“Hey yourself.”

“Where’s Jason?”

“Running.” Pam’s head swiveled. Her blond hair was casually messy. Her long bare legs were propped on a second chair. “Looks like you’re famous again. It’s on TV. It’s in the paper.”

“I know.”

“Did you screw up? Give somebody the wrong meds?”

“It’s not me. Someone else is doing this.”

Pam sipped coffee. “What do you mean?”

“Some psycho is targeting my patients. And me.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“I thought I heard you shout earlier. Did something happen?”

“Just a bad dream,” Frankie said. After a pause, she added, “The dream was about Dad, actually.”

“Sounds like a nightmare.”

“It was. Remember how he used to ask us all those questions on our camping trips?”

“Oh Lord,” Pam groaned. She lowered her voice to imitate their father. “Question. Does addiction constitute a brain illness or an absence of will? Question. Does the intervention of family help or hurt in an addict’s trajectory of dependence? Like I didn’t know he was talking about me. His questions were always designed to remind me that I was a shit-hole failure in his eyes.”

Frankie knew Pam was right about that. Marvin’s questions usually had a sharp edge, and the edge was always directed at Pam. “Hey, you lucked out when the topic was extraplanetary life. There wasn’t much he could do with that.”

“I don’t know. I kept waiting for him to say, ‘Question. If humans were relocated to another planet, would Pam be a minimum-wage waitress or a whore?’”

“He wasn’t quite that bad.”

“He was every bit that bad, Frankie,” Pam replied.

Just like that, the shadow was back between them. Even from the grave, their father drove the two of them apart.

“I dreamed that I saw him on the cliff,” Frankie said.

“Lucky you.”

“He didn’t fall. He jumped. In my dream.”

“Maybe he did.”

“Pam, don’t say that,” Frankie chided her.

“You said the rangers couldn’t be sure. If he slipped, or if he jumped, what difference does it make to us? In the end, it’s the same. He’s gone. And you know what? I don’t miss him.”

Frankie hesitated. “Neither do I.”

“Okay, then,” Pam said. “Let’s leave the bastard behind instead of talking about him every time we’re together.”

“Sorry. It still haunts me.”

Frankie got up. She wasn’t done with her coffee, but she wanted to get to the office. She always felt safe at her office. That was where her life made sense. Plus, she was sure she had messages waiting for her. Patients would be watching the news, and they’d be scared.

“Do you think I’m a bad person?” she asked.