The Cabin - Jasinda Wilder Page 0,48
handful of these, a few long slugs from the Goose. Bye-bye, cruel world.
Again, I didn’t. I took one Tylenol, put away the vodka, and binged on a season of Dexter until my next shift.
Two days ago, driving home from work. I’d spaced out and found myself drifting into oncoming traffic lanes. Fortunately, for me, it was three in the morning and the road was empty except for me. But I’d thought, it would be so easy. Find a semi, swerve in front of it.
But then I realized I’d be dragging that poor innocent driver along with me, and having cared for head-on collision victims, I couldn’t do that to anyone.
The thoughts occurred, is the point. Tess’s worry is not unfounded.
I hear the front door, Tess’s heels clicking rapidly. She smells like Chanel perfume, and looks like she just came from the boardroom of a multimillion-dollar company.
“Where were you?” I asked, by way of greeting.
“An interview. I accepted a position as the head of an IT department downtown. I’ve been working from home for so long, I was getting bored with it. I’m alone at home like all the time. So I figured, fuck it. Take a nine-to-five. It’s so close to my condo that I can walk to work, and it’s a stone’s throw to my favorite bar and a nice steakhouse. I’m going to love it.”
“Congratulations,” I say, summoning a genuine smile of happiness for my friend. “I’m proud of you for taking your life back. You’re reinventing yourself.”
She sighs, smiles, nods. “I really am, aren’t I? Honestly, Clint divorcing me is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m a new woman.” She grins lasciviously. “I’m getting so much good dick, Nads, you don’t even know.”
I snort. “I don’t need or want to know, Tess-icles. But good for you. I’m glad you’re happy. I mean that, hon. I really, really am.”
“I know,” she says, setting her purse on the island next to mine.
She shucks her power suit jacket, wearing the matching maroon pencil skirt and white silk blouse, unbuttoned to reveal a provocative but not totally immodest amount of cleavage. Kicks off her nude pumps—Louboutin, judging by the signature red bottoms.
She then comes to sit beside me, sees the envelopes. “What are those?”
“Letters. From Adrian.”
She blinks. “Um…come again?”
“Tomas Anton came to visit just now. He delivered these. They’re from Adrian. He gave Tomas instructions to deliver them today.”
“Today?”
I nod. “He died one year ago today. At three thirty-three.” I glance at the clock—it’s 9:15. “Five hours and forty-two minutes ago.”
“Today is the one year anniversary.” She glances at the ceiling. Blinks. “I should have been here sooner, Nadia. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You have your life to live.”
She shakes her head. “It’s a major milestone.”
I heave a shaky sigh. “I haven’t read it yet. I don’t want to. I’m scared.”
“I can only imagine.” She touches my forearm. “Want me to read it to you?”
I shake my head. “I just…I need you here with me when I do.” I sniffle. “I’m…I’m not fine, Tess. I say I am, but I’m not.”
“I know. No one expects to you to be.”
“I almost dosed a patient with too much medication yesterday. Not a lot. The patient likely wouldn’t have even noticed. But my coworker did, and told Dr. Wilson.”
“Nadia, god.”
“I know.” I swallow hard. “I think…I think I have to resign. I’m clearly losing my competency.”
She side-hugs me. “Nadia, the problem is you’re not taking care of yourself. You’re so skinny now I could put you in my purse. You look like you’re not sleeping.”
I lift my scrub top to show her my torso. She inhales sharply. “Yeah, that might be part of the issue.”
“Nadia…” she breathes. “You’re a skeleton.”
“I know,” I whisper.
“When was the last time you ate anything?”
“I…” I try to think. “I don’t know. Before work yesterday, I think? I had half a bagel.”
“Jesus, Nads. You’re the nurse here, not me, but I almost think you might need hospitalization.”
“Possibly.”
“This is officially an intervention,” she says. “From now on, I’m not leaving you alone until I know you’re healthy enough to be left alone.”
I want to deny the need. But I can’t. “Okay,” I whisper. “I think that might be a good idea.”
She flicks a finger at the envelopes on the coffee table. “So…what’s the deal with the key?”
The notecard with the key sits on top of the envelope.
“I don’t know yet. I haven’t read the letter, which I’m guessing explains it. There’s an address, but I don’t recognize it.”
Tess