“Mr. Bloom is doing exceptionally well, considering . . .” Sister Dorothy had been on duty when his father was admitted, and she’d been encouraging about his improving condition. Her strong Irish lilt never made anything sound particularly bad—even serious conditions sounded like compliments—but today she was uncharacteristically stern. “Your father is an intelligent man, is he not, Mr. Bloom?” She pursed her lips and eyed him keenly.

“Yes, for sure.” Theo didn’t like rhetorical questions, but he assumed she was going somewhere with this.

“And he’s well read, I understand.”

“Very. Books have always been a big part of his life.”

“Then why, in God’s name, does the man not listen to what the doctors say?”

She was talking about their repeated requests for him to lose weight, and their other suggestions on lifestyle changes.

“Why does it fall upon deaf ears?” she continued. “Do patients think the doctors are comedians, that there’s really a cure but it’s a big secret that they’re keeping from the rest of us?” She shook her head, her starched white cap remarkably staying in place. “There is no secret cure, no easy answer. They just need to do what they’re told!”

Samuel stirred then opened his eyes, and it seemed impossible that he hadn’t heard.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Bloom. Sister Rachel will be around soon to take your vitals,” she said, before turning back to Theo. “And good day to you too, sir. Perhaps you can talk to him.” She disappeared noiselessly, and he considered what she’d said. He had tried talking to his father before, so too had his mother; maybe Samuel didn’t want to change—or maybe this scare would be the one that mattered. Only time would tell, and Theo wasn’t going to spend the little time he had with his father lecturing him. Anyway, weren’t sixty years of experience worth something? Hadn’t he earned the right to decide how to live?

“Theo . . . what is it, son?”

“Sorry, I was miles away,” Theo said, coming to stand closer. “How are you feeling?”

“Like it’s time to go home.”

The doctors had established that his infection had gone but that he needed a strict regimen of drugs and exercise to keep him stable, and possibly help him improve.

“How long have you been here?”

“Not long. I know Mom’s on her way. I just wanted to check that you’ve got everything you need.”

“I certainly have. I can even see Prospect Park Zoo through the window over there.” Samuel pointed west to the collage of brown and green knitted in between the grid of Brooklyn’s townhouses and tenements, and Theo could just make out the larger trees and enclosures. It made him think of Alice’s book, her amazing pictures and stories.

“Maybe we could borrow a wheelchair to take you?” Theo suggested.