The Easy Way Out

20

Blake squinted against the afternoon sun as he followed the curved driveway to the hospital entrance and steered the car to the curb.

"Should I get flowers?" Rachel asked. "Balloons?"

"What's he gonna do with balloons? Maybe they have skin mags in the gift shop." Blake grinned.

On her way out of the car, she shook her head. "Forget my question and I'll try to forget your answer."

He cracked up as he drove into the visitors' parking lot, wheeled the car into a lined space, and killed the engine. He got out and trotted across the parking lot when his phone rang. Recognizing the number, he braced himself.

"Hey, Dad," he said.

"Tomorrow's the eighteenth." The sound of his father's voice sent his blood pressure higher. "Ring any bells?"

"Mom's birthday."

"Think you could take a few minutes out of your busy schedule to send some flowers? Maybe a birthday card, if it's not too much trouble?"

"Yeah. Got it." Blake ended the call, triggered by his dad's familiar morally superior attitude. He jogged to the hospital entrance, choking it all down.

Inside the lobby, while pushing thoughts of his father out of his head, he started for the Information Desk. He altered his course when he noticed Rachel slumped forward on a chair in the waiting area, head in her hands. He approached then gently touched her back.

She glanced up through mascara-streaked eyes. "Damon's gone," she said.

"Where did they take him?"

"They said he went into cardiac arrest this morning... They couldn't save him."

He looked down at her, shock and confusion wringing the color from his face.

She buried her head in his chest and wailed. "Get me out of here! I wanna go home."

########

Sitting on the couch with his computer in his lap, Blake checked the time. He listened. Rachel wasn't in the shower. He walked down the hall and poked his head into the dark bedroom. She lay on her side in bed, her bloodshot eyes fixed on the wall.

"Babe? You goin' to work?"

"Can't."

He approached and sat on the bed, stroking her shoulder. "Come on, Babe. You gotta get ready for work." He swept the hair from her face. "Thought we were supposed to stick to our usual routines."

"We need to get rid of it," she said.

"What?"

"We can't keep that money."

"What're you talking about?"

"I told you." She cleared the rasp from her voice. "Feels like everything's falling apart."

"It's not."

"How can you say that?"

"How would we even give it back? Just hand it over to them and say sorry? It was an accident?"

"I don't know."

He couldn't find the words to offer comfort. She knew what he knew, he had nothing insightful to add. There was no going back. They were in it now, stuck in the middle of it, for better or for worse.

He leaned close to her ear. "If we get rid of the money this will all be for nothing."

Into her knuckles, she whispered, "I'm scared."