Overnight the storm had mostly cleared, the early sky pillowed with white clouds rolling off to the east. As I stood in the booth at the Chevron, the brittle morning air was so cold I could see my breath. Sometimes the bite is as sharp as the Oregon coast—or even Maine, where my father used to drag us for a week in June, doubling up with our mick cousins while the uncles wallowed in beer. I left the accordion door open, so as not to feel cut off from Gray, who waited a few feet off in the pickup. His eyes never left my face, his untroubled smile a magic circle of reassurance.Which I badly needed, for I felt like a fugitive turning his ass in. I had to talk my way through an answering service and two nurses, explaining again and again that I had to speak with Dr. Robison now, since I had no number to leave. They all acted deeply offended, as if I was worse than a welfare case. I hated to use the word but finally bit the bullet: emergency. On hold for half a minute, I put out my tongue and flicked it obscenely at Gray, who laughed, a billow of smoke in the morning chill.When Robison came on, I felt an instant flush of shame.
