Trudy’s hand was shaking so that the receiver of the telephone vibrated against her right ear. She had dragged the phone as far into the bedroom as the cord would allow. She sat on the carpet between the twin beds and spoke quietly with her hand cupped around the mouthpiece.
“And what is it concerning, Trudy?” Dr. Cameron’s nurse waited for a response. This nurse was named Janet McElroy. She used to babysit Trudy and Tammy when they were kids. She still lived right across the street. Small towns. Unbearable.
“It’s private.”
“You know we keep things confidential here, Trudy. I need to tell him something. That’s just how it works.” Trudy didn’t believe it for a minute. She had heard enough stories to know how it worked. So-and-so had cancer. And Mrs. So-and-so had warts on her behind. Baby So-and-so got dropped on his head. She knew who she was talking to: Radio Free Preston Mills.
“It’s about my period. It never stops.” This was in the right neighbourhood. But the opposite of the truth. She wrote her appointment time on the inside of her wrist with a blue ballpoint pen. Just numbers and symbols. Like a secret code: 3:00280873.
Three days, two hours, ten minutes into the future.