“Look,” I said to the nurse when he came in sometime later with a food tray. “I’m having a rough time of it.”
He put the tray down on the table and then turned to look at me with his dark eyes and reserved expression. But he nodded, and my hopes rose momentarily.
“That will be the withdrawal from the Demerol. It cannot be avoided. The body must pay for the vacation it has taken. I am sorry.”
I regarded him a bit impatiently and then reached out, grabbing the man’s wrist. Momentarily, the sensation of physical contact, and the awareness that I had initiated that contact, distracted me. I had felt something felt like a slight electric shock at the touch. But the next instant I returned to the issue at hand: my predicament.
I smiled beseechingly. “Couldn’t I have just one more dose?”
He
