"David Eddings - Losers, The" - читать интересную книгу автора (Eddings David)

In time the snow disappeared. It did not, as it all too frequently does, linger in sodden, stubborn, dirty-white patches in yards and on sidewalks, but rather was cut away in a single night by a warm, wet Chinook wind.

There were physical therapists listed in Raphael's phone book, but most of them accepted patients by medical referral only, so he called and made an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon.

It was raw and windy on the day of his appointment, and Raphael turned up the collar of his coat as he waited for the bus. A burly old man strode past, his face grimly determined. He walked very fast, as if he had an important engagement somewhere. Raphael wondered what could be of such significance to a man of that age.

The receptionist at the doctor's office was a motherly sort of lady, and she asked the usual questions, took the name of Raphael's insurance company, and finally raised a point Raphael had not considered. "You're a resident of this state, aren't you, Mr. Taylor?" she asked him. She had beautiful silver-white hair and a down-to-earth sort of face.

"I think so," Raphael replied. "I was born in Port Angeles. I was going to college in Oregon when the accident happened, though."

"I'm sure that doesn't change your residency. Most people who come to see the doctor are on one of the social programs. As a matter of fact I think there are all kinds of programs you're eligible for. I know a few of the people at various agencies. Would you like to have me call around for you?"

"I hadn't even thought about that," he admitted.

"You're a taxpayer, Mr. Taylor. You're entitled."

He laughed. "The state didn't make all that much in taxes from me."

"It did from your parents, though. I'll call around and see what I can find out. I can give you a call later, if you'd like."

"I'd appreciate that. Thank you." He signed the forms she handed him and sat down to wait for the doctor. It was good to get out. He had not realized how circumscribed his life had been for the past several weeks.

The doctor examined him and made the usual encouraging remarks about how well he was coming along. Then he made arrangements to enroll him in a program of physical therapy.

Because he still felt good, and because it was still early when he came out of the doctor's office, Raphael rode buses for the rest of the day, looking at the city. Toward late afternoon, miles from where he had first seen him, he saw the burly old man again. The old man's face still had that grimly determined expression, and his pace had not slowed.

In the days that followed, because the scanner and the books and Crazy Charlie were no longer quite enough, Raphael rode buses. For the most part it was simply to be riding-to be doing something, going somewhere: For that reason rather than out of any sense of real need, he called the helpful receptionist.

"I was meaning to get in touch with you, Mr. Taylor," she said. "The people at social services are very interested in you."

"Oh?"

"You're eligible for all sorts of things, did you know that? Food stamps, vocational guidance-they'll even pay for your schooling to train you in a new trade."

"I was a student," he told her dryly. "Are they going to make a teacher out of me instead?"

"It's possible-if you want to get a degree in education." Her voice took on a slightly confidential note. "Do you want to know the real reason they're so interested in you?" she asked.

"Why's that?"

"Your particular case is complicated enough to provide full-time work for three social workers. I don't really care for those people. Wouldn't it make more sense to just give the money to the people who need it rather than have some girl who's making thousands and thousands of dollars a year dole it out to them in nickels and dimes?"

"A lot more sense, but the girl can't type, so she can't get an honest job."

"I don't quite follow that," she admitted.

"A friend of mine once described a social worker as a girl who can't type."

She laughed. "Would you like to have me give you a few names and phone numbers?"