It was the following night that I discovered the Dylar. An amber bottle of lightweight plastic. It was taped to theunderside of the radiator cover in the bathroom. I found it when the radiator began knocking and I removed the coverto study the valve in an earnest and methodical way, trying to disguise to myself the helplessness I felt.

　　I went at once to find Denise. She was in bed watching TV. When I told her what I'd found we went quietly into thebathroom and looked at the bottle together. It was easy to see the word Dylar through the transparent tape. Neither ofus touched a thing, so great was our surprise at finding the medication concealed in this manner. We regarded thelittle tablets with solemn concern. Then we exchanged a look fraught with implication.

　　Without a word we replaced the radiator cover, bottle intact, and went back to Denise's room. The voice at the end ofthe bed said: "Meanwhile here is a quick and attractive lemon garnish suitable for any sea food."Denise sat on the bed, looking past me, past the TV set, past the posters and souvenirs. Her eyes were narrowed, herface set in a thoughtful scowl.

　　"We say nothing to Baba.""All right," I said.

　　"She'll only say she doesn't remember why she put it there.""What is Dylar? That's what I want to know. There are only three or four places she could have gone to get theprescription filled, within a reasonable distance. A pharmacist can tell us what the stuff is for. I'll get in the car firstthing in the morning.""I already did that," she said.

　　"When?""Around Christmas. I went to three drugstores and talked to the Indians behind the counters in the back.""I think they're Pakistanis.""Whatever.""What did they tell you about Dylar?""Never heard of it.""Did you ask them to look it up? They must have lists of the most recent medications. Supplements, updates.""They looked. It's not on any list.""Unlisted," I said.

　　"We'll have to call her doctor.""I'll call him now. I'll call him at home.""Surprise him," she said, with a certain ruthlessness.

　　"If I get him at home, he won't be screened by an answering service, a receptionist, a nurse, the young andgood-humored doctor who shares his suite of offices and whose role in life is to treat the established doctor's rejects.

　　Once you're shunted from the older doctor to the younger doctor, it means that you and your disease are second-rate.""Call him at home," she said. "Wake him up. Trick him into telling us what we want to know."The only phone was in the kitchen. I ambled down the hall, glancing into our bedroom to make sure Babette was stillthere, ironing blouses and listening to a call-in show on the radio, a form of entertainment she'd recently becomeaddicted to. I went down to the kitchen, found the doctor's name in the phone book and dialed his home number.

　　The doctor's name was Hookstratten. It sounded sort of German. I'd met him once—a stooped man with abird-wattled face and deep voice. Denise had said to trick him but the only way to do that was within a context ofhonesty and truthfulness. If I pretended to be a stranger seeking information about Dylar, he would either hang up ortell me to come into the office.

　　He answered on the fourth or fifth ring. I told him who I was and said I was concerned about Babette. Concernedenough to call him at home—an admittedly rash act but one I hoped he'd be able to understand. I said I was fairlysure it was the medication he'd prescribed for her that was causing the problem.

　　"What problem?""Memory lapse.""You would call a doctor at home to talk about memory lapse. If everyone with memory lapse called a doctor athome, what would we have? The ripple effect would be tremendous."I told him the lapses were frequent.

　　"Frequent. I know your wife. This is the wife who came to me one night with a crying child. 'My child is crying.' Shewould come to a medical doctor who is a private corporation and ask him to treat a child for crying. Now I pick upthe phone and it's the husband. You would call a doctor in his home after ten o'clock at night. You would say to him,'Memory lapse.' Why not tell me she has gas? Call me at home for gas?""Frequent and prolonged, doctor. It has to be the medication.""What medication?""Dylar.""Never heard of it.""A small white tablet. Comes in an amber bottle.""You would describe a tablet as small and whit............