Oh Pure and Radiant Heart by Lydia Millet (shoe dog free ebook .txt) 📕

ordered him room service but he showed no interest in eating.

—We need to decide what to do about this, said Szilard.

Larry tried to hand around a joint, but heads were shaken.

—I think he needs medical care, said Oppenheimer. —Isn’t it that simple?

—The problem is, said Szilard, —we have a lot of business. He’s our biggest asset, DNA and fingerprints. We need him.

—He’s not an asset, Leo, said Oppenheimer.

—Why don’t we just get him some peace and quiet, said Ben. —He needs a rest from all this.

—And then there’s the publicity, said Szilard. —Are we going to issue a statement?

—Absolutely not, said Oppenheimer.

Szilard gave a distracted nod.

—I know this one place a friend of mine got sent to, said Larry. —It’s in New Jersey. It’s like a five-star hotel with hot and cold running shrinks. Swear to God, it’s not a bad place to be. Plus they’re totally discreet. No one will ever find out he’s there.

—Does it have gardens? asked Ben.

—With roses and these long paths. It’s got this kind of imitation of that French castle, what’s it called? The one with the king that got his head chopped off. And his wife with the blond curly hair piled up high on the top of her head. She wore those big-ass skirts.

—He would want more than anything to have his mental faculties restored to him, said Szilard. —We should put him where the treatment is highest rated and most aggressive.

—The shrinks at this place are cool, said Larry, nodding reassuringly.

—Why don’t you ask him? said Tamika, from a chair in the corner where she was painting her toenails.

They looked around at each other.

—If we can get through to him, said Larry.

—It should be either you or Ben, said Ann to Oppenheimer. —He trusts the two of you.

Oppenheimer and Ben went out of the room together, leaving the others with the faint sound of the television blaring and the pungent smells of nail polish and marijuana.

He would not say much so they asked a series of questions, trying to narrow down the options.

—You don’t want to stay here, in the hotel, do you? asked Oppenheimer.

—It’s OK, said Fermi eventually.

—But you’d probably rather be somewhere else, said Ben. —Somewhere with a garden.

Fermi said nothing to this, writing steadily.

—Would you like a garden? asked Ben.

—Garden, said Fermi, in a tone of neutrality.

—We’re thinking of taking you to a clinic with a garden, said Oppenheimer, —where there would also be doctors. Would that be all right with you?

Fermi shrugged and turned over his piece of paper.

—Doctors, said Ben, —but we could try to get you gardening privileges, if you wanted.

—Do they have the birds there? asked Fermi.

Ben and Oppenheimer looked at each other.

—There are some birds, said Ben slowly, —but it might be mostly sparrows and doves and pigeons. I can find out for you if you want to know.

—See if they have the birds with the long legs, said Fermi enigmatically. —Then ask me.

—Ben? Would you go call about the birds, please? said Oppenheimer. —I’ll stay here.

Ben went out the door, past Kurt the Hut who was swigging soda and into Larry’s room again, where they all looked up at him. It was only Ann’s face he noticed. She looked sad.

—He wants to know if there are birds at the facility.

—Birds? asked Larry. —Like pet birds? Canaries and shit?

—Wild birds is what he meant. What he said to me before was flamingos or storks or something, waterbirds with long legs, is how he described them.

—I don’t know, said Larry. —Glen, get me information.

While Big Glen dialed Ben sat down beside Ann on the couch. She put one hand on his leg, resting it, and with the other traced the outlines of flowers on the sofa arm.

—How did he seem? she asked softly.

—The same.

—Hey, I’m interested in bringing a patient there, said Larry. —But he needs to know if you got birds. Wild birds. Yeah.

Back in the room with Fermi Ben told Fermi he would have to see for himself what birds there were.

—There are loons though, he added, —I know that. Sometimes you can hear them calling in the morning and at night.

—What do you think, Enrico? asked Oppenheimer. —It’s up to you. Are you willing to give it a shot?

Fermi said nothing for a while, but finally collected his papers and stacked them, tapping the sides for perfect alignment.

—Get me the case, he said in a businesslike tone. —Get me the big suitcase.

—You don’t have a big suitcase, said Ben. —How about a regular suitcase?

—I am ready, said Fermi, and clasped his hands in his lap, waiting stiffly in an upright and regal stance.

The place was like a warm tomb, all silence and marble.

—You wanna know why it’s so quiet? said Larry, as they walked down a shining hall. —Because no one can afford it.

Fermi’s room was spacious, with a tile floor and vast windows that gave him a view over a lake. Oppenheimer waited in the corridor, smoking. Ben put Fermi’s bags down on the floor, Larry checked the bathroom and Ann gazed out the window at clumps of rushes growing at the edge of the water. Salt-smelling wind blew over his face, as though the lake was briny. Behind the black pool of it she could make out a row of low hills, hazy blue with distance.

—Are you going to be OK here? asked Ben, leaning over Fermi where he sat on the side of the bed staring.

—See you later, said Fermi carefully.

With Enrico gone he was more alone. But where we take refuge, thought Oppenheimer, pacing the slick hall, tapping his ash onto the shine at his feet, after all, where we take refuge is where our home is. Fermi had a new home now, in long scrawls on hotel stationery and a distracted absence.

I hope he’s happy there, he thought.

He did not want to resent his friend: he wanted only to be concerned for him. But Fermi had left him abruptly, with no warning—an offense for which, in