And If there was a tomorrow

Prologue

Prologue

The chaotic traffic of the city has always bothered me. The feeling of wasted time while being part of a giant centipede of red lights waiting to move a few inches as a slug makes me feel like time is running down my fingers and I can't hold it. For a while now, I've tried to use different methods to let go of this feeling: I listen to podcasts, I attend courses on the car multimedia. Some people may think that it could distract me from traffic, which could be dangerous, but what is the risk while moving at less than 3 miles an hour? However, all my efforts are useless. I still have the feeling of running an ultramarathon while stuck inside a box of matches.

For some reason, which I haven't figured out yet, today I'm more anxious to get home than usual. Perhaps it's the exhaustion, the day was busier than normal, or perhaps the intuition that something is about to happen. I hit the car radio with rage, as if it were responsible for my prison and tardiness, pushing the buttons several times and changing the radio stations, trying to find a song I like and distract me from my problem. Why do people talk so much in these shows? If radio stations are intended to broadcast news or play music, why all that talk? I give up. I decide to pair my phone to the car media, something that I should have done a long time ago, but I kept postponing. It was easier than I thought. I look for a Spotify playlist in my library and put it on. Finally, something that pleases me. I turn down the dreadful sounds of honks, curses, engines, and voices that insist on populating the external environment, and I take a dive into the melody and lyrics of my favorite John Legend's song. That single minute seems to toss me into a serenity island amid chaos, but that wouldn't last long, because my distraction made me unaware that the car in front of me had moved and the driver behind me made sure to warn me by making his horn suffer from his rage and insistence. It screamed so loudly that I could feel my eardrum ache. I consider making a unpolite signal as a reply to that noisy violence, but I let go and keep on moving. It's a cold late afternoon and the sun is lethargically hiding in the horizon, and I start to restlessly tap my fingers onto the steering wheel, denoting my impatience. I did that for more than one hour and a half until I spotted the well-known facade of my building and took a pleased breath. I parked the car, grabbed my stuff from the trunk and tried equilibrating them till the elevator, and then to my living room, although they insisted on dropping to the sides, and escaping from my hands, turning my task more difficult.

I opened the door with difficulty and realized that letters were delivered to the apartments on that day. The mailman had stopped by, and he appeared to be inspired that day, or perhaps catching up with the late deliveries of the week, because there were a lot of letters under my door. I kicked them inside, threw everything over the couch and went back to find out if any of those envelopes were worthwhile or if they were only junk mail that I couldn't care less about. I