Chapter 55

"I don't usually come into places like this," I said. "Neither do I," Billy quickly agreed. "But I wasn't feelin' well, and when I get like this, I start thinkin' about my family—my dad and all—and I need a drink or somethin' to keep me solid." "Not feeling well?" He was following along just like I wanted him to. "No. I get these weak sessions. Can't move too well. The doctors tell me just to stay in my room then. But it's almost spot on the time last year that dad left me, and I couldn't just stay cooped up thinkin' about that and all." "That's really too . . ." he said in a low, sympathetic voice. "And then I saw you," I interrupted, workin' to keep him with me and not doin' too much thinking on his own. "And you reminded me of Dad. Sort of. The dad as I liked to think of him, and . . . oh . . . excuse me. I feel a little faint." "You OK?" Billy asked, his voice full of concern. He'd laid his hand on my arm as I swayed just a bit, and I could feel the heat and tremble in his touch. "