Doctor Sleep

not-understanding all of your wrongs, and you’ve told one other person—that would be me— most of your wrongs. Would that be a bingo?”
    Dan said nothing.
    “Here’s what I think,” Casey said, “and you’re welcome to correct me if I’m wrong. Steps eight and nine are about cleaning up the wreckage we left behind when we were drunk on our asses pretty much twenty-four/seven. I think at least partof your work at the hospice, the important part, is about making those amends. And I think there’s one wrong you can’t quite get past because you’re too fucking ashamed to talk about it. If that’s the case, you wouldn’t be the first, believe me.”
    Dan thought: Mama .
    Dan thought: Canny .
    He saw the red wallet and the pathetic wad of food stamps. He also saw a little money. Seventy dollars, enoughfor a four-day drunk. Five if it was parceled out carefully and food was kept to a bare nutritional minimum. He saw the money first in his hand and then going into his pocket. He saw the kid in the Braves shirt and the sagging diaper.
    He thought: The kid’s name was Tommy.
    He thought, not for the first time or the last: I will never speak of this.
    “Danno? Is there anything you want to tell me?I think there is. I don’t know how long you’ve been dragging the motherfucker around, but you can leave it with me and walk out of here a hundred pounds lighter. That’s how it works.”
    He thought of how the kid had trotted to his mother
    ( Deenie her name was Deenie )
    and how, even deep in her drunken slumber, she had put an arm around him and hugged him close. They had been face-to-face in themorning sun shafting through the bedroom’s dirty window.
    “There’s nothing,” he said.
    “Let it go, Dan. I’m telling you that as your friend as well as your sponsor.”
    Dan gazed at the other man steadily and said nothing.
    Casey sighed. “How many meetings have you been at where someone said you’re only as sick as your secrets? A hundred? Probably a thousand. Of all the old AA chestnuts, that’sjust about the oldest.”
    Dan said nothing.
    “We all have a bottom,” Casey said. “Someday you’re going to have to tell somebody about yours. If you don’t, somewhere down the line you’re going to find yourself in a bar with a drink in your hand.”
    “Message received,” Dan said. “Now can we talk about the Red Sox?”
    Casey looked at his watch. “Another time. I’ve got to get home.”
    Right, Dan thought. To your dog and your goldfish .
    “Okay.” He grabbed the check before Casey could. “Another time.”
    4
    When Dan got back to his turret room, he looked at his blackboard for a long time before slowly erasing what was written there:
    They are killing the baseball boy!
    When the board was blank again, he asked, “What baseball boy would that be?”
    No answer.
    “Abra? Are you still here?”
    No. But shehad been; if he’d come back from his uncomfortable coffee meeting with Casey ten minutes earlier, he might have seen her phantom shape. But had she come for him? Dan didn’t think so. It was undeniably crazy, but he thought she might have come for Tony. Who had been his invisible friend, once upon a time. The one who sometimes brought visions. The one who sometimes warned.The one who had turnedout to be a deeper and wiser version of himself.
    For the scared little boy trying to survive in the Overlook Hotel, Tony had been a protective older brother. The irony was that now, with the booze behind him, Daniel Anthony Torrance had become an authentic adult and Tony was still a kid. Maybe even the fabled inner child the New Age gurus were always going on about. Dan felt sure that inner-childstuff was brought into service to excuse a lot of selfish and destructive behavior (what Casey liked to call the Gotta-Have-It-Now Syndrome), but he also had no doubt that grown men and women held every stage of their development somewhere in their brains—not just the inner child, but the inner infant, the inner teenager, and the inner young adult. And if the mysterious Abra came to him, wasn’tit natural that she’d hunt past his adult mind, looking for someone her own age?
    A playmate?
    A protector, even?
    If so, it was a job Tony had done before. But did she need protection? Certainly there had been anguish
    ( they are killing the baseball boy )
    in her message, but anguish went naturally with the shining, as Dan had found out long ago. Mere children were not meant to know and see somuch. He