The Devil in Silver

Coffee wagged his finger at Dr. Barger. “You didn’t have faith in the system.”

Pepper looked at Dr. Barger. “Coffee’s not an American. He doesn’t know it’s every man for himself around here.”

Dr. Barger jutted out his lower lip, as if a specimen had finally done something worth noting. “Is that how all of you feel? Dorry? Loochie?”

Dorry waved her hand at Pepper dismissively. “Even Pepper doesn’t believe that. He figures that’s what he’s got to say. You look stupid if you’re sincere these days.”

Dr. Barger pushed the conference-room door closed without thinking. He’d become engaged in this conversation and didn’t want it to end. Because he wasn’t paying attention he bonked the old woman in the purple pantsuit as she walked into the room. The tray in her hands flew; the tea bags, and packets of sugar, and a plastic cup of plastic spoons all tumbled to the floor.

The old woman wasn’t hurt. She hardly stopped moving. She held on to the tray and stumbled into the room. Dr. Barger pulled the door back quickly and sputtered apologies. The old woman set the tray down on their table, lifted one arm and dropped a rectangular box of lemon cookies. She turned toward the mess, which Dr. Barger now stooped forward to clean up, and she pulled at the doctor’s coat to move him. With the doctor out of the way, she bent and gathered up all the fallen items in two quick swipes. She used the plastic cup like a scoop. She set all the items back on the tray. Then she shuffled out of the room. She hadn’t spoken, hardly acknowledged anyone the whole time.

Dorry punched Pepper in the arm lightly. “She’s been here almost as long as me. I don’t think the doctors even know her name anymore. They give her little jobs like that. You would almost think she worked here. We call her the Haint. Haint quite a patient. Haint quite the staff.”

Coffee studied his open blue binder, as if he hadn’t noticed any of this. Loochie snatched the box of lemon cookies.

Pepper said, “I need coffee.”

As he poured it, Pepper realized it was the first cup he’d had in over a month. He used to buy two or three each day before. Before. The word made him feel slightly dizzy. He dipped one finger into the hot coffee and held it there, burning the tip of his finger until he came back to himself.

As he blew on his finger, Josephine arrived at the door pushing that same three-tiered book cart. It entered the room and gathered all attention, the ark of a cut-rate covenant.

The same bevy of professional manuals were on the shelves but now there were seven copies of one book, all in unblemished condition, across the top row. Hardcovers. Jackets in “near fine” condition (a used-booksellers’ term). The background of the jacket was black and on each spine, the title in large red letters: JAWS. JAWS. JAWS. JAWS. JAWS. JAWS. JAWS.

Dr. Barger peeked outside theatrically, finally shutting the door. He sat down at the head of the table. Dr. Barger stretched out his hand and Josephine handed one of the books to him. They could all see the back cover. It showed the author’s photo in black and white. The dude wore a black jacket and white turtleneck, stood in a slightly turned pose, and grinned faintly at all of them in the room. He cut a Hugh Hefner figure. And on the front cover that iconic image, an enormous gray shark’s head moving up from the bottom of the black page and a small gray woman swimming at the top. The woman meant to get a little exercise, but the shark had other plans.

It was an old book-club version of the original. The shipping cost more than the books. Dr. Barger opened the dust jacket and scanned the flap. He read out loud.

“ ‘It’s out there in the water … waiting. Nature’s most fearsome predator. It fears nothing. It attacks anything. It devours everything.’ ”

He closed the flap and sighed.

“Oh, my,” he said.

He dropped the book on the table as if it had dirtied his fingers. Then he looked up at the group, and smiled and said, “I’m really looking forward to discussing this book!”

Loochie ate a lemon cookie, spoke with her mouth full. “Liar.”

Before Dr. Barger could argue, the door opened and in walked Sam. All eyes in the room scanned the doorway for Sammy. But Sam just shut the door.

She looked down at the floor.

Last time, she’d been dressed for the day; now, she wore her pajamas.

She moved behind Pepper and Dorry and took a seat at the far end of the table, directly across from Dr. Barger. Her face looked red, as if she’d been scalded, and they couldn’t see her eyes because she wouldn’t look up. The depth of her silence quieted the others.

Finally, Dorry spoke up. “No jokes today, Sammy?”

She lifted her head. Her eyes were red and veiny. She hadn’t been burnt, she’d been crying. “I’m Sam,” she said quietly.

Dr. Barger said, “You’ve been crying.”

Loochie rolled her eyes. “Is that your professional diagnosis?”