Runaway

those tracks on her stomach? How could she be sure that they had not got her as a replacement? If there was one big thing she hadn’t known about, why could there not be another?
    This notion was unsettling, but it had a distant charm.
    The next time Lauren came into the hotel lobby after school, she was coughing.
    “Come on upstairs,” Delphine said. “I got some good stuff for that.”
    Just as she was putting out the
Ring Bell for Service
sign Mr. Palagian entered the lobby from the coffee shop. On one foot he wore a shoe and on the other a slipper, slit open to accommodate a bandaged foot. Just about where his big toe must be there was a dried blood spot.
    Lauren thought that Delphine would take the sign down when she saw Mr. Palagian, but she didn’t. All she said to him was, “You better change that bandage when you get a chance.”
    Mr. Palagian nodded but did not look at her.
    “I’ll be down in a bit,” she told him.
    Her room was up on the third floor, under the eaves. Climbing and coughing, Lauren said, “What happened to his foot?”
    “What foot?” said Delphine. “Could be somebody stepped on it, I guess. Maybe with the heel of their shoe, eh?”
    The ceiling of her room sloped steeply on either side of a dormer window. There was a single bed, a sink, a chair, a bureau. On the chair a hot plate with a kettle on it. On the bureau a crowded array of makeup, combs and pills, a tin of tea bags and a tin of hot chocolate powder. The bedspread was of thin tan-and-white striped seersucker, like the ones on the guest beds.
    “Not very fixed up, is it?” Delphine said. “I don’t spend a lot of time here.” She filled the kettle at the sink and plugged in the hot plate, then yanked off the bedspread to remove a blanket. “Get out of that jacket,” she said. “Wrap yourself up warm in this.” She touched the radiator. “It takes all day for any heat to get up here.”
    Lauren did as she was told. Two cups and two spoons were taken out of the top drawer, hot chocolate was measured from the tin. Delphine said, “I only make it with hot water. I guess you’re used to milk. I don’t take milk in tea or anything. I bring it up here, it just goes sour. I don’t have any refrigerator.”
    “It’s fine with water,” said Lauren, though she had never drunk hot chocolate that way. She had a sudden wish to be at home, wrapped up on the sofa and watching TV.
    “Well, don’t just stand there,” said Delphine, in a slightly irritated or nervous voice. “Sit down and get comfortable. The kettle won’t take long.”
    Lauren sat on the edge of the bed. Suddenly Delphine turned around, grabbed her under the arms—causing her to start coughing again—and hauled her up so that she was sitting with her back against the wall and her feet sticking out over the floor. Her boots were pulled off, and Delphine quickly squeezed her feet, to see if her socks were wet.
    No.
    “Hey. I was going to get you something to fix that cough. Where’s my cough syrup?”
    From the same top drawer came a bottle half-full of amber liquid. Delphine poured out a spoonful. “Open up,” she said. “Doesn’t taste so dreadful.”
    Lauren, when she’d swallowed, said, “Is there whisky in it?”
    Delphine peered at the bottle, which had no label.
    “I don’t see where it says so. Can you see? Are your mommy and daddy going to have a fit if I give you a spoon of whisky for your cough?”
    “Sometimes my dad makes me a toddy.”
    “He does, does he?”
    Now the kettle was boiling and the water was poured into the cups. Delphine stirred hurriedly, mashing the lumps, talking to them.
    “Come on, you buggers. Come on, you.” Pretending to be jolly.
    There was something wrong with Delphine today. She seemed too flustered and excited, maybe angry underneath. Also, she was way too big, too flouncy and glossy, for this room.
    “You look around this place,” she said, “and I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, wow, she must be poor. Why doesn’t she have more stuff? But I don’t accumulate stuff. For the very good reason that I’ve had too many experiences of having to pick up and move on. Just get settled, you find something happens and you have to move on. I save, though. People would be surprised what I’ve got in the bank.”
    She gave Lauren her cup, and settled herself carefully at the head of the bed, the pillow at her back, her stockinged feet on the exposed sheet. Lauren had a particular