Leon sat on the couch in a sullen pose, arms and legs crossed, chin resting on his chest. He felt like his space had been invaded, like something personally his was being exposed. He didn’t want to share the miracle of Martha with these three strange men who now sat at her kitchen table, along with Martha and Dr. Withins. He felt the situation being taken out of his hands. Shit, that’s what I want, isn’t it? Maybe, maybe not.

The tests they were giving her were stupid. “Tell me what this pattern looks like to you, Martha,” and “Can you describe your mother for me as you remember her?” and “Did you love your father?” and “What was the first thing you noticed the other day when all of a sudden you felt better?” Silly stuff. When she talked about Leon, his face reddened, and he picked at the couch, trying to ignore them. That stuff is private, dammit!

There were only three things she said that interested Leon. Her dreams about the yellow eyes and snapping teeth he thought were a bit bizarre, but maybe she’d been scared by a dog when she was little or something. Once in a while he had dreams of spiders crawling on him. After all, nightmares are normal. He also thought it was interesting that she remembered her mother as being small, when everybody knew that old Fern was as big as a house. She hardly remembered her father at all.

The only other thing she said that impressed Leon was also what made him so nervous, made him fidget as he sat there listening. She said she loved him, and hoped he would stay with her forever. Christ! He didn’t need an old lady to be dependent upon him. He was only twenty-­four years old! He liked her all right, but boy, to be with her for . . . oh Christ. He’d have to talk to her about that. A couple of months, Dr. Withins had said. He could do a couple of months.

They sat at the table, drinking coffee and talking to Martha for almost three hours. When they finally left, Leon walked them to the doctor’s van. One of the doctors, the tallest one, said he’d like to come back to talk with her some more. There appeared, he said, to be some kind of a psychological block that occurred in her childhood, and was just recently removed, restoring her to normalcy. He wanted to find out as much as he could, because it could be of tremendous benefit to the psychiatric community.

Leon couldn’t be less interested. He just nodded, told the doctor to come back anytime, and yawned. It was bedtime.

Then they urged Leon to stay with her, at least until they had a better idea of what happened, both then and now. He agreed, then waved as they drove off.