Always Watching

me again. I wasn’t the only one replaying events.
    Michelle said, “I keep seeing her face—her body just lying there. I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes I see … that.” She made a motion with her hand over her face, our minds filling in the blanks: the chemical burns around Heather’s mouth from when she vomited, lips pulled back in a grimace, her skin mottled, and the ends of rags still visible in her throat. We were all quiet for a minute, and I had to close my eyes, blinking hard. When I opened them, Kevin was watching me, his face full of sympathy.
    *   *   *
    I went home for lunch, and when I came back, I was just getting out of my car in the staff parking lot when Daniel suddenly materialized by the hood. Heather’s bag was over his arm, a box in his arms, and their wedding photo, which she’d kept by her bed, clutched in his hand. Had he been waiting for me?
    “Daniel. Are you okay?”
    His eyes were red-rimmed, his hair a mess, and his face unshaven. It was clear he hadn’t slept in days. When he met my eyes, I almost stumbled backward from the grief burning in his gaze.
    “No, I’m not okay, Dr. Lavoie. But you don’t really care about that, do you? Your job is done, so what do you care about my life now.”
    There was something in his voice that scared me, a ready-to-snap, dangerous edge. Adrenaline rushed through my body, making my stomach pull up hard under my ribs. I gripped the key fob in my hand, finger over the panic button.
    “Of course I care, Daniel. I know this must be a very painful—”
    He took a step closer. “You don’t know anything. Not about me, or my wife. She was just another patient to you, but she was everything to me.” His voice cracked, and he stopped, then shook his head and pulled his chest up high. “You people let her die. I’m going to sue every damn person in this hospital.”
    I was pinned between my car and the one beside me, blocked from behind by a cement wall. I hoped a security guard would notice, or someone parking their car, but when I looked around, the lot was empty.
    I kept my voice low and soothing. “Would you like to go inside and talk about this?”
    “What’s left to talk about?” His face was angry, his breathing rapid. “She’s dead, and nothing’s going to bring her back.”
    I wanted to help him, wanted to explain about depression and chronically suicidal people, about the damaging effect a center like River of Life could have on someone already struggling with a mood disorder, but I was thrown by the situation and the despair in his face, by my own feelings of remorse and sorrow. According to the hospital lawyer, I shouldn’t even be having this conversation.
    Daniel was smart enough to realize that and said, “It’ll be lies anyway. You’re not going to tell me what really happened—no one at this hospital will.”
    “Daniel, I truly am sorry, but—”
    “I don’t want to hear any more apologies. I trusted you.” The words hit hard, and fear followed when he took another step forward. “I thought she was getting better.” His voice had started to rise. I was scared, but I was also hoping he’d attract attention. “What happened? I don’t understand what happened.” His hands on the box were shaking now, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.
    A strong male voice rang out, “Hey, you all right?”
    Then Kevin was walking briskly toward us. I sagged with relief against the side of my car. Daniel backed up, slowly, wiping at his eyes. When Kevin reached Daniel’s side, he said, “Can I help you?”
    “I’m done with all of you.”
    “Then I think you’d better go home now.”
    Daniel turned and took a step toward me. I held my breath, and Kevin’s body also tensed. But Daniel just held out a photo.
    “I want you to have this.” He thrust it toward me again. I took the photo. He nodded once, then turned and walked toward the main parking lot.
    Kevin and I were quiet for a moment, watching him, then Kevin looked at me. “You okay?”
    I nodded. “I’m fine.”
    He met my eyes and raised his eyebrow. He knew perfectly well I was upset. I gave a sheepish smile.
    He said, “Do you have time for a coffee?”
    I hesitated. I’d wanted to get started on some paperwork. But I was shook up. It might be nice to talk to someone who understood what I was going through.
    “Sure, that would be great.”
    *   *   *
    We sat in the cafeteria for a while, and I shared my guilt over