“Here.” I handed the kid to Mrs. Z, and she sat on a kitchen chair, waiting for Deena and the bottle. I couldn’t take the noise. I busted out the back door. Nice cold air. I needed a smoke. I lit up and inhaled. Needed my brain to kick in. My nerves to calm. I watched the cloud of exhale in the dark. I used to make smoke rings for Cally, and she’d thought that was cool. Deena’s dogs came over to check me out. I walked down the steps, closer to their fence. They started whimpering. Maybe they thought I’d harness them up and take them out for a sled.

“Hey, Baz, Trapper,” I said. “Good boy, Pops. Hey, Nathan. Check it out.” I made a few smoke rings for the dogs. They howled, so I made a few more.

I tried to think of everything I knew about that couple. His name was Hal. I remembered that because my buddy Eric’s dad’s name was Hal, and he was a dick. We used to call him “Hal the Pal, Douche Canal.” But what was his last name? Johnson? Smith? It was something boring. He was a lawyer, but I didn’t know anything more than that. And the wife? She worked for the newspaper downtown. Cally really liked that about her. Ruth something. Did she have the same last name as the lawyer? I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t think of it, anyway.

I walked back up the steps to the porch. Nice view over the back acres. Dark sky. I liked the sky at night. You could see more without all that sun. I remembered Cally had some papers in all her shit from the hospital. Was the guy’s name and address on that? I didn’t look at it that close. I stubbed out my cigarette and went back into the house. No one was in the kitchen. Dinner was set out buffet-style and half eaten. Dirty plates in the sink. They’d gone ahead without me. I loaded a clean plate and ate quickly. I was loading a second helping when it started.

“DEENA!” called Mrs. Z. “DENNIS!”

I went to the living room. Mrs. Z was sitting in the chair with the baby. The bottle was on the floor. “Find Deena!” she said.

“DEENA!” I called to the ceiling. “Is she in the shower?”

“I’m not sure.”

I yelled up the stairs, “DEENA, MRS. Z NEEDS YOU.”

“Dennis, look.” Mrs. Z held the baby out for me to see.

“Why is she all stiff like that?” I said.

Mrs. Z shook her head. “Take her,” she said.

“I don’t wanna take her,” I said. She looked greenish and had spit up all over herself.

“What’s all the yelling?” Deena finally came down.

Mrs. Z waddled to the stairs. “Look, look,” she said as she held the baby out for Deena to see.