After a while, Sarah got some warm milk into me and then she felt my head very gently, but not so gently that it didn’t hurt fiendishly when she passed her fingers over a bump that felt like a billiard ball attached to my skull.
She said, «I can’t tell if your skull is broken or not.»
I said, «It isn’t broken. If it were broken, I’d be in a coma.»
«How do you know?»
«Well, it isn’t broken.»
«You do have a concussion. You’ve got to.»
«Sure, but there’s nothing to be done about a concussion but sleep. So let me sleep. I’ll be okay in the morning.»
«You might be bleeding inside. I think we should call a doctor.»
«No,» I said. «Doctors won’t come anyway. Let me sleep. Come back tomorrow morning and if I don’t answer the door, then call an ambulance.»
«Oh, don’t be a fool,» she said, and drew up an armchair and sat down in it.
«You can’t stay here all night.»
«How can you stop me?»
I groaned and after that I don’t remember at all what happened. I think I talked. I don’t recall talking about Giles’s murder, though I must have. It seems to me I talked a lot about Asimov. God only knows what I said, but I seem to remember saying that there ought to be a law against anyone having so little trouble writing.
I keep running into that sort of thing. It doesn’t seem to occur to any of my good friends of the writing world that I suffer as much as they do, but hide it by grit, determination, and stoicism.
And then I went to sleep and that was it. There were no dreams that I can remember. Nothing! I might as well have died.
Part Four
WEDNESDAY, MAY 28, 1975
1 SARAH VOSKOVEK 9:00 A.M.
I must have fallen asleep about eleven. I woke up at nearly nine. I was asleep ten hours, which is four hours more than I can usually manage.
I didn’t move for a while, just stared at the ceiling, wondering what the hell everything was all about. Then I turned my head, because there was a distinct sense of someone being there and it was Sarah Voskovek in a chair, looking at me with her dark eyes big and anxious.
I started up, and then sank back with a groan because my head stabbed at me. It jogged what memory I had.
Sarah said, «Do you know who I am?»
I had both my hands on my head and said pettishly, «Of course I know who you are. You’re Sarah Voskovek. And if you wait a minute, I’ll sort everything out. We had dinner last night, right?»
«Yes. And afterward?»
«There was a fight in the park. Right? What happened afterward? Did you bring me home?»
«Yes.»
«And you stayed—Pardon me, but I’ve got to go to the bathroom. Will you help me up?»
She did and then she held on to me while I made it there.
I said, «All right. You can’t stay here. What do you want to do, hold it for me? Besides, that’s not all that’s got to be done.»
She said, «What if you fall?»
«Then you’ll hear a bump. Please get out.»
She did, but I’m sure she stayed near the door. Talk about inhibiting factors! Try relaxing on the throne with some strange girl—some nearly strange girl, anyway—placing her ear to the crack of the door. There’s something to kill romance.
I felt much better afterward and that’s what I told her when I came out and she said, «How do you feel?»
I said, «I feel all right. Just this sore spot on my head, but everything else is perfectly normal. Lots of it is coming back, but I don’t remember much of the detail about coming home.»
«Nothing to remember, Darius. I just got you to bed.»
«And you sat up all night to watch over me?»
I thought I had said it sardonically, but she said, «If you can’t have me as a villain, you want me as an angel of mercy.» (I didn’t at that point remember her remark the night before about me wanting her to be a villain so she’d be interesting, so I didn’t quite get it then; I did later.)
«Actually,» she went on, «I’m just a human being. It might have been in my head to watch over you like a mother, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I fell asleep and spent most of the night asleep. I woke up only an hour before you. If you had needed a doctor in the night, I would never have known.»
«But you slept in the chair.»
«It’s a pretty comfortable chair. And I got mostly undressed and borrowed a second pair of your pajamas. I’ll pay for the cleaning.»
«Don’t be stupid. Do you want the bathroom?»
«I’ve already used it. There was not time to ask permission. Of course, I’m a little grubby now. There’s no change of linen for today since I probably won’t have a chance to stop off at home.»
«People have been known not to change for a couple of days and live. Shouldn’t you be at work? It’s after nine.»
«I’ve called the hotel and told them I’ll be late. How about breakfast?»
«Sure. Anything you want that I’ve got.»
So she made an omelet with mushrooms and ham and bamboo shoots that she found a can of. And tomato sauce on top. And coffee. And pineapple juice to start with. It was great.
It was mostly cloudy outside, which was great also. I didn’t want the sun glaring at me. Not till the throbbing died down a bit.
She said, «Do you remember anything you said last night after you went to bed?»
«Did I talk?» I was astonished.
«Yes. You wanted to, and I thought perhaps it was better to let you. If you grew too incoherent, I would know to call an ambulance.»
«But I didn’t, then?»
«No. You switched from topic to topic rather suddenly, but within each group of remarks you made, you were rational.»
I kept my eyes firmly fixed on the plate. «Did I say anything—embarrassing?»
«If you mean, did you discuss your sex life, or did you become blatantly aggressive toward myself, the answer is no, and no. You showed enviable self-control.»
«Just as well. What did I talk about?»
«A little bit of many things. Your writing, your publishers, your parents, the Middle East for a while.»
«Good God. Did I talk world affairs? What did I say?»
«I don’t remember, really. You were most forceful, considering your condition, where Dr. Asimov was concerned.»
I frowned a bit. My head had improved further now that I had some food in me. «I seem to remember that. What did I say?»
«You were rather bitter about the speed and extent of his writing. And you said that he was so secure in his intelligence that he never felt he had to bother showing it. And then you said—I’m not sure about this—»
«Go on, anyway.»
«I think you said that you could learn from that to be so tall that you wouldn’t have to bother looking it.»
I said, «Maybe I mean I didn’t have to go into the park just to show you how tall I was.»
«That’s what I thought, too. But you showed up pretty well, you know.»
«Maybe. It wasn’t coincidence, by the way. That guy was following us, as you had said. He would have followed me to my apartment and tried to get me there, but the park offered an opportunity too good to turn down.»
«I guess I’ll remember it all my life.»
I rubbed my head gingerly. «It’s just as well,» I said, «as long as we’re still alive. As far as I’m concerned, it’s the final proof that Giles was murdered. If you’re covering up a murder, you wouldn’t hesitate to murder again. What other motive was there to follow me—me, specifically—and attack me?»