We are in the Dammert assisted-eating dining room. Marilyn is here, and Bob, and Anna, and others. Marilyn has taken up something of a supervisory role among her fellow residents. "What's she doing?" she asks Bob, who is seated across from her today, not his usual spot. "Who?" he says. Of course he can't see anything. "The woman at the table behind you," says Marilyn, "with what looks like a skinny chicken with no fur." I am not sure what Marilyn is looking at. I could not see who she was seeing. Maybe it was Donna with the baby doll. A CNA brings another resident in. Anna tries to get her attention. "Will you come over here?" asks Anna. "You're so biiiig." "You know what I want?" asks Bob, in his general way. "How about a, how about a...." He trails off; never finishes the sentence. He takes a drink from an empty cup. Sister Caroline is at the table with Anna. Sister Caroline's mouth is always moving, testing the shape or the sounds of words she rarely says out loud. Anna warbles on in her fey way, wren-like: bubbly, chipper, persistent. "Hey. She gave up all that stuff. I don't know what," says Bob. At the table with me and my dad are Lillian and Jackie. OGs all around. "And it's not necessarily good," says Lillian, "but it't better than nothing." A CNA comes along to put Bob's clothing protector on him. "Doctor?" he says to the CNA. "Oh no. You're not the doctor. You got your hands on me. Oh yeah. You put your hands on me. Talkin' water." The CNA goes out to get another resident to bring in. Bob is still talking to them, to anyone. "Need some water," says Bob. "Water. Shit." It seems Marilyn found her way out of Dammert this morning. She wheeled herself all the way over to the main entrance. I saw a CNA wheeling her through the main dining room, from the direction of the main entrance. I thought maybe Marilyn had been getting her hair done. Now I'm starting to put it together. Lillian is looking at me. "You want me to read or do you want to read?" she asks. I don't say anything. "We'll let it through, OK," she continues. "Are you in any of the services?" I shake my head. "I'm in the military," she says. "The ones after me, buying them up. I'm Lillian. Whisham. My husband's in the Navy..."
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