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Nicole said.
    “I’ve spent most of my life alone,” he replied. “Why change things now? Besides, you’ve seen how often these nurses come banging in here. I couldn’t be alone if I wanted to.”
    “Maybe we don’t want to go,” Nicole said. “You think it’s always about you?”
    My father smiled. Nicole knew how to talk to him. While he ate his dinner, I helped him search the television for a channel with boxing. After he had settled in, Nicole and I said good night. Nicole kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll be back in the morning.”
    “Don’t come too early,” he said. “It’s a waste of your time. And you need your rest. You look more tired than I do.”
    “Don’t be so bossy,” she said. He smiled at her. She squeezed his hand, then left the room.
    My father said to me, “Good night, Son.”
    “Night, Dad. See you in the morning.”
    As I started to walk out he said, “Al.”
    I turned back.
    “I’m glad you’re here.”
    “Me too.”
    Nicole was waiting for me in the hallway. “Want to get some dinner?” I asked.
    “I’m glad you asked,” she said. “I’m starving.”
    “Good,” I said. “I know a place.”

CHAPTER
Seven
    Over dinner Nicole asked about Falene, which spoiled my meal as effectively as if she had poured the entire shaker of salt on it.
    Alan Christoffersen’s diary

DiSera’s is an authentic little Italian restaurant with a wood-fired pizza oven, red checked tablecloths, paper menus, and centerpieces made from candles melted over empty wine bottles. There were black-and-white, framed photographs of pretty Italian girls on vintage Vespa scooters and a series of pictures of a young Sophia Loren.
    The food was cheap and good, and even though my father and I didn’t eat out much, we had eaten here more times than I could remember. I had taken McKale here at least a dozen times on dates.
    After the waitress had left with our order, Nicole asked, “Are you okay?”
    “I’m all right.”
    “It must be hard seeing your father like that.”
    I nodded. “When you’re young you think of your parents as omnipotent—like Oz the Great and Powerful. Seeing him like this is like seeing the little man behind the curtain.”
    “I know what you mean. I think every son or daughter eventually experiences that.”
    “He’s been writing his family history.”
    Nicole nodded. “I know. He told me a few weeks ago.”
    I thought it peculiar that he’d tell her but not me. “I asked him why he was doing it. He said something was just drawing him to it. Mortality.”
    Nicole shook her head. “He has plenty of life left in him.”
    “I hope you’re right.” I took a drink of ice water. “How long are you going to stay?”
    “As long as he needs me.”
    “That could be a while,” I said.
    “I know. I have the time.”
    A few minutes later our waitress brought out our food, and we ate awhile in silence.
    Nicole suddenly asked, “Did you find Falene?”
    I looked up at her. “Just a few days ago.”
    “How is she?”
    “I don’t know. I haven’t talked to her yet. I’ve been too worried about my father.”
    Nicole didn’t say anything, and I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Fortunately, she didn’t say anything more about Falene. After dinner I drove Nicole back to her car in the hospital parking lot.
    “Thank you for dinner,” she said.
    “My pleasure.”
    She looked sad as she lifted her purse. “Where did I put my key?”
    “Why don’t you just stay at the house?” I said again. “It will get expensive staying at a hotel.”
    “You sound like your father.”
    “Is that bad?”
    “No,” she said. “I’ll think about it.”
    From the way she said it I was pretty sure she had already made up her mind not to. She rooted through her purse until she found her car key. “Found it. I’ll see you in the morning.”
    “Good night,” I replied.
    She waved as she drove off to her hotel.
    I suppose it was no mystery why she didn’t want to stay at the