ut again, but it will be too late. Do you believe that you know me better than
some girl I met a month ago?"

"Of *course* I do, Arthur. But why would the hospital take you away if --"

"If I wasn't crazy? I'm in here for observation -- they want to find *out* if
I'm crazy. If *they're* not sure, then you can't be sure, right?"

"All right. Oh, I've been sick with worry."

"I'm sorry, Gran. I need to get through this week and I'll be free and clear and
I'll come back to Toronto."

"I'm going to come down there to see you. Linda told me visitors weren't
allowed, is that true?"

"No, it's not true." I thought about Gran seeing me in the ward amidst the
pukers and the screamers and the droolers and the *fondlers* and flinched away
from the phone. "But if you're going to come down, come for the hearing at the
end of the week. There's nothing you can do here now."

"Even if I can't help, I just want to come and see you. It was so nice when you
were here."

"I know, I know. I'll be coming back soon, don't worry."

If only Gran could see me now, on the infirmary examination table, in four-point
restraint. Good thing she can't.

A doctor looms over me. "How are you feeling, Art?"

"I've had better days," I say, with what I hope is stark sanity and humor.
Aren't crazy people incapable of humor? "I went for a walk and the door swung
shut behind me."

"Well, they'll do that," the doctor says. "My name is Szandor," he says, and
shakes my hand in its restraint.

"A pleasure to meet you," I say. "You're a *doctor* doctor, aren't you?"

"An MD? Yup. There're a couple of us around the place."

"But you're not a shrink of any description?"

"Nope. How'd you guess?"

"Bedside manner. You didn't patronize me."

Dr. Szandor tries to suppress a grin, then gives up. "We all do our bit," he
says. "How'd you get up on the roof without setting off your room alarm,
anyway?"

"If I tell you how I did it, I won't be able to repeat the trick," I say
jokingly. He's swabbing down my shins now with something that stings and cools
at the same time. From time to time, he takes tweezers in hand and plucks loose
some gravel or grit and plinks it into a steel tray on a rolling table by his
side. He's so gentle, I hardly feel it.

"What, you never heard of doctor-patient confidentiality?"

"Is that thing still around?"

"Oh sure! We had a mandatory workshop on it yesterday afternoon. Those are
always a lot of fun."

"So, you're s