"That's all I can do for you," he said. He handed me a bottle of pills. "Here are some tablets to take in an emergency. Now get out."
"Call me a cab, Doc."
I listened while he called, then lit a cigarette and watched through the curtains. The doc stood by, worrying his upper plate and eyeing me. So far I hadn't had to tinker with his mind, but it would be a good idea to check. I felt my way delicately.
—oh God, why did I ... long time ago ... Mary ever knew ... go to Arizona, start again, too old.... I saw the nest of fears that gnawed at him, the frustration and the faint flicker of hope but not quite dead. I touched his mind, wiped away scars....
"Here's your car," he said. He opened the door, looking at me. I started past him.
"Are you sure you're all right?" he said.
"Sure, Pop. And don't worry. Everything's going to be okay."
The driver put my boxes on the back seat. I got in beside him and told him to take me to a men's clothing store. He waited while I changed my hand-me-downs for an off-the-hook suit, new shirt and underwear and a replacement beret. It was the only kind of hat that didn't hurt. My issue shoes were still good, but I traded them in on a new pair, added a light raincoat, and threw in a sturdy suitcase for good measure. The clerk said something about money and I dropped an idea into his mind, paused long enough to add a memory of a fabulous night with a redhead. He hardly noticed me leaving.
I tried not to feel like a shop-lifter. After all, it's not every day a man gets a chance to swap drygoods for dreams.