Edward Adrift

was there in my dream. She said, “He’s going into the ground now, Edward.”
    That’s when I woke up.
    I lean to my left and flip on the light in my room. I’m back in room number four. Sheila Renfro told me I could stay in her little cottage, but I declined. I told her that if I stayed there, she wouldn’t have anywhere to sleep. She said we could share her bed—not that we’d do anything, she said, just that we could shareit. I didn’t feel comfortable with that. I also told her that I would just as soon pay her for the time I spend here, and she got angry about that, which flummoxed me. She said I was her guest. I said that she had already lost a lot of money by closing down while I was in the hospital. She said she would think about it. So that’s where we are now. She’s in her cottage, I’m in room number four, and she’s thinking about it.
    Sheila Renfro wrote down her direct home number on a piece of paper. If I have any distress at all, I’m to pick up the in-room phone, dial nine, and then dial that number. So far, there has been no distress, only a perplexing dream.
    Slowly, I rotate my legs to the side of the bed and sit up. The pain is considerable, much worse than it was just a few hours ago. According to the clock, I can have another pain pill, and I think it’s wise that I take advantage.
    The pain hits me again as I stand. I walk, blinking, to the bathroom and get a Percocet and fill a cup with water, and then I wash the pill down. With that done, I head back to bed and turn on the TV. Given the limited selection of channels, there’s not much on, just a late-night movie on one of the Denver stations. Jim Carrey, who used to be funny, is in it. I decide I’m not interested and turn it off.
    When Sheila Renfro was driving me back here from Denver, I tried once to ask her about what my mother said to her the night before, but all that business with nicknames made me forget the question. At dinner, I remembered.
    “What did my mother say to you?” I asked.
    “She asked what my intentions are.”
    “About what?”
    “You, I guess.”
    “You have intentions?”
    “Yes. I intend for you to eat that dinner I put in front of you. It’s getting cold.”
    I laughed, but Sheila Renfro didn’t laugh in return. She was serious.
    “What did you say?”
    “You know what I said. You were there. I told her it was none of her business.”
    “What did she say?”
    “She asked to talk to you again. Look, Edward—”
    “Call me E-Dog.”
    Sheila Renfro did not smile.
    “Look, I get it. She cares about you and she doesn’t know me. I’m a grown woman. I don’t care to be talked to like that by anyone.”
    “She hasn’t had a chance to know you.”
    “That’s not what I mean.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean, if she knew anything about me, she’d know that you and I are more alike than we are different.”
    “What do you mean?”
    Sheila Renfro stood up and collected the dishes, hers and mine. “I wish you’d eat more,” she said. She carried the dishes into the kitchen.
    “What do you mean?” I asked again.
    “I’m too tired tonight, Edward. Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”
    After dinner, I stepped outside to call my mother in private, because my questions for her were similar to the ones I asked Sheila Renfro. I didn’t get any better answers.
    “I’ll just be glad when you’re home, where you belong,” my mother said. After that, there wasn’t much left to talk about, so we said our good-byes and I went back inside.
    I didn’t see Sheila Renfro for very long after that. She suggested that we both turn in early and get some rest after the stress of the past few days, and that seemed logical to me.
    She walked me to room number four and let me in, and she reiterated (I love the word “reiterated”) that I was to call her if I had any trouble at all.
    “I will, Sheila Renfro.”
    Next, something extraordinary happened. She took one step toward me and stood on her tiptoes and she kissed me on the mouth. It was quick—she kissed like a bird pecks—but it was a real kiss-on-the-lips kiss, my first real one. A girl in high school let me kiss her once, but that was just so she could embarrass me in front of her friends.
    This was the real thing.
    It made me feel warm and happy and flummoxed, flummoxed, flummoxed.

OFFICIALLY MONDAY, DECEMBER 19, 2011
    From the logbook of Edward Stanton, as recorded by Edward Stanton again:
    Time I woke up today: 2:11 a.m. and