Sometime after that I opened my eyes.The window had a lace curtain over its lower half. There were big white clouds moving fast across a perfectly blue sky in the upper panes. Watching that sky helped my breathing. I remember how deeply I inhaled, not even wanting to let it out.“Good morning, Mr. Rawlins.” It was a woman’s voice. “How are you feeling?”“What time is it?” I asked, sitting up. I wasn’t wearing a shirt and the blankets came down to my stomach. Shirley Wenzler’s eyes were fast to my chest.“Ten, I guess.”She wore a no-sleeve one-piece cotton dress that had slanting stripes of blue, green, and gold, all very bright. Squinting at those bright colors let me know that I had a hangover.“This your house?” I asked.“Kind of. I rent. Poppa lives all the way in Santa Monica so we thought we’d take you here for the night.”“How’d I get in bed?”“You walked.”“I don’t remember.” It was partially true.“You were kind of drunk, Mr. Rawlins.”
