I couldn't bring myself to go to the hospital that day. I didn't need to. I could already picture Kiran's lifeless body lying on the table. The only thing that comforted me now is the framed pictures around our home and the new recruit. I allowed Ms. Leona, the secretary, to push back my meetings to another time and deal with some of the less important projects I had going on.
I was downing my sixth can of beer of the day when a phone call came, it was from an unknown number. I was reluctant to pick it up. What if it was more bad news? More pain?
I gathered myself and accepted the call and put it on speaker. In my most collected voice I mustered, "this is Dr. Veinar."
"Dr. Veinar!" the familiar voice cheered. It was the red head. "It's me Viollete. Your secretary was adamant on not giving me your phone number which I completely understand but I-"
"Get to the point, Blaire."
There was a moment of silence. Damn, I am in a bad mood. Shouldn't have picked up the phone.
"Ah, yes, of course. My bad. Well, um, there was a new shipment that Ms. Leona brought into the lab and she refused to tell me what it was. I was hoping you could clear up any misunderstandings?
"..."
"Dr. Veinar?"
I hung up. Call me when you have something important to tell me. Like if one of the interns set the lab on fire or the Quantum Mechanics department opened a black hole.
My screen shone with the time blaring at me more aggressively than usual: 13: 37.
I collected the aluminium cans laid across the coffee table and disposed of them and quickly tidied up whatever mess I've made. Just because my husband died doesn't mean I have to make my place into a dump.
I went to my desktop and saw the numerous emails I've ignored for the past week. It was surprisingly less than what I would get on a daily basis. This 'depressed widow' thing is kind of helpful. Not laughable but it does help with lightening the weight on my shoulders.
... I'm not doing this shit....
... I have nothing to do... maybe I should...
... I don't really have the motivation to do anything right now... maybe some food will help?
... didn't help... Now I just feel like a pig...
... should I just head back to the Lab?
... no, I should be focusing on getting over this...
... but I could get my mind off his death...
...
It's 30 minutes until midnight now. I haven't moved from the position I've arranged myself in on the couch. Maybe I could sleep like this. Sleep here. What would he say if he saw me now? "Don't grieve over me" or something stupid like that. I'm not grieving. I'm not mourning over him. I'm not upset.
YOU ARE READING
Vein
Short StoryA story doesn't have to be long to be good. Dr. Veinar, a renowned biologist running a laboratory she and her co-founders built with their from pure ambition. She finds a special talent to take under her wing. Followed by the untimely death of her h...
