, now. Let’s go back home. I’ll make you a nice cup of tapioca pudding. How does that sound?”

All of a sudden, the old woman’s one eye narrowed shrewdly. “You’re not Camilla,” she said, shaking Alice’s arm. “You’re nothing like Camilla. Why are you pretending to be her? Where is she? What have you done with her?”

All at once, the strength drained out of the old woman’s grasp, and Alice was able to pull away.

“Camilla,” the old woman moaned, collapsing against the side of her nurse, her body wracked with sobs.