CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Jesus, man, you don’t look so great.” Eric Coffman helped Lindsey into the front seat of his Mercury station wagon. Mother was already settled in the back.
Lindsey said, “Well, thanks anyhow for coming all the way in here for us. Actually I don’t feel too great, either, but I didn’t want to hang around that hospital any more. It’s full of sick people.”
Coffman grunted.
“That’s a joke,” Lindsey said. He couldn’t turn to the left without provoking major pain from his shoulder. The wound had been clean, the sharp bone fragments had been cleaned out—thank heaven!—and with a cast and a sling in place, Lindsey had been discharged.
He’d had to sign Mother out as well as himself, but even by telephone Ms. Hernández and Joanie Schorr had been more than willing to help out wit
