"Yes, of course I do," I answered automatically. "But I like the village too."
"I'd hope so, Chris. You pulled up stakes quick enough when you moved there. We figured you'd gotten someone pregnant and were trying to avoid them or something."
I laughed a little. "No. I – " I hesitated. I knew they weren't expecting much of me, which was why they were making the whole thing into a joke. Marjorie must have told them – they must have seen – how tired I was. So it probably wasn't fair, what I did, because they were being kind to me, and I didn't return their kindness with the distant vagueness they were expecting.
"Well, obviously, it was after your dad died," Angie prompted.
There was a murmur of sympathetic agreement.
"Dad had a heart condition," I said. "So did I. So do I."
"What, like – "
"I left because the doctors told me if I stayed in the city and kept going like I had, I'd be dead in six months." I folded my napkin and set it next to my plate. I still hadn't looked any of them in the eye. "The air's better in the village and it's quieter there, that's all."
They burst into speech but mostly to each other, asking who knew, who I'd told, if I'd told anyone, who hadn't told if they did know. The food was forgotten – and so, apparently, was I.
"I didn't tell anyone," I said, slightly more loudly than I really had to. They stopped talking, at least. "I didn't tell anyone. I just wanted to...go. And that didn't really work anyway, because when I was here last time it was because I'd passed out and had to go to the hospital, so everyone in Low Ferry knows anyway."
There was an expectant silence.
"So that's why I went there," I said. "It's not why I stayed, I stayed because I love it there, but that's why I went there. And yeah, I missed the city and the idea that I'd make a pile of money and meet someone and have kids here, but I don't miss it very much anymore. I have books and friends in the village and – I have a life there. More than I ever had here."
"I'm so sorry, Chris," Angie said, completely ignoring what I'd just told them. I'd known three years ago that she'd say that if I told her. I didn't want to hear it, but there was no escaping them now. I'd told Lucas as much. You can want to be something other than who you are, but you can't get there by running away.
"I think I should go back to the hospital," I said. They wanted to ask questions, they wanted to come with me, but what we had been in the city and what we were now were too different, and they didn't fight too hard. Angie drove me back to the hospital and left me with a careful, pitying hug I didn't want.
When I walked in, the doctor from the night before was looking for me. Someone had dug up my medical records, finally, and called one of my city doctors, and he'd shouted at them for probably longer than they deserved: I should have my heart examined immediately and be under constant care, the strain of travel to the city and my injury liable to kill me if someone wasn't watching over me.
"So," she said, a little breathlessly, as she explained the situation, "we want you in the hospital for at least another few hours. An electrocardiogram at least."
"What does my insurance say?" I asked sourly.
"I imagine your premiums are high enough," she replied, smiling. "Mr. Dusk, if you want to be certain you're not going to drop dead of heart failure tomorrow, you should have the tests done."
"And what if they tell me I'm going to drop dead of heart failure tomorrow?" I asked. She studied me, fingers twining up the stethoscope's tubing into loops.
"Well, we just won't let that happen," she said finally. "How's your hand feel?"
"My hand feels fine," I answered.
"Good. Come this way."
They put me through a few basic tests, and I was too experienced with them and too tired to worry much about the indignity of sitting in a waiting room in a hospital gown. When we were finally done another doctor wanted to examine my hand, so I had to sit still while he unwound the bandage, prodded at the ragged wound, and gave me a scrutinizing look.
"Looks like a dog bite," he said finally.
"Well, it's a person-bite," I answered. I may have been sharp, but I was more than ready to be done with hospitals for a while.
"See these canines here?" he asked, pointing to two especially deep punctures.
"Look, I got it when I shoved my fingers down someone's throat and they had a spasm," I snapped. "They gave me plenty of shots, so if you could wrap me up again I'd appreciate it."
"Hm. Don't shoot the messenger," he answered, but he bandaged the hand again quickly. "You need the name of a hand specialist?"
"No, thank you."
They left me alone after that, and I rubbed the throbbing heel of my hand against my hip as I made my way back to Lucas's room. The volume of Plato was sitting on the bench where I'd left it when Angie came to take me to breakfast. I picked up the book and stood at the door, hand resting on it at chest-height, then pushed it open.
Lucas was leaning against the bed, his back to me. He was easing a hospital pajama shirt over his shoulders, and his hair stuck out in all directions as his head emerged from the collar. He moved slowly, as if he were tired and in pain.
"My parents are gone already," he said, before I had a chance to speak. "They spoke well of you."
"I'd hope so," I said. "I stopped their moron son from killing himself."
"Christopher, please don't – "
"Too late," I said. "What the hell were you thinking?"
He turned then, eyes big and dark in his face. "What was I thinking? Isn't that pretty obvious?"
"No, it's not!" I shouted. He glanced nervously at the door and I lowered my tone. "It's not obvious what you were thinking because nobody in their right mind – who does that? Did you even know what would happen? Did you think about it at all?"
"Every waking moment," he hissed.
"Oh, so you thought about how I'd feel?"
"This wasn't about you!"
"You made it about me! You made me your secret-keeper. We were friends. I care about you. And even if it wasn't about me did you consider the possibility that the boy might be the one to find you? Because he did find you. He dragged me out to The Pines. He called the helicopter to come get you. Right now he's probably back in Low Ferry wondering if you're alive or dead."