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276 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1994
The women were home. They got to talk. I'm not sure it wasn't better. Think of it, the luxury of talking to another woman and feeling your three-year-old idly pressing his head into your stomach, instead of being fined for picking him up late at day care -- again.
'All right. I guess I understand what your wishes are.'
I stand. 'I intend to bring him home. Recovered.'
Nothing. Polite vacancy.
'If you don't think that's possible, I'd like you stay out of his room.'
'I'm the head nurse here, Mrs. Berman. I go into every patient's room, every day.'
'Well, don't talk to him,' I say. 'Don't touch him.'