Posted by DaisyM on August 26, 2004, at 20:16:33
I'm writing a story and the very rough beginnings are below. What do you think? I haven't decided if the car accident is a suicide yet. But it definately is in her journal as one of the possible ways she would do it. So here goes:
Hank walked slowly back from the mail box, absently sorting through the colored envelopes. He was still amazed, shocked really, at how it hurt to see her name next to his. Just another sign that the world goes on, the sun comes up and people get on with their lives.
He sighed as he walked in the kitchen and tossed the pile on the table. He started to walk away, when he noticed the blue envelope with neat handwriting across it. It was addressed to Stephanie alone and he didn't recognize the return address. He turned it over in his hand a couple of times, hesitating. He finally ripped open the end and drew out a single sheet. He didn't understand at first, the words made sense but held no meaning.
Stephanie,
I've left several messages but you haven't returned my calls. Now your phone seems to be turned off. I'm concerned about you. If you are quitting therapy, I'd like the opportunity to hear why. Please call me. I'm still holding your regular Monday night spot open.
Sam
Hank turned the letter over but there wasn't anything on the back. He looked again at the front, reread the short note and slowly sat down.Monday nights...Stephanie always worked late on Monday nights. Therapy? Stephanie, in therapy? Hank tried to make sense of these words. He vaguely remembered her telling him a year ago that she was talking with someone about work issues. But he thought she'd resolved those months ago. He turned the note over again and again, like it would somehow reveal more answers. Finally, he noticed the phone number at the bottom of the letterhead. He picked up the phone and started to dial and then abruptly hung up. What would he say? Sam, whoever Sam was, obviously didn't know about Stephanie's death. Hank wondered, how do you just blurt out "she's dead." He tried it out several ways in his head and finally dialed again. It rang once, twice and Hank heard an answering machine click on.
"Hi, you've reached Sam Peterson, Psychotherapist. Please leave your name, phone number and message of any length and I'll return your call as soon as possible. If this is an emergency please hang up and dial 9-1-1."
Hank hesitated, and then said quickly, "uh, hi. This is Hank Sherman, Stephanie Sherman's husband. I got your note today in the mail and I'd like to talk to you. Please call me at home..." Hank left his number and hung up. He wandered around the kitchen a while and then went and sat on the back porch with his book. But he couldn't concentrate, couldn't get the note out of his mind. What did it mean...was Stephanie seeing a shrink all that time? How come she never talked about it? What was she working on?
"Well, it obviously didn't help much" Hank said out loud to nobody there. And sat for a long time with his own thoughts. The phone rang next to him, startling him. He had forgotten that he had brought it out to the porch with him.
"Hello?" he answered.
"Hi, this is Sam Peterson. Is this Hank?"
"Yes, it is. Thank you for returning my call." Hank paused and an awkward silence grew. "Well, I, um, I got your note in the mail today. I mean, Stephanie got your note. I mean...well...I don't know how to tell you this, but, um, Stephanie...she...she died 3 weeks ago." Hank heard a gasp through the phone.
"HOW?! WHAT? I don't understand" Sam's voice sounded brittle and breathless.
"It was a car accident. She crossed into oncoming traffic. Nobody is sure what happened."
"I didn't know. No one told me." Sam's voice sounded far away, almost as if he was speaking to himself. "That explains...well, Hank. I"m so sorry for your loss."
"Thank you. It is quite a shock I know. I'm sorry to have had to tell you like this." Hank heard his voice crack and cursed himself silently for not being stronger. He forced himself to continue, "The thing is, I mean, well, I didn't know Stephanie was seeing you." He stopped and waited a beat and added, "Or why."
"Oh, well. I can't really discuss her case with you...I mean, I know she's gone but..." Sam stumbled a little. What were the guidelines here? He'd have to check. He could hear the pain in the man's voice and the confusion. He felt the same things himself.
"Listen," Sam started. "I'll check with the legal guys and find out what I'm allowed to do here. I'll tell you what I can. Would it be possible for you to come to my office next week? Like, Tuesday?"
"I can't do Tuesday. I have to take one of the kids to some sports meeting. But if you still have that Monday evening, that works for me," Hank replied.
Monday evenings. Stephanie's time. Sam thought about it for a few seconds. Maybe it was appropriate that they meet then. But he needed more time than that... "OK, I can do it next Monday, not this one coming up. Seven, is that OK?"
"Fine. I have your address. I'll be there at seven. Should I just knock on your office door? Or is there something..." Hank trailed off awkwardly. He knew what he'd seen in the movies but who the hell knew if that were real or not.
"There is a waiting room right outside my office. I'll come out and meet you there. You'll see my name on the door."
"OK. Thanks. I'll see you then. Sorry again about dropping this on you." Hank sighed deeply. He was tired of telling people.
"No, I'm glad you called. And I know how hard it must be for you...and the kids. I'm just really shocked and sad. I didn't expect this. Not at all." Sam stopped himself, felt the edgy prick of tears. He swallowed hard and finished with a rough, "see you Monday" and hung up the phone. It was a lot to take in. Stephanie, dead? And now he was going to meet with her husband? What would he tell him? What could he tell him? Sam wondered if Hank knew about her journal, if he would find it and read it. Would it give him answers? Or more questions?
Sam sighed and wiped his eyes. He had to get ready for his next client. He put in a quick call to his lawyer, asking for a consultation and then tried to meditate for a few minutes to clear his head. It was going to be a long evening.
poster:DaisyM
thread:382684
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/write/20040729/msgs/382684.html