Minneapolis
Simply being in the lobby of the medical clinic made Sofia’s skin crawl.
She hated hospitals and doctors. But she was religious about her annual exam after her Aunt Rose died of cancer at thirty-five. And today was the day.
The form the clerk handed her asked about current medications.
Sofia dug in her giant bag. The prescription bottles Dan had given her were rolling around. She was almost out of her pills for anxiety, but still hadn’t taken any of the other pills he’d given her. She didn’t want to tamp down the murderous rage she felt. Although with time, she could feel it lessening in intensity. She wrote the names of the two medications down on the form.
Lorazepam and Clozapine. She didn’t write down the Rohypnol. She glanced down at her phone. It had beeped a few seconds ago. There was a message from Cecile. She’d won the case and she and Alex were on a plane to Paris. For a second, Sofia dreamed about buying a one-way ticket to a faraway land and leaving everything behind. Even Jason, she thought guiltily.
When the nurse called her name, Sofia muted her phone. In the exam room, the nurse asked Sofia the normal questions. But this time she seemed to focus overly long on Sofia’s alcohol use. Something Sofia said triggered a more involved discussion of her drinking habits. Then the nurse asked about abuse and depression. Again, something Sofia said triggered a longer questionnaire about her depression symptoms.
For a second Sofia wanted to tell the nurse—of course I’m drinking too much and depressed, my only child was murdered for God’s sakes.
But she didn’t.
She’d talk to her doctor about it. Someone she’d known for more than a decade. This nurse? She’d never seen her before. It was none of her god damn business why Sofia was depressed and drinking more than normal.
After she changed into the flimsy paper gown and covered her thighs with an equally flimsy piece of paper, the doctor came in. Dr. Patel was holding a clipboard and looked suitably sympathetic. She must know.
“Hi, Sofia, I was heartbroken to hear about your daughter. I saw it in the newspapers.”
“Thank you.”
The doctor looked at Sofia. “I’m not too concerned about your drinking and depression, right this minute. However, you should keep an eye on it. But there is something else I want to talk to you about. Would you mind having a seat over here and we’ll do the exam in a few minutes?”
Sofia awkwardly hopped down from the exam table and sat in the plastic chair near the computer.
“Like I said, I’m not overly concerned about your depression and drinking right now. This would be a normal reaction, in my opinion. In your answers about depression, you don’t actually qualify as a depressed person. I think this is all part of the grieving process. However, I would suggest you consider talking to a therapist about some of these feelings. It can only help.”
Sofia nodded. She had talked to Dan.
“And the drinking? I guess I’m going to worry more if it continues. That amount of alcohol is not good for women our age. And the long-term effects could be dangerous. I’d recommend you really try to cut back. If you have difficulty, we can look at other avenues to help you stop. Plus, the medications you are on—alcohol is going to make them more potent.” Dr. Patel paused and peered over her glasses at Sofia. “That’s actually what I need to talk to you about—the medications you’ve listed here.”
Sofia lifted an eyebrow.
“Sofia, who prescribed these two medications together?”
“A friend.” What did that matter? And he didn’t exactly prescribe them.
“A friend?”
“He’s a therapist. I actually went to him to talk about some of my feelings.”
Dr. Patel took off her glasses and rubbed her temple.
“I’m glad you’re seeking therapy, but I recommend you don’t let him prescribe you any medications. We’ve known each other long enough, Sofia, that if you simply want to call or message me and tell me you are depressed or suffering from anxiety or even have a bad cold, I probably would prescribe something over the phone without an office visit. These are unusual circumstances and so I think we can make some exceptions to avoid an office visit. Will you promise me you’ll do that from now on? Call me?”
Sofia wondered what the big deal was.
“I don’t understand,” she said.
The doctor paused, biting her lip as if trying to decide what to say and then her fingers were a flurry on the keyboard. Sofia waited with an eyebrow raised.
“Do you have the medications with you?”
