W Is for Wasted

paparazzi have caught off guard. What a shock it is to see legendary beauties looking washed-out and furtive, with matted hair, puffy lids, and splotchy complexions; flaws made all the more alarming for the images we carry of them, creamy-skinned and doe-eyed with tresses artfully tousled and sprayed to a hard shine. My looks fall somewhere between the two extremes, but closer to the puffy end. To my credit, I don’t misrepresent my basic attributes with a lot of gunk. Anyone who’s startled to see
me
looking splotchy hasn’t been paying attention.
    It was 4:55 when I knocked on Henry’s back door. I was feeling more curious about Dietz than uneasy, which shows you what a moron I am. Dietz wasn’t due for an hour and I was grateful for a brief interlude alone with Henry so I could fill him in on my trip to Bakersfield.
    Henry let me in. He’d already opened a bottle of Chardonnay, resting now in a cooler on the kitchen counter. I grant you it was a teeny tiny bit early for a glass of wine, but how could I refuse the half a glass when he handed it to me? He poured himself a tot of Black Jack over ice and we sat down at the kitchen table.
    One of Henry’s many endearing qualities is his interest in matters that are of interest to me. He has remarkable recall of my past attitudes and behaviors, and he doesn’t hesitate to bring inconsistencies to my attention. He’s also free with his opinions even if they don’t coincide with mine, which is an irritating trait but one that I’ve come to appreciate.
    He had two freshly baked loaves of bread sitting on a towel on his kitchen counter, and his oven was exuding enough mild heat and roasting aromas to make the room feel cozy. I knew he’d serve a salad and something simple for dessert. Of particular interest on this occasion was the presence of the cat, who had apparently taken possession of Henry and everything related to him. Ed had been in residence only briefly when I’d taken off for Bakersfield. I could still hardly believe I’d been there so short a time when it felt like I’d been gone for so long.
    I said, “Tell me about Felix. How’s he doing?”
    Henry waggled his outstretched hand in a gesture that indicated not so good. “After supper, we can go over to St. Terry’s, if you like. He’s unconscious, so you can’t actually visit but you could look in on him. The nurses are kind, but I don’t like being underfoot. As one nurse put it, ICU doesn’t lend itself to looky-loos.”
    “No improvement at all?”
    “They’ve been pumping him with antibiotics, which I gather hasn’t done much good. In a situation like this, things tend to go from bad to worse. I don’t mean to sound so pessimistic, but there’s no point in mincing words.”
    “How’s Pearl holding up?”
    “She’s currently off on a bender from what I hear. Your friend Dandy as well.”
    “You can’t be serious.”
    “Oh, yes. I was at the hospital last night and Pearl was conspicuously absent. She’d been at his bedside, as faithful as a hound, whenever she was allowed. Suddenly, no sign of her, so I stopped by the shelter as soon as I left the hospital. I couldn’t get a word out of Ken, the guy at the desk, but one of the residents heard me ask about her and he took me aside, which is when others chimed in.”
    “Are they holed up someplace?”
    “Someone suggested a sports bar in the area. I don’t know the name.”
    “Dandy mentioned the place. They play darts there on weekends if they’re sober enough.”
    “I doubt they’re playing darts. I’d have looked for them myself, but I don’t have the patience.”
    Throughout this exchange, Ed was sitting in Henry’s rocking chair, following the conversation solemnly with his oval eyes, the one blue, the other green. He was short-haired and white, with a patch of black over the right side of his face and touches of black and caramel on the left. His ears stood straight up, triangles lined with pink and edged in black. His stub of a tail looked like a black-and-tan powder puff. Henry regarded him with a doting expression, which the cat seemed to think was entirely his due.
    I nodded at the cat. “How’s he been? Looks like he’s settled in and made himself at home.”
    “He’s a very good boy. He’s caught everything from mice to moles. Two lizards yesterday and one today.”
    “I hope no birds or bunnies.”
    “Of course not. We had a chat about that and I explained his limitations. He comes when