“For the first time in ages, I feel good. I’ve slept. I’ve eaten. I’ve talked with other human beings my own age. It feels wonderful. It’s a little overwhelming, that’s all. And all in one day.”

He puts a hand on my shoulder.

I use my finger to wipe the tears from my cheek. I walk farther into the room. I sit down in my chair with an exhale. I close my eyes, resting my head back. I sit like this until I remember what was on my desk this morning.

“Jack, where did the new paint and brushes come from?” I ask, opening my eyes.

But he’s not here. He is already gone.

When I wake, I’m still in the chair. My head is tilted back and to the side. My feet are up on the footrest. There’s a blanket over my legs and a glass of water on the side table. It must have been a long nap. When did I decide to take a nap?

And then I notice: Shelley is in here with me.

She’s in the corner of the room, just standing there. She’s changed out of her red dress into a more casual sweater and jeans. She walks over, reaching down, and very softly touches my cheek with the back of her hand, the way a parent might do to a young child. The thin, see-through glove she’s wearing is cool on my skin. Clammy.

“You looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

I try to swallow. “How long have I been asleep? I’m very thirsty,” I say.

“Here,” she says, handing me the water. She watches while I drain the entire glass.

“We have a treat lined up for you tomorrow morning. You’re going to have a spa day.”

I hand the empty glass back to her.

“A what day?”

“Spa. Get your hair washed and cut, nails done.”

I look down at my dirty, jagged nails.

“Only if it’s not an inconvenience,” I say.

“Not in the least. It will be good for the party,” she says. “You’ll love it. But first, it’s time for your shower.”

The hot water is sublime. I let it fall over my head, neck, and face. I needed this, badly. It’s rejuvenating. I just wish I could be in here on my own, to have some privacy.

Shelley insisted on helping me. She’s removed her shoes and has put a white water-resistant robe on over her clothes. She stands off to the side of the giant shower stall, while I’m in the stream of hot water.

“I’m fine to do this on my own,” I say. “There was no one to help me at my apartment.”

“I know, my dear. But that’s why you’re here, remember—to get help.”

The water pressure is much stronger than back home and stings my skin in a pleasant way. I feel Shelley step closer. She picks up a washcloth and starts scrubbing my back. The material of her robe feels like a rain jacket against my skin.