The Indigo Girls were playing on the stereo in the living room, but as far as I could tell that had nothing to do with it. “He hasn’t made a sound all afternoon,” she said. “I’ve tried to talk to him, but he doesn’t respond.” “He’s either pissed or sleeping,” I said. “This isn’t how I thought it would be,” she said dejectedly. “I thought we’d be able to keep him company, to talk him through it. He’s so alone in there.” “It’s just the first day,” Lindsey said. “We’re in this for the long haul, don’t forget. Things will change.” “I guess,” Alison said, sounding unconvinced. “Where’s Chuck?” I asked. “He rented a car and drove back to New York to get his nose taken care of and arrange for someone to cover his patients. He’ll be back late tonight or early tomorrow morning.” She stood up and returned the ice cream to the freezer. “I also checked my messages at home,” she said slowly. “Yeah?” “There was one from Paul Seward.
