CHAPTER 32

HE DID NOT KNOW how long he slept, but when he woke, the acute pain had subsided. He turned to his right and saw Alejandro. He was sitting in a plastic chair, drinking coffee from a Styrofoam cup and watching TV. It was local news. Channel four.

“Good morning,” he said, turning to Berg.

“Morning,” Berg said. He looked at Alejandro for a moment, and then trained his gaze on the television. He stared, blinking, as the news anchor ran through the day’s headlines. Someone had won millions of dollars in the mega-jackpot lottery. A thawed reindeer carcass was being blamed for an anthrax outbreak. Stock prices had risen and fallen and then risen again.

“Would you like a coffee?” Alejandro asked, watching him.

Berg shook his head.

“Some food?”

“No.”

There was a whirring noise coming from some unidentifiable location. Outside he could hear the hiss and squirt of a sprinkler. Berg felt sore and weak and the more conscious he became, the more ashamed he felt. Fragments of memory returned to him, the foul things he’d said. He needed to apologize to the nurse and the doctor. He needed to apologize and then flee this place. He never wanted any of these people to see his face again.

“You’re going to be okay,” Alejandro said.

“I don’t know,” Berg said.

“Just deal with today,” Alejandro said. “All you can do is deal with today.”

“Why are you here?” Berg asked.

Alejandro took a sip of his coffee.

“I’m here because I care about you,” he said.

“I’m an asshole. I’m a fucking drug addict asshole who screams at doctors.”

“That was the naloxone. That wasn’t you.”

“You don’t even know me,” Berg said. “You don’t. I’m not who you think I am.”

“Well tell me who you are then.”

Berg said nothing.

“Berg, you are very lucky,” Alejandro continued. “That’s what I’m thinking right—”

“I stole things,” Berg said, interrupting him. “I stole things from people’s homes. From your home. I lied to you, I lied to Nell.”

“Okay.”

“So now you know.”

“Now I know,” Alejandro said.

“Do you know what I stole?”

“I could make an educated guess.”

Berg stared at him.

“Oh stop,” Alejandro said. “You think your pain makes you so special and complicated? That there’s something so crazy about you? There isn’t.”

“I lied…”

“And?”

Berg said nothing.

“You just need to come back to this world, to the truth of things,” Alejandro said. His voice was fierce. “Right now. Do it now.”

Berg looked out the window at a brown rooftop. They were on the second floor. Next door he could hear the nurses helping treat a new patient. She’d sprained her ankle while hiking that morning, it seemed. The smell of hospital was everywhere: plastic and disinfectant and urine. He wanted to go home.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking back toward Alejandro. “I’m sorry.” He was crying, shaking slightly. Alejandro walked over to him and put his hand on his shoulder. Berg could feel a growing tightness in his forehead and his jaw. A headache was brewing, gathering force by the moment, its clouds condensing. It would be upon him in no time.