A Five-Minute Life

“Thank you,” Linda said. “I know he is, but it’s nice to hear from someone else. For both of us.”

Then her eyes widened. “Wait… Tomorrow’s the day, right?”

I nodded, my heartbeat taking off at the mention. “Yeah, it is.” I looked to Jason. “We might have to cancel this week’s appointment, buddy.”

Jason rolled his eyes with a smirk and tapped his iPad: Because of your GIRLFRIEND???

“Look at that,” I said turning the iPad to Linda. “I didn’t teach him to be a smart-ass. Did you teach him to be a smart-ass?”

Linda gave her son a look, but Jase looked supremely proud of himself. He loved when I swore around him. It made him feel grown up.

“You’ll let us know how it goes?” she said.

Perfectly. It has to go perfectly.

“I will,” I said.

I finished the session with Jason, working with him on breathing and relaxation. Like mine, Jason’s stutter was psychological, a result of his father’s abuse. Linda escaped the marriage two years ago, but Jason?

?s trauma remained. He struggled with elongation of vowel sounds and blocking of consonants. He had a long road ahead of him, but I knew he’d find his breakthrough. I couldn’t give it to him, I could only tell him it was there.

In the parking lot, I gave him a hug and ruffled his hair. “Send me all your good mojo, okay. I’m nervous.”

Slash, scared shitless.

“I h-h-hope she’ll beeeeeee o-o-okay,” he said.

“Thanks, Jase. I hope so too.”

Linda gave me a wave and they drove off. I hurried to my truck and cranked up the heat, then drove to Blue Ridge Sanitarium.

“Hey, Jim,” Melanie said from the front desk.

She’d replaced Jules awhile back when Mr. Webb was found wandering toward the security checkpoint. Jules had been on an illicit smoke break.

“Hey, Mel.”

I signed in on the Visitor’s Log clipboard. If I were to flip through the pages, my name would appear on every single one. For the last five hundred and forty-seven days.

Eighteen months.

Thea had been back in her prison for eighteen months. Tomorrow morning, Dr. Milton and Dr. Chen were going to try again to break her free.

They’d found the issue with Hazarin—an enzyme that caused blood clots, which led to stroke. The new drug—Laparin—had been tested for months and deemed safe, but there was no round of test subjects ahead of Thea this time. She’d be in the first group to trial it.

Because I had power of attorney over her healthcare decisions, it was up to me whether she took the new drug or not.

“Yes,” I’d told Dr. Chen immediately, wondering how it was possible to feel incredible elation and heart-stopping fear at the exact same time. “Yes, give it to her. It’s what she’d want.”

Rounds of tests commenced. Thea’s MRI and PET scans all came back clear. Dr. Milton flew in from Sydney and was ready to perform his procedure again, bonding the new drug and the stem cells. Erect a new bridge between Thea and her memories.

I was terrified but Thea was ready.

She’s suffered enough.

Alonzo stood outside the door to the rec room, chatting with Anna and Rita.

“Hey,” I said addressing the people I loved most, which I supposed made them my family.