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covers her mouth with her hands.
    “Why were you going to die?” Robert asks.
    “We weren’t really going to die.” Both Nancy and Jack are laughing now at the memory, and Jack is pulling off his sweater. The hospital in Tucson wouldn’t accept them because they weren’t sick enough to hospitalize, but they were too sick to travel. They had nowhere to go. They had been on a month’s trip through the West, then had stopped in Tucson and gotten jobs at a restaurant to make enough money to get home.
    “Do you remember that doctor?” Jack says.
    “I remember the look he gave us, like he didn’t want us to pollute his hospital.” Nancy laughs harder. She feels silly and relieved. Her hand, on Jack’s knee, feels the fold of the long johns beneath his jeans. She cries, “I’ll never forget how we stayed around that parking lot, thinking we were going to die.”
    “I couldn’t have driven a block, I was so weak,” Jack gasps.
    “You were yellow.
I
didn’t get yellow.”
    “All we could do was pee and drink orange juice.”
    “And throw the pee out the window.”
    “Grover was so bored with us!”
    Nancy says, “It’s a good thing we couldn’t eat. We would have spent all our money.”
    “Then we would have had to work at that filthy restaurant again. And get sick again.”
    “And on and on, forever. We would still be there, like Charley on the MTA. Oh, Jack, do you
remember
that crazy restaurant? You had to wear a ten-gallon hat—”
    Abruptly, Robert jerks away from Nancy and crawls on his knees across the room to examine Grover, who is stretched out on his side, his legs sticking out stiffly. Robert, his straight hair falling, bends his head to the dog’s heart.
    “He’s not dead,” Robert says, looking up at Nancy. “He’s lying doggo.”
    “Passed out at his own party,” Jack says, raising his glass. “Way to go, Grover!”

1985

    Spence + Lila
    1
    On the way to the hospital in Paducah, Spence notices the row of signs along the highway: WHERE WILL YOU BE IN ETERNITY? Each word is on a white cross. The message reminds him of the old Burma-Shave signs. His wife, Lila, beside him, has been quiet during the trip, which takes forty minutes in his Rabbit. He didn’t take her car because it has a hole in the muffler, but she has complained about his car ever since he cut the seat belts off to deactivate the annoying warning buzzer.
    As they pass the Lone Oak shopping center, on the outskirts of Paducah, Lila says fretfully, “I don’t know if the girls will get here.”
    “They’re supposed to be here by night,” Spence reminds her. Ahead, a gas station marquee advertises a free case of Coke with a tune-up.
    Catherine, their younger daughter, has gone to pick up Nancy at the airport in Nashville. Although Lila objected to the trouble and expense, Nancy is flying all the way from Boston. Cat lives nearby, and Nancy will stay with her. Nancy offered to stay with Spence, so he wouldn’t be alone, but he insisted he would be all right.
    When Cat brought Lila home from the doctor the day before and Lila said, “They think it’s cancer,” the words ran through him like electricity. She didn’t cry all evening, and when he tried to hold her, he couldn’t speak. They sat in the living room in their recliner chairs, silent and scared, watching TV just as they usually did. Before she sat down for the evening, she worked busily in the kitchen, freezing vegetables from the garden and cooking food for him to eat during her stay in the hospital. He couldn’t eat any supper except a bowl of cereal, and she picked at some ham and green beans.
    He knew she had not been feeling well for months; she’d had dizzy spells and she had lost weight. The doctor at the local clinic told her to come back in three months if she kept losing weight, but Cat insisted on taking her mother to Paducah. The doctors were better there, Cat insisted, in that know-it-all manner both his daughters had. Cat, who was careless