Final Act Dianne Yetman (popular ebook readers txt) 📖

I went off the rails.  I’m confused, mortified, and thoroughly ashamed of myself. Okay?”

Abir reached for her friend’s hand.

“The job is getting to you”, she said, “I work with the criminal element and I know what it’s like.”

“You scream stress, Kate.  Anything else happen this week.”

She told them about her break up with David.

“Glad to hear it”, Abir said.  “The man has a lot of redeeming qualities, no doubt, but he’s too old for you, Kate. Think twelve years ahead.  Can you see the hanging jowls, sagging belly, bald head and liver spots - a bit harsh maybe, but nevertheless true and you, well you would be in your prime.  Good decision.”

Kate looked at her friend and laughed.

“You’re the last person I would take romantic advice from Abir, but you can make me laugh.”

“Listen, Kate, this is serious business. I could speak to one of my colleagues – she is a gifted psychologist – she may be able to fit you in.”

“Thanks.  I’ll think about it.  So Abir, how did the family visit to Boston go?”

“Rain, it rained the whole week.  I oiled my feathers so much Greenpeace is after me.”

“Mind if I join this conversation”, said a voice from on high.

“Please do”, Kate said.  “I’m drowning here.”

Hanya took a seat, waved to Jock for her usual glass of red wine. Over the meal, the three friends talked about food, men, sex, and jobs.  Abir went on for some length about her volunteer work at the homeless shelter.

“Hazel and I manage to have coffee together once at week at the shelter”, Abir said. “You know her, don’t you,  Hanya?”

“Yes, for a few years now.”

“Well she told me the cops came to their abode and read the riot act. Before you say anything, Kate, I’m not fault finding the police; they’re only doing their job.  It’s the politics that sucks.  My ten minute rant is up so I’ll close my mouth – for now.  If anyone wants to hear more, you have my number.”

Hanya sat very still as if making a decision.

“Funny you should bring up Hazel, I was just talking about her with Alexis and Susan.”

They all listened as she told them the story about the two women’s research project and their chance meeting with Hazel.

“I’m not entirely convinced there is a maniacal red headed woman trolling for a killer but the research project is ended.”

Kate couldn’t believe what she was hearing.  A woman canvassing the homeless to find someone to do a hit on a black man.  She waited until Sandra finished speaking about the lack of mental health care funding before taking her leave.

“I’m sorry but I can’t stay for dessert, I have a bitch of a headache.  Enjoy”, she said rising from the table.

Kate hopped in the car and fifteen minutes later walked through the doors of the hospital.

***

At that moment, further downtown, Roger opened his eyes and looked around the hospital room.  He must be healing. The nurses aren’t bringing the trays filled with all those pink, blue, red, white and puking green coloured pills.  Only those tiny white ones now; only pass out for a little while now.

He lifted his head, did it every chance he got just because he could now that the head brace is gone.  No visitors. Hungry.  He thought about the last time he ate.  Jello, red jello. The last time I ate that I was ten years old.  And custard, a yellow lump in a dish the size of a teaspoon.  And the tea, too bad Aunt Jane hadn’t been here to tell them what she thought of their tea in a plastic, paper lined cup.  No Java yet?  Why?  His mouth watered at the thought of those barbecued steaks he and Randy demolished over the summer.

Where’s Kate?  She was in here not too long ago.  I asked her something, what was it?  It had something to do with the bathroom. Yes, that was it.  I asked her to help me to the bathroom.  Brave woman but not too bright sometimes.

He could hear the sound of the crash as the pole holding the bag of liquid meds tipped over.  Remember feeling himself go, bracing himself for impact on the floor then feeling the softness of Kate’s body.

He could feel a wave of sleepiness wash over him.  He looked at the bathroom door to the right of the bed, it was slightly ajar, an open invitation.  He sat up slowly and swung his legs over the side of the bed.  He was gazing at the pole with the bag when he felt rather than heard someone enter the room.  He looked over to see the Doctor and Nurse whoever  - he couldn’t keep their names straight.

“Trying your luck again Roger.  Not to worry you’ll be disconnected from that pole very soon.  I come bearing good news.  You’re healing faster than we thought; the swelling in the brain has subsided and there’s no damage to the frontal lobes.  Doesn’t get much better than that, does it?”

“Sure doesn’t.  So, when do I get out of here?”

“Slow down.  We need to check out the left eye, the blood thinners are doing its job.  The clot is shrinking.  Takes time though. We need to take the bandages off and test your vision.  You’re scheduled for testing tomorrow morning.  Everything goes well; I’ll sign the release papers tomorrow morning.”

“Am I going to regain my sight in the left eye?”

“Can’t say.  It’s a wait and see thing.”

He looked at Roger’s expression and apologized:  “Sorry, no pun intended.  Broken ribs have knitted, bruises and contusions are fading.  It’s all good.”

“Yes but I still can’t seem to remember anything for any stretch of time.”

“That’s natural, at the rate you’re healing, your memory will be back where it should be in no time.”

“Really?  Put that in writing, will you, so I can read it to interested persons.”

Chapter 12

Catherine Stone sat at the stainless steel