Sofia extracted the bottles. Dr. Patel looked at the computer screen. Then she sighed.
“Did he say where he got these? They look like contraband.”
“No.” Sofia wasn’t going to get Dan in trouble.
“I’m going to print something out for you. It’s a few pages from the Jefferson Journal of Psychiatry. I’ll be right back.”
As soon as the door closed, Sofia scooted around to look at the monitor of the computer but it was already on some funky screensaver that was making her dizzy. Looking over her shoulder, she touched the mouse, but a login box appeared. Damn.
She’d find out what the doctor was so uptight about soon enough.
Dr. Patel returned and handed Sofia a sheet of paper.
“You obviously haven’t taken these together—or else if you have, you haven’t taken the prescribed dosage on the bottles. I’d say you’ve been extremely lucky.”
“What?”
“Those two drugs at the prescribed dosage have been known to cause a fatal interaction.”
“I don’t understand.” Sofia glanced at the sheet in her hands.
The headline read, “Sudden Cardiac Death with Clozapine and Lorazepam Combination.” It went on to talk about a thirty-year-old man found dead in his apartment from sudden cardiac death due to the combined drugs.
“I know this man is your friend,” Dr. Patel shook her head. “But I’m wondering where he got his medical degree.”
Sofia’s forehead scrunched.
“Whatever you do, don’t take those medications together any more, please. I can renew your prescription for one of them, but please go through me for these things. As I said, we can talk over the phone and get something prescribed for you.” She gave Sofia’s hand a squeeze.
“Okay?”
Sofia nodded.
“Now let’s get this exam done and get you out of here so you can get dressed and warm up again, your hands are like ice.”
Sofia hopped back up on the exam table. Her hands were trembling and her arms and legs were covered with gooseflesh. But it wasn’t from the chill in the air. Her thoughts were all over the place. But she didn’t say a word.
After the exam, sitting in her car at a red light, Sofia rewound every conversation she’d had with Dan since Kate died, every meeting, every look. How many times had he urged her to take the new medication he’d given her? At least a few. He’d been so adamant about her taking the drugs he’d given her.
It was impossible that Dan would want to hurt her. She was losing it. He had no reason to hurt her. But then again, it wasn’t like Dan to be careless when it came to medications.
Sofia pulled over to the side of the road near a park full of kids. She rested her forehead on the steering wheel. All these conversations with Dan came back. He’d acted odd so many times since Kate’s death.
Kate’s death.
Suddenly, it was hard for Sofia to breathe. The sounds of children squealing and laughing seemed surreal. Her hearing was going goofy. The children’s voices were alternating between loud and soft.
Dan would never hurt her, would he? He was always trying to help her. He’d given her that medication to quell her murderous impulses. As she remembered more odd looks, incidents, comments, a feeling of dread spread through her.
Every time she talked about murdering Kate’s killer, he’d seemed so nervous, sweat pouring off him.
She replayed more comments that had struck her as odd at the time, but that she had pushed to the back of her mind. The comments that had set off small alarms she’d ignored: that creepy remark about Gretchen having the body of a sixteen-year-old girl. And that love letter Gretchen had showed her. Sofia fumbled in her bag. It was still there, wadded up in a ball. She spread it out on the steering wheel and re-read it: “I know it’s wrong and would hurt so many people” and “our families” and last winter in Mexico.
Good God. Distantly, she stared at the kids in the park.
He’d also showed up late for the empty nest party in clothes he hadn’t had on earlier in the day. What time was that? The party hadn’t started until later because Cecile and Alex had a law firm dinner to attend first. What time had Dan arrived? Before or after Kate’s death?
Sofia’s face flushed hot. She began to hyperventilate. It couldn’t be possible. No way. Maybe in her depression and quest to find Kate’s killer, she’d become paranoid and delusional.
But she couldn’t ignore it. She had to know.
Sofia started her car and whipped a U-turn, tires squealing as she changed direction.