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to the humming phone.
    Jesus, I'm really fucked up, he thought. But he wasn't sure what to do about it. Then he dug Sadie's address book out of the junk drawer under the phone, found Dana's phone number and dialed. The line rang four times, then his daughter's voice came on: "Hi, we're out of the apartment now—If it's Mom or Dad, we're at the library studying. Ha, ha, ha. Anyhow, leave your name and number and we'll get back."
    It was only her recording machine.
    This wasn't his eyes this time. And he didn't think it was a seizure either. It was something else.
    Had he imagined the call?
    He didn't think so.
    Maybe he was just going nuts, the booze finally getting to him? Again he recalled Denny Rucker's lecture about the hard stuff.
    Jesus, what was going on?
    His chest felt tight, like he was about to have a heart attack. He had to talk to someone. But who—?
    Sadie!
    Ian stood and almost fell over. Man, he was really in the bag.
    Still, he managed to make his way from the kitchen and into the rec room. The room was empty, the TV staring back blankly. The clock on the VCR read: 10:30 pm. She must've gone upstairs, Ian thought, making his way up the staircase.
    Sadie was in the master bathroom getting ready for bed. She was wearing her leopard-skin shorty nightgown, and that almost made Ian groan when he saw it. Her special signal. No, not tonight, he thought, sitting down on the edge of the king size bed. "Hey, Hon, can we talk?" he asked, speaking in a measured way.
    She leaned out of the bathroom door and gave him her fake smile. "Sure can," she said, winking. "Not exactly what I had in mind, but what's up?"
    "Well, it's about something funny happening to Dana—"
    "You mean this wedding thing," she interrupted impatiently, turning back to the mirror, sitting down on her stool, and starting her face cleansing routine that prevented wrinkles. "What about it?"
    "Well, you know, a Ugandan, a black?" he said, but realizing after he said it, that wasn't the immediate thing bothering him. Jesus! Dana's voice had faded out—
    "For crissake, Ian," she chastised him, "don't be so melodramatic." She shook her head, standing up off the little stool, smoothing out her nightgown provocatively and glancing out where he sat. "Dana's not going to go through that whole process, including the questioning by immigration, for some black kid she hardly knows. It's a passing thing, like most of her big plans." She stared at him with that look: Don't you dare disagree with me.
    He froze for a moment or two, his mind going blank, the alcohol adding to his focusing problem.
    "I'm not so sure," Ian finally said, attention redirected now. "She sounded pretty committed to me."
    "Uh-huh," Sadie nodded, giving him a derisive look. "How about the Peace Corp thing in her freshman year or quitting school and joining Greenpeace last year? She sounded serious then, too, right?"
    Ian thought for a moment, realizing his wife might be right about their daughter…But what about the rest, the fading out business? What about something being physically wrong with him? He stared at her, collecting his thoughts, trying to think of some way to introduce the subject without sounding silly. But his mind was fuzzy, his tongue too thick. So he just nodded. It was easier to just agree with her.
    Sadie shrugged, dismissing the subject, then smiled and licked her full lips. "Hmmm, time for bed, don't you think." She came close to where he sat, leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth, then made a nasty face. "Yuk, how can you drink that terrible stuff?" Despite the continuing frown, she kissed him again, forcing her tongue into his mouth. Then she helped him undress.
    Ian knew it was too late now for any more discussion.
    Naked on the bed, they wrestled for several minutes, Sadie not giving up easily, but working up nothing more than a little sweat. It was no use. Ian couldn't get an erection.
    "Hey, Hon, I'm kinda in the bag, you know," he finally said, the weak