CHIP RAN AWAY ONE MORNING IN FEBRUARY AND STILL HADN’T BEEN found when Bob arrived at the center that afternoon. It was a cold day, getting colder and likely to snow, and Chip’s coat hung on a peg by the door. Maria was pulling on her own coat as Bob walked up to meet her. She explained what had happened and asked Bob to stick around in case Chip returned or if someone called in with news of her location. The center was empty; Bob asked where everyone was, and Maria told him, “The shuttles don’t run when the roads turn icy. The nurses and interns are all out looking for Chip; the residents are hiding out in their rooms. Stay by the phone, all right? And keep an eye out the window?” She hurried off and Bob sat at her desk, snooping mildly but finding nothing worth mulling over. He heard the high suffering whine of Linus’s wheelchair; now he was parked in the office doorway.
“Knock knock.”
“Who’s there?”
“What are we doing?”
“What are we doing who?”
“What are we doing sitting around like pussies when we could be out there with the rest, looking for Chip?”
“I’m surprised to hear you care.”
“I’m offended to hear you’re surprised.”
“I’m apologetic at your being offended.”
“I’m accepting of your apology.”
Bob pointed at the desk. “Maria asked me to stay in case Chip comes back or someone calls about her.”
“Okay, but let’s go anyway. Look at that, holy shit, it’s snowing.”
It was snowing, Bob now noticed: angled and heavy. Bob thought of Chip outdoors in her pink sweatsuit and was inclined to agree with Linus that they should mobilize and pitch in. When he said as much, Linus clapped, snapped, pointed, and backed his chair up, zooming away to gather his things from his room upstairs. Bob pulled on his outerwear and was standing in the half-dark Great Room waiting for Linus to return when he noticed that Jill was sitting at her card table, squinting at a puzzle. Jill, per Bob’s pitch to Maria, had recently become a resident at the center. Contrary to his theory, however, this had done little to allay her naturally occurring misery; Bob thought she looked even more tragic than usual, and he invited her to come along with Linus and himself. Peering out the window, she shook her head.
“Will you be all right on your own?” asked Bob.
“So far so good.”
Linus and Bob exited the center and began their cautious descent down the snow-slick zigzagging path. They were almost to the sidewalk when Jill appeared in the doorway, calling out to Bob: “Wait for me! I’ve changed my mind! I’m coming with you!” Bob gave her a thumbs-up and Jill ducked back into the center to fetch her things. She moved with an agility and speed that surprised Bob. Because he’d never seen her upright before, and within the context of the center, he’d assumed she was not able to walk. “I didn’t know Jill could walk,” Bob told Linus, who made a yikes face. When Jill came stepping down the path, Linus, smiling now, said, “Bob didn’t know you could walk, Jill.”
Jill stopped in her tracks. “Fuck you, Bob.”
“Hey,” Bob said.
“Hey nothing.” She reached up her gloved hand to touch her hair. “Shoot, I forgot my hat. I’ll be right back. You guys’ll wait for me, right?”
“We’ll wait,” said Bob.
“But hurry up,” said Linus.
Jill paused. “Okay, but you’ll wait?”
“Yes,” said Bob.
“But hurry,” said Linus.
Jill retreated back up the path to the center.
Linus said, “You hurt her feelings, Bob. Her feeling.”
“Actually, you did, big-mouth.”
Linus looked up innocently. “How was I supposed to know not to say anything?”
“It was inferred.”
“You inferred nothing.”
“Decorum infers it.”
Jill returned without a hat, explaining the front door was locked up tight, and she asked Bob for a key, but neither he nor Linus had one. The sky was darkening as the day pushed toward dusk, the snow continued to fall, the temperature dropping. Jill asked, “What are we going to do?”
“The answer to every problem is money,” Linus stated confidently. “Now, how much have we got? I, personally, have none.”
“Me neither,” said Jill.
“I have money,” said Bob.
“If Bob’s flush, we’re flush too, Jill. Now comes the question of, what are we going to spend our money on?”
Jill was not in the mood to engage in humors. The snow was attacking her face and collecting in a crystalline loaf atop her diminutive head. Bob pushed the loaf away, took off his watchman’s cap, and pulled it down over Jill’s ears. Partly he felt it the chivalrous thing to do, but also he was hopeful the gesture would play in his favor and that she would forgive him his earlier social error. She thanked him, not effusively but with sincerity, which he took as a sign there would likely be peace between them.
The trio struck out in search of Chip, with Linus in the lead, Bob and Jill pulling up the rear, walking side by side. They’d not traveled two blocks when Linus pointed at a movie theater across the street and said, “You guys want to go see a matinee?”
“We’re looking for Chip, Linus,” Bob said.
“But they serve pizza, beer — chocolate. And maybe that’s where Chip is, did you ever think of that? Just sitting in there waiting for us.” Bob made no reply to this but walked on in silence. Linus said, “This was a huge mistake.” Bob said nothing. Linus swung his chair around to face Bob. “I never should have listened to you!”