The door led into a hall back into another room like this, another door, another corridor, and then the bathroom. Dee sat in the stall. She had to shit but then couldn’t. It was trapped inside her like everything else. The door squeaked open and someone came in the stall beside her. The protracted silence became funny and she wanted to laugh, but she couldn’t get it out, and her face was getting red. She was scared of an aneurysm; she was pushing that hard. And then she was done. Malcolm’s assistant pulled out three paper towels in quick succession and balled them together. “I’m praying for you.”

“What?”

“I’m praying for you.”

“Why?”

“I’m praying for you to have the strength.”

“You’ll have to stop saying that.”

“I can’t stop praying for you.”

“Prayers have nothing to do with it. It’s the lawyers.”

“Prayers are in my heart.”

“Why would you…? I’ve never heard anything so stupid.”

“I’m praying for you through this difficult time.”

“Jesus Christ!” Dee’s hands cramped around the empty air. “You say that again and I’ll have to punch you!”

“Excuse me?”

“Say that one more time and I will punch you in the jaw. Got it?”

She peered back, her eyes pleading with Dee to find peace and love in everyone’s heart.