Chapter Six
While my soup warmed up on the stove, I made my way to the front door to get the mail, hoping that having something constructive to do would stop my pity pout. I started opening envelopes and sorting them into piles: bills, junk mail, etc.
My heart skipped a beat when I opened a letter from Gary's kidney specialist. I figured it was a reminder letter of his upcoming appointment, one he had waited several weeks for to determine if the sharp pains he has been feeling in his back from time to time are kidney-related. But when I unfolded the sheet, I saw a bill for services rendered. It was dated for Tuesday – three days ago. This can't be right!
My heart and mind were racing as I dialled Gary's private line.
“Shardonay, how are you, baby?” His nicknames were usually endearing,
