Grace chatted with her mother into the cell phone Howie had given her, as she left the airport and hailed a taxi.
"Yes Mom, I'm sure I want to go back," Grace told her mother. "You just came to visit me last week! . . . I have been calling, but I will try to call more. . . . I know Mom, but I need to be with my friends right now. I love you, thank you for being so supportive. . . . Howie's a great guy Mom, I can hardly wait for you to meet him. . . ." A taxi pulled over and Grace stepped in. She paused her phone conversation.
"The Marriot please."
"Yes ma'am," The driver answered, tossing her a smile. Grace helped herself to one of the foil wrapped mints set out for passengers.
"Katherine said that I'm more than healthy enough to get back to work. I could have been discharged a week ago if they hadn't been so concerned with my recovery time . . ." Grace continued, "Dr. Katherine Sharpe was my doctor Mom, and no, it was only a hair line skull fracture. You know it sounds much worse than it actually is. . . . Of course I will, I'm always careful . . . I love you too, say I love you to Dad for me. . . . Okay Mom, Bye." Grace hung up the phone with the push of a button and sat back in her seat. Her mind drifted and her thoughts wandered back to her slightly unsettling morning.
Grace pushed through the door of her hospital room one last time, after coming back from her second painful session with Karen Kosseff. She had checked in with her doctor one last time, and was ready to get out of this place. She grabbed the bag of things her Mom and friends had brought up for her, and checked to make sure she hadn't left anything behind. Grace looked around her bed, and smiled as she noticed ‘Superstars Of The Superbowl' lying innocently on her bedside table. She grabbed it and shoved it in her bag.
"You're finally leaving," A deep, male voice assumed.
Grace looked up in surprise. It was the first time her male room-mate of one week, who had been moved into her room due to hospital over crowding, had truly spoken to her. "You can talk," Grace gasped, eyes wide.
"Observant, aren't we?" The man muttered. He was older, probably in his sixties. He lay still in bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Grace sat down on her bed. "Why haven't you said anything until now? I could have used someone to talk to . . ."
"Oh, Now honestly why would I have wanted to talk to you?" The man asked in his monotone voice. "You and your boyfriend, you and your pain, you and your nightmares!" He sighed and paused. "We bury our dead alive, don't we?"
Grace's eyebrow's creased. "I don't know what you mean."
"You see her everyday . . ." He explained. "She talks to you, she haunts you, she begs you for meaning. Conscience: It's just the voices of the dead, trying to save us from our own damnation."
Grace thought for a moment. "Are you talking about the past?"
The man was silent. Finally: "It wasn't a question, just an observation."
"How did you know about her?" Grace asked.
"It made the nightly news I'm sure." The man answered. "Her name was Carrie. Carrie Gregor."
Grace nodded. She had already known that. She had requested that information of Nurse Owens. Grace even knew where the girl had been buried. "Well, I have a plane to catch. I'm sorry we never got much of a chance to talk. Good luck with everything."
"You need it more than I do," The man responded. "I'll be dead in two days. By the way, say hi to Victoria for me."
Grace's eyebrows creased in confusion. "How do you know Victoria?"
"Let's just say we have something in common. Good bye now," The man told her. He shut his eyes.
"Bye," Grace replied. ‘How odd,' she thought to herself as she walked out of her hospital room. She wanted to say good bye to Nurse Owens before she left.
"Excuse me?" She called into the nurses' office. "Is Nurse Owens around?" No one answered her. Grace rolled her eyes. "Excuse me!" She called a little louder. The gaggle of nurses paused their conversations to look at her. "Has anyone seen Nurse Owens?"
A male nurse, with dark brown skin approached her. "There's no one here by the name of Nurse Owens. She may have been transferred here from another ward for a brief time, but I don't know her. Why do you need her?"
Grace fingered the tiny, silver pentacle around her neck. "She took care of me. I just wanted to give her something. If you do see someone names Nurse Owens, she's a bigger lady, short brown hair . . . Can you tell her that Grace said good bye?"
The man nodded. "Of course, but I've only been working here three weeks, and I haven't met everyone yet. Have a good day Miss." He smiled and returned to his work.
Grace sighed and left the office. She couldn't wait to be out of this hospital. All she wanted was to be back with her friends and away from all this pain.
Grace shook her head to clear the strange morning from her mind as the cab pulled up to the hotel. "We're here ma'am," The driver told her.
"Thank you," she said, paying him.
Grace got out of the cab and headed for the hotel lobby.
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