Across from me, Trevor put down his fork and, frowning, began to wipe his hands.

“Yes!” said the cheerful civil servant. “I thought it might be best if we could set an appointment for me to come by and see how you two are getting on.”

“Ok, wait,” I said. “Who are you again?”

“My name’s Eleanor Mallon and I’m with the Department of Health and Wellness.”

“Health and Wellness,” I repeated. I glanced up at Trevor then. The look on his face turned the greasy meal that had moments ago been warmly nestled in my stomach into a cold yet somehow burning clump.

“I don’t understand what this is about, though,” I said.

“Karen,” said Eleanor Mallon. At the same time, Trevor leaned forward and whispered to me, “Karie!”

“As I think I mentioned,” began Eleanor Mallon, “we’ve had a report.”

Someone had called Eleanor Mallon, or Eleanor Mallon’s office, perhaps even some kind of hotline, some kind of emergency hotline, and informed her, Eleanor, or whatever civil service flunky happened to receive the call, of a developmentally handicapped woman — a client, receiving benefits — whose care had been newly entrusted to her sister after their mother’s recent death. The sister had been away for many years and was perhaps not as familiar as she could be with the client’s needs. There were a number of concerning incidents. The client had been severely ill on two occasions in the past month, but on neither occasion was she taken to a doctor. There was also an incident in a public parking lot. The police had to be called. The client had been left alone in the car, and —

Will she be ok?

Bending to inquire over the back seat, blond hair curtaining her face.

Gonna be ok by yourself, Kell?

My vision had begun to pulsate — I was aware of the pulsating, even if I was only distantly aware of anything I was seeing in front of me, anything but the sound of Eleanor Mallon in my ear. Beside me Kelli was obviously mopping up ketchup from her plate with a fistful of french fries. Many of them had split open and their fluffy white potato-guts were oozing up from between Kelli’s knuckles. Trevor sat with his hands braced against the table, watching me. He had pushed his plate away. About halfway through my conversation with Eleanor Mallon, he pushed my plate away too and I saw him signal to the waitress.

“I also understand you’ve discontinued some of Kelli’s home care visits,” chirped Eleanor Mallon.

“I’ve cut back on them, yes —” I began. “Because . . .” I glanced up at Trevor.

“Not to worry — we can certainly discuss it when I stop by!” said Eleanor Mallon with an air of generosity, like she was talking about dropping off a casserole and, oh no, it was no trouble at all. “But, of course, these visits are a service covered by your sister’s benefits — they’re meant to make things easier for you.”