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circumstances demand it.”
    “So long as you never do.”
    “Never.”
    She smiled the great smile. “I think … a concerto, then.”

Four
    “H OW’S THE SHOULDER?”
    I opened my eyes. Nancy was standing over me, holding Renfield against her blouse, the skirt to a blue suit, pantyhose, and dress shoes already on below it.
    “What time … ?”
    “Going on eight.”
    “You should have gotten me up, Nance.”
    “I wanted to be able to use the bathroom first. Besides, after the ‘grievous injuries’ last night, I thought your body could use the healing power of sleep.” She narrowed her eyes. “Seriously, John, how do you feel?”
    I rolled my left arm a little on the bed. “Okay, I think.”
    “And the knee?”
    I flexed it. “No pain.”
    Nancy exhaled. “I’m so glad.”
    “Of course, I may have a relapse.”
    The canted head. “Calling for an encore on the clarinet?”
    “It’s rapidly becoming my favorite instrument.”
    “We’ll see how frisky you are tonight.”
    “Tonight?”
    She looked at me, a little strangely. “I thought I’d take you out to dinner, to thank you for all your help. Of course, if you have other plans …”
    “I don’t. It’s just—”
    “Fine, then,” she said, but a little subdued, then checking her watch with a very upbeat “I’ve got to go. Occupy Renfield till I’m out of here, then help yourself to the fridge.”
    Easing the cat onto the bed, Nancy kissed me good-bye, but only on the forehead.
    Renfield’s eyes followed her out of the room. As soon as the apartment door closed, he nuzzled my hand, then began licking it, his tongue like sandpaper.
    “Hey, Renfield, leave a little skin on that, okay?”
    He squinted up at me, purred, and doubled the tempo of his licking.
    When his hindquarters got hurt, Nancy took him to the vet’s for the curative operation, but she had to be out of town when it was time to pick him up. When I did, he’d been in bad shape: shaved from the belly downward, groggy from the anesthetic, and hurting from his rearranged legs. I’d stayed up with him that night, and he’d “imprinted” on me, the vet called it. Now it was like he embraced me every time he saw me. I’d never been nuts about cats, but there was something about his attitude that … Jesus, what was wrong with me?
    I rubbed Renfield on the head, then snapped my fingers a couple of times at the edge of the bed, the signal he’d learned for getting down. I threw back the sheets, hopped out of bed, and hit the floor. Literally.
    My left knee had collapsed under me as soon as I put weight on it.
    Renfield scuttled about six feet away from the noise of the impact, then came back cautiously to investigate, making a little moaning sound in his throat. I stayed on the floor, gingerly stretching out the joint. No pain still as I flexed it, and there had been only a brief, searing jolt when the knee buckled. Renfield nuzzled my left leg. I pushed him away, but he kept coming back. I got up using my right leg, very carefully shifting my weight onto the left one. No pain, no apparent weakness, and I found that I could walk fine so long as I kept my weight exactly over my feet.
    Reassuring Renfield that everything was okay, I went out to the kitchen and had some toast and juice. I showered and found a clean shirt I’d left at Nancy’s. Getting dressed in the bedroom, I made another unwelcome discovery. Putting my right arm into the sleeve of my suit jacket and grabbing the right lapel with my left hand to pull the jacket on, nothing happened.
    There was no strength in my left shoulder. I couldn’t draw my left hand across my chest against even the minimal resistance of the jacket sleeve on my right arm. There was just a clicking noise and the same twinge inside the shoulder I’d felt the night before with the bureau.
    I looked at Nancy’s newest piece of furniture. Walking over to it, I kept my weight centered. Then I kicked it in the part of its legs I took to be its