“How long did you know each other?”

She thought. “’Bout two years. I was driving this catering truck- ya know, the roach wagon. Used to drive by all these ya know construction sites and Danny was working at one, framing.”

I nodded encouragement.

“He liked burritos,” she said. “Ya know meat and potato but no beans- beans made him toot which made him ya know mean. I thought he was kinda cute so I gave him freebies; the boss never knew. Then we started ya know living together.”

She gazed at me, childlike.

I smiled.

“I never, ever thought he’d really ya know do it.”

“Kill himself?”

She bobbed her head. Tears ran down her pimpled cheeks.

“Had he talked about suicide, before?”

“When he drank and got all p.o.’d, ya know, he’d go on about how ya know life sucked, it was better to be dead, ya know, he was gonna do it some day, tell everyone the f-word off. Then when he hurt his back- ya know the pain, out of work- he was real low. But I never thought…” She broke down again.

“There was no way to know, Carmen. When a person makes up his mind to kill himself, there’s no way to stop him.”

“Yeah,” she said, between gulps of air. “Ya couldn’t stop Danny when he made his mind up, that’s fer sure. He was a real hardbutt, real ya know stubborn. I tried to stop him this morning but he just kept going, like he wasn’t ya know hearing me, just all juiced and ya know shootin’ ahead like a bat out of… hell.”

“Dr. Weingarden said he talked about some bad things he’d done.”

She nodded. “He was pretty broke up. Said he was a ya know grievous sinner.”

“Do you know what he was broken up about?”

Shrug. “He used to ya know get in fights, beat people up in bars- nothing really heavy, but he did hurt some people.” She smiled. “He was little but ya know real tough. Scrappy. And he liked to smoke weed and drink, which made him real scrappy- but he was a good dude, ya know. He didn’t do nothing real bad.”

Wanting to know her support system, I asked her about family and friends.

“I don’t got no family,” she said. “Neither did Danny. And we didn’t have no ya know friends. I mean I didn’t mind but Danny didn’t like people- maybe ’cause his papa beat him up all the time and it turned him ya know angry at the world. That’s why he…”

“He what?”

“Offed him.”

“He killed his father?”

“When he was a kid- self-defense! But the cops did a number on him- they sent him to ya know CYA till he was eighteen. He got out and did his own thing but he didn’t like no friends. All he liked was me and the dogs- we got two Rottweiler mixes, Dandy and Paco. They liked him a lot. They been crying all day, going to miss him something bad.”

She cried for a long time.

“Carmen,” I said, “you’re going through hard times. It will help to have someone to talk to. I’d like to hook you up with a doctor, a psychologist like me.”

She looked up. “I could talk to you.”

“I’m… I don’t usually do this kind of work.”

She pursed her lips. “It’s the bread, right. You don’t take no Medi-Cal, right?”

“No, Carmen. I’m a child psychologist. I work with children.”

“Right, I understand,” she said with more sadness than anger. As if this were the latest injustice in a life full of them.

“The person I want to refer you to is very nice, very experienced.”

She pouted, rubbed her eyes.

“Carmen, if I talk to her about you and get you her number, will you call?”

“A her?” She shook her head violently. “No way. I don’t want no lady doctor.”

“Why’s that?”

“Danny had a lady doctor. She messed with him.”

“Messed with him?”

She spit on the floor. “Ya know ballin’ him. He always said, bullshit, Carmen, we never done it. But he’d come back from ya know seein’ her and have that ya know look in his eyes and he’d smell all of lovin’- disgustin’. I don’t want to talk about it. Don’t want no lady doctor in any case.”

“Dr. Weingarden’s a lady.”

“That’s different.”

“Dr. Small, the person I want to send you to, is different too, Carmen. She’s in her fifties, very kind, would never do anything dishonest.”

She looked unconvinced.

“Carmen, I’ve seen her myself.”

She didn’t understand.

“Carmen, she was my doctor.”

“You? What for?”

“Sometimes I need to talk too. Everyone does. Now promise me to go see her once. If you don’t like her, I’ll get you someone else.” I pulled out a card with my exchange number on it and gave it to her.

She closed one hand over it.

“I just don’t think it’s right,” she said.

“What isn’t?”

“Her balling him. A doctor should, ya know, know better.”

“You’re absolutely right.”

That surprised her, as if it were the first time anyone had ever agreed with her.

“Some doctors shouldn’t be doctors,” I said.

“I mean,” she said, “I could sue or something.”

“No one to sue, Carmen. If you’re talking about Dr. Ransom, she’s dead. She killed herself too.”

Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, my God, I didn’t… I mean, I ya know wished it to happen, but I didn’t… Now it’s… oh, my God.”

She crossed herself, squeezed her temples, stared at the ceiling.

“Carmen, none of this is your fault. You’re a victim.”

She shook her head.

“A victim. I want you to understand that.”

“I- I don’t understand nothing.” Tears. “This is all too ya know… too… I don’t understand it.”

I leaned forward, smelled her anguish. “Carmen, I’ll stay here with you as long as you need me to. All right? All right, Carmen?”

Nod.

A half hour passed before she’d composed herself, and when she dried her eyes she seemed to have regained some dignity as well.

“You’re very nice,” she said. “I’m okay. You can go now.”

“What about Dr. Small- the therapist I want you to see?”

“I dunno.”

“Just one time.”

Wan smile. “Okay.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

I took her hand, held it for a moment, then went to the front desk and told Bea to watch her. I used a phone in an empty examining room to call Ada. The operator at her service told me she was about to go into session.

“It’s an emergency,” I said, and was patched through.

“Alex,” said Ada. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve got a young woman in crisis that I’d like you to see as soon as possible. It’s not a choice referral, Ada- she’s on Medi-Cal and is anything but insightful. But when I tell you the details I think you’ll agree it’s important that she be seen.”

“Tell me.”

When I was through, she said, “How terrible. You were right to call, Alex. I can stay and see her at seven. Can she get here by then?”

“I’ll see that she does. Thanks so much, Ada.”

“My pleasure, Alex. I’ve got a patient waiting, so I can’t linger.”

“I understand. Thanks again.”

“No problem. I’ll call you after I’ve seen her.”

I went back to the private office and gave the number to Carmen.

“It’s all arranged,” I said. “Dr. Small will see you at seven tonight.”

“Okay.”

I squeezed her hand and left, caught Leslie between examining rooms, and told her what I’d arranged.

“How’s she look to you?” she asked.

“Pretty fragile and she’s still cushioned by shock. The next few days could get really bad. She doesn’t have any support system. It’s really important for her to be seeing someone.”

“Makes sense. Where’s this therapist’s office?”

“Brentwood. San Vicente near Barrington.” I gave her the address and the time of the appointment.

“Perfect. I live in Santa Monica. I’ll be leaving the office around six-thirty. I’ll take her there myself. Until then, we’ll babysit her.” A moment’s hesitation. “This person you’re referring to is good?”

“The best. I’ve seen her myself.”

That bit of self-disclosure had reassured Carmen but it irritated her doctor.

“California honesty,” she said. Then: “Jesus, I’m sorry. You’ve really been nice, coming here on no notice- it’s just that I’ve become a total cynic. I know it’s not healthy. I’ve got to get myself to where I can trust people again.”