'I don't remember why he was driving me that day.'

'I was probably having bladder issues.'

'This was before your incontinence, I remember that much.'

'Are you sure? Maybe I had been pissing myself and you hadn't noticed
yet. It might not have soaked through.'

'I've seen it soak through a foot and a half of denim.  Believe me,
I'm sure.  But no, I don't remember why. I'm sure there was a
reason... I do remember the conversation we had before leaving
though:

'"You have got to stop doing this," I said, "Sooner or later they're
going to figure it out.

'"I don't think they suspect anything," you said, handing me the book,
"Its just my little protest against their control.  I've already given
up the battle, just let me have a little compensation.  You have to
calm down.  What is so suspicious about a daughter bringing her father
a book?"

'"Isn't that all it is?" I asked.  You just smiled.

'So he was driving me and not listening to my directions.  He acted
like he knew where he was going even though he got frustrated when I
corrected him after the fact.  We came to that little circle where if
you veer left and take your first left it leads to the road to the
center. You know what I mean?'

'What's the name of it?'

'I don't know.  You'd know it if you saw it.'

'Let me look it up on the map.'

'No, then I'll lose what I'm talking about and its very important that
I get to the end.'

'Just keep talking, I need to know where you're talking about.'

'Dad, you're not even looking in the right state.  Even you looking is
going to distract me and then I'll lose it. Just sit down.  The
green circle with pampas grass. North Road ends at it, twice.  It
doesn't matter.'

'What is so important that you want to tell me?'

'You know that's not the way it works.  Its buried in there and if I
keep digging hopefully I can get to it....I just hope I don't miss
because I have that feeling again. So instead of turning on to Center
Way, he grumbles something about this being a pain in the ass and
turns right instead of left.  He circles all around, almost, and
though I sign and shout for the right street he turns on to North Rd.
"You don't know where you're going," I said.

'"The research center," he said, pulling over, "This is it."

'I don't know if he understood how big the complex was.  It was part
of the Hollington's center but maybe a mile away from your building.'

'Which building?'

'Again, not important, but Q.'

'Which one is that?'

'If you don't remember it doesn't matter.  Its the one high up in the
mountains nearest the town. You can look it up later.'

'You know I won't remember later.'

'I wasn't going to try to get him to find the right building -- it was
already hard enough getting him here.  I was worried he might get
frustrated and just take me back to town.  So I got out of the car
with my dog without saying goodbye.  I was walking the dog towards
some steps leading down when I encountered a woman, about my age.

'"Nice BYT!" she said.

'"BYT?" I asked.

'"Brigham Young Terrier," she said, matter of factly, "A lot of us
have them."

'"Us?" I asked.

'"Daughters of Hollington's patients," she said. I wanted to get down
to you as soon as possible but she clearly wanted to have this
conversation. "I haven't seen you at any of the support groups," she
said.

'"Yeah," I said, "I don't like them."

'"Yeah," she said, "A lot of the girls can be pretty catty.  Still,
you need some support to deal with all of this.  Being alone is hard
enough even without the disease."

'"How do you know that I'm alone?" I said.

'"Most Hollington's daughters are," she said, "Come on, let me take
you to a cafe.  You can bring your BYT."

'So we went to a cafe.  Even though it was high in those beautiful
mountains on a nice, foggy day and we were right next to the window,
there's something so clinical about the center that it didn't seem
very scenic. I can't remember what we started talking about.  We
started having one of those line conversations while waiting for our
coffee that didn't really mean anything and then I lost my place and
didn't realize it until we got back to the table and she asked, "Who
is your father again?"

'"I told you already?" I asked.

'"I think so," she said, "I didn't hear you."

'"I wouldn't have think they would let a dog in a cafe," I said, looking down
at my companion.

'"You get a lot of liberties around here," she said, "They see a
BYT and know the story."'

'That's what kind of dog he is?'

'I don't know!  I always just thought he was a mutt.'

'We should look it up.'

'I tried!  All you get is a bunch of Hollington's pages.'

'You told her who I was?'

'I guess so.  She said she thought she knew you and said your name a
few times.  "He's a great writer," she said.'

'Used to be.'

'She said that too.  "I tried to read his last book," she said, "The
one that he wrote after Hollington's."  Maybe she just recognized me
from the book.'

'I had forgotten that was published.  I wish it wasn't.'

'"I'd like to get a writing sample from you," she said.

'"From me?" I asked.

'"To compare with-" ... I can't remember, something about wanting a
writing sample from someone without the disease in the family to see
how it compares.'

'Did you give it to her?'

'I think so.  Then I walked over here. But that's what I needed to
tell you.  The book!  I don't have the book anymore?'

'Are you sure?  Give me your purse.'

'Dad, don't just take it.  It's not in there.'

'How do you find anything in here?  This is going to take days.  Lock
the door.  Lock the door.'

'Its not in there.  You're too close to this.'

'Where is it?'

'...'

'Where is it?'

'I don't know.  She must have...'

'Oh god.  Oh god.  She tricked you.  She invited you to coffee and
knew you were going to get confused and searched your purse.  She's
probably not even a relative of a patient.  She's probably a nurse or psychologist
or some sort of agent.  There probably isn't even such a thing as a
Brigham Young Terrier.'

'I thought you said not to worry about it.'

'I need what's in that book!'

'Why? What's in there?'

'I need it, Melissa.'

'That's not my name.  Dad....its your disease...'

'My what?'

'Your Hollington's.'

'What was in the book?'

'You don't remember?'

'You put it in there....you told me I needed it.'

'Dad, no.'

'You don't remember this, do you?'

'I--'

'You're showing signs.  That's why they wanted you.'

'Me? Signs? What are you talking about?'

'But you do know, don't you?  Look at my face.  Describe my face.'

'There are rules, you know.  You can't take my lines unless you're
talking about trading places.  You can't just steal my thoughts.'

'Is that what you want to do?'

'What?'

'Trade places.'

'And she asked me if I lived in town.'

'Is there anyone here that doesn't live in the town?'

'I know, right?'

'I've been wondering that.  Why all the Hollington's, here? The
complex is huge. What do they really do up here?'

'They'll hear you.  I can already hear them thinking. I have that
feeling again.'

'That the floor will drop out beneath you and you'll wake up somewhere
awful.'

'Are you me now?  Is that's what happening?'

'I don't see why not.  They only talk to you anyway.'

'You mean you.  They don't even see me.'

'God who am I now?'

'Did you lock the door?'

'What?  Me or me...you?'

'Do you remember locking the door?  You, whoever is talking now.'

'No.'

'We're locked in.  I can't find the call button.  It doesn't exist anymore.'

'They did this on purpose.  They wanted to see if they could see our
thoughts leak.'

'And they did!  I knew I shouldn't have come today.  What was in the
book anyway?  What was I giving you?'

'You were already here.  I'm going to go now, and you're going to wake
up someplace strange where that feeling you keep talking about won't
ever go away. If you're smart, you won't tell them about me, but I'm
afraid you already have.'