The Mourning Mail (final release candidate #7)

Chapter 37

It was almost ten by the time I got back to my room. I left a message with Dr. Merriman's answering service that I'd been in a severe accident and needed to see her as soon as possible in the morning.

The designer likely meant the geometric patterns of the dark multi-colored comforter to suggest a Native American influence. They badly missed the mark. Nevertheless, the bed was calling out to me. I laid down, intending to take a brief nap before I took a shower and changed into bedclothes.

The sound of the maid vacuuming the hall carpet awoke me at 9:30 the following morning.

But even with the extra sleep, when I opened my eyes, I could barely raise my head—every bone and muscle in my body seemed sore, and every movement painful.

Slowly, I rolled out of bed and stumbled into the shower. Though not a cure-all, the warm water undoubtedly helped. I stayed under those soothing sprinkles for as long as possible without becoming a head-to-toe raisin.

The doctor's office called back and offered me an appointment at 1:00 p.m. I filled the time between working on a project from Doug Stein's list. But I found it frustrating. I had to push the words to the page because they weren't flowing naturally. Still, I had imposed a deadline on myself to keep me from falling into bad habits and to ensure the work got done.

I welcomed the buzzing of my cellphone alarm, notifying me it was time to call Cathy for the drive to Dr. Merriman's office.

Cathy turned on the car radio at my request. We were about halfway to Dr. Merriman's when the newscaster announced the death of the Uber driver involved in the hit-and-run yesterday. The anchor's description matched what I knew of Antara—a married father of four children driving for Uber as his second job.

"Oh, no..." I groaned, my shoulders sagging as I clasped my hands to my face, and the tears began welling up. It took a moment for the news to hit home fully. "That poor man. Antara was so friendly. They killed him just because I was in his car; there was no reason. "

Tears were running down my cheeks, and all I could do was sob, unable to find suitable words.

Cathy reached out and put her hand on my shoulder. "I am so sorry," she said softly and slowly. "It's horrifically sad, a terrible waste of a good man's being. Nothing anyone can say is ever going to be enough. But he has loved ones to mourn him and appreciate his life and what he was trying to do for them."

"My God, his family; he has a lovely family," I said, falling apart as everything suddenly seemed to come down on me at once. "He didn't do anything to hurt anyone. Jesus, Cathy, what have I done?!?"

"I know it feels like it's on you," Cathy replied, her tone comforting, "but it wasn't your fault. Other people did this to him. The best thing you can do, maybe the only thing, is to finish what you started and bring this man and his family justice. That's what we do, Debra Ann. We speak for people. You can speak for him. It's something both you and his family need."

The tears slowly subsided, and the emotional pain eased a bit—I was grateful to have heard the bad news with Cathy in the car. We rode the rest of the way in silence. Once we arrived at the medical complex, she exited her Prius as I did. She came to my side of the car, and we hugged for a while before saying our goodbyes. Then I headed to the ground floor restroom to fix my makeup and rode the elevator to Dr. Merriman's office.

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"Debra Ann, it's nice to see you again," Dr. Merriman said, "but I understand you were in quite an accident. So sorry to hear it."

"Yes, Doctor, but it could have been much worse," I replied. "I heard on the car radio coming here that the driver of the Uber I was in didn't make it. The people who did this may have been after me - I feel so horrible about putting him in that position. I'm sure this is because of a story I'm writing," I said as I felt the tears coming again.