The Devil in Silver

Pepper returned to the room and posted himself at the two large windows and surveyed the land before him. It seemed even more urgent that he work out his route if, already, some of the others were talking to patients freely. How long before word made its way to the staff? Rather than panic, he planned.

The fence line around the basketball court had a barbed-wire buffer at the top, and the parking lot of New Hyde Hospital was (nominally) manned by an (underpaid) guard. So if he did get that secure door open, it would be smarter to slip around to this side of the building, pad through the grass in front of his windows, climb the sweet-gum tree right near the fence, inch out on a branch, and drop down to the sidewalk. Leave New Hyde Hospital and disappear into Queens. Maybe it would be smart to have his file tucked under his arm when he left. But how would he get it? Where to even look?

All this planning turned Pepper a bit distracted, so he didn’t notice Coffee had entered the room until Coffee came to his side and set his precious blue binder down on the sill.

“You told those old guys a lot,” Pepper said.

Coffee looked out the window, too.

“I’ve been making contacts, morning and night, on the pay phones. I haven’t even had time to sleep. So I sure wasn’t talking with anyone.”

“Did you burn out my card?”

Coffee reached into the breast pocket of his pajama top. The “gold” card was really more of a muddy yellow. He dropped it on the windowsill.

“All done. But it was useful.”

Outside, the sun shone brightly and Pepper wondered at how good the air must feel. He put his hand to the pane and enjoyed the chill.

Coffee said, “I tracked down his number.”

Pepper nodded, not really listening, still imagining the fresh air.

“His number,” Coffee said quietly.

That broke Pepper’s spell. He looked at his roommate. “Come on.”

“Well, not really his, but his social secretary’s. The private line.”

“You want to get invited to a party at the White House? I hear you can just crash if you look like you’ve got money.”

Coffee rolled his eyes at Pepper. “Don’t bring me gossip and tell me it’s news. I have the number for a real someone, not just that stupid switchboard. I’m not going to yell. I’m going to be clear. I know I can do that now. Without all the meds. I’ll explain our situation and then you’ll see what He does for us.”

“I already know what’s going to happen,” Pepper said.

Coffee looked up at Pepper wearily. His eyes narrowed. “You don’t know,” Coffee said. “But you will never admit that.”

Pepper could see Coffee wouldn’t be swayed by anything he had to say, so he knocked on the cover of Coffee’s blue binder. “Why didn’t you bring this to Book Group?”

“I don’t need it anymore,” Coffee said.

“Because you have that new number?”

Coffee shook his head. He placed his hand on the cover of the binder. “I have all these numbers. Memorized. I’ve called each one so many times. But until we stopped taking the pills, I couldn’t remember even one. Now, they’re all here.”

Coffee pressed two fingers against his temple.

“The numbers come to me fast, fast, fast now. I wouldn’t have had the courage to do it alone. I don’t think Dorry and Loochie would have, either. So I have you to thank for that. And I mean it.”

Pepper did feel good to hear it. To know the lucidity in Coffee’s eyes was, at least in part, due to him. Vanity? Of course. But that’s okay. No one here was a martyr or a saint.

Lunch and dinner passed without event. Pepper sat in the television lounge and read some of Van Gogh’s letters. He found he could drown out the television if he concentrated on the page hard enough. He liked being in the lounge, around others, instead of alone in his room. He had nothing more to say to Coffee. Not to Dorry or Loochie, either. They were only waiting for the overnight shift to begin.

By eight thirty, all four members of the small conspiracy sat in the television lounge, though they weren’t together. Dorry and Loochie and Coffee and Pepper, each at a different table.

Scotch Tape and Josephine were on the night shift. This was much to Josephine’s surprise. She was meant to be relieved by Miss Chris, but Miss Chris had walked out that front door earlier and hadn’t returned. When Josephine used her cell phone to call Miss Chris around dinnertime, the call went straight to voice mail. As did Josephine’s next five tries. To put it plainly: The old lady had bounced. Leaving Josephine to work a double until the next shift change, around four a.m. Josephine sure didn’t like this, but what could she do? Leave Scotch Tape alone?

(Yes!)

No.

At nine, Dorry rose from her seat and beckoned the other three toward her. When they were together, Dorry said, “I think it’s time. Don’t you?”

The words seemed to rest on each of their shoulders like a heavy cloak. They all stooped forward slightly from the weight. Dorry saw the burden and nodded. She was dressed just like she had been at Book Group. Well, almost the same. Pepper realized her sweater was on inside out.