“Sit here.” There’s a bench. I slump onto it, keening like an animal. I hear the stranger tsk around me, murmuring to herself.
“Okay now, here’s a cab for you,” she says in soothing tones. “Where should I have him take you? How about the VA Hospital?”
“Hotel,” I manage. I groan. “Cash.”
“You know, my grandson is a Navy SEAL. I’ve got cash—about a hundred in my wallet. But look here, I see an ATM right over there across the way.”
It can’t be true. It isn’t true. It can’t be true.
I reach into my jacket and pull out my debit card. It feels strange in my fingers. I crack one lid and hold it out toward her shadow. “Zero three... zero... five.”
“How much would you like?”
“Max,” I croak.
I see a yellow cab through bleary eyes. I can’t seem to focus on the shadow woman’s face.
Maybe she’s my mother, come to guide me through—
It can’t be true. It isn’t true. It can’t be true.
I don’t so much step as fall into the cab. The driver jets off. I can’t remember if I told him where to go, or if I got my cash. The woman was...
I bend over. Clutch my head. I can’t remember how I got into the cab, can only think of—
It can’t be true. It isn’t true. It can’t be true.
It can’t be true. It isn’t true. It can’t be true.
It can’t be true. It isn’t true. It can’t be true.
I crack my eyes open to a view of beads hanging from a rear-view mirror. Underneath it, the city marching by. “Do you... have sanitizer?” I rasp. “Hand—”
A bottle is thrust into my hands. My fingers shake.
“Here!” The driver snatches it away. I blink and swallow. My throat burns.
The bottle lands in my lap, the top flipped open. I squeeze some out into my palm. The smell of alcohol consumes me.
The next time I open my eyes, we’re at the Carlyle. My throat hurts so much, it’s making things blur.
I can’t go back. I won’t.
I hand the man my debit card. He shakes his head. “She paid, before we leave.”
I nod. Okay.
But I’m not okay. I can’t get my legs to move. My head is spinning like a top. I start to cough. The short man comes around to help me. As he wraps his hand around my wrist and I try to shift my hips, my jacket flops open. His eyes fly to my chest, and then pop wide.
“Not here,” he says, shaking his head. “This no the right place. You not get out here.”
I laugh and struggle out, onto my feet and through the hotel’s automatic doors. I stagger into the lobby like a bear into a palace. I find the nearest chair and list into it, sweating.
It can’t be true. It isn’t true. It can’t be true.
It can’t be true. It isn’t true. It can’t be true.
I try to focus. Breathe.