The Mule

Chapter 1

Marissa looked up the steps to the four storey building in front of her. She hadn't been told there was a flight of stairs - she'd assumed that "first floor" would be ground level, so she hadn't asked. Normally, she could get up a flight of stairs with effort, but it was slow going and today it was raining. I'm already soaked, she reasoned, but I'm not sure I want to go in. I shouldn't have come, even though my oncologist really gave me no choice if I didn't want to be hospitalized involuntarily.

"Hi, you must be June?" a voice asked as a man approached her. She looked at him and estimated his height to be about 5 feet 9 or 10 inches and his age early to mid 40's. He had shortish dark hair with a bit of grey at the sides and a somewhat stocky build. He was wearing a long coat and holding an umbrella over his head. His face looked kind, but in that split second she made the decision that she could not go through with it. Little did she know that he would some day save her life.

"No, I'm Marissa", she said, using her real name for the first time in 3 years. She decided to be proactive instead of reactive. "Are you my hair stylist?"

The man looked taken aback. "Hair stylist? No, there are no hair salons at this address."

"Oh, I must have the wrong place."

"What address are you looking for?"

"503 Bridgeton Street."

"This is that address."

"Perhaps I wrote it down wrong."

"Do you have the paper with you?"

"Yes."

"May I see it?"'

Marissa let go of one of her forearm crutches and took a piece of paper out of her jeans pocket, thanking herself for putting it there instead of in her purse, which was harder to rummage around in and keep her balance at the same time. She didn't owe him a look at the paper, but she had to make her lie believable and she did not want a confrontation – she just wanted to get out of there and go home. She also thanked herself for not writing his name down on the paper. Over the last few years, she had learned to always be cautious.

"You have the right address", he said as he looked at the paper. "Are you sure you aren't my 10 o'clock appointment?"

"Only if you are a ladies' hair stylist." She forced a smile.

"No, not a hair stylist", he chuckled. "At any rate, you are soaking wet, why don't you come in and dry off? I'll make you a cup of tea."

"Oh, I couldn't trouble you", she replied.

"It's no trouble at all ... really. Though if my appointment does show up, you'll have to sit in my kitchen." He was certain she was his new patient, but he played along, hoping to trip her up and get her to admit the charade. "Are you able to get up those stairs?"

"Oh, I can do the stairs", she said "but I'm not going into a strange place with with a man I've never met before". She turned and started to walk past him, down the street.

Braxton let her get a few feet away, then called after her "June!" She didn't even flinch and kept walking. "Marissa!" She stopped and turned around. "You forgot your piece of paper." He loped to her and handed it to her. She took it and put it back in her pocket.

"Thanks, though I don't really need it since it's the wrong address."

"Look, I know you don't know me, but I can prove who I am. My name is Dr Braxton Jagger. Let me show you my identification." He reached in his coat pocket and took out his wallet. Handing his driver's licence to her, he said "You'll see the diplomas on my wall when we get up there." He gestured toward the building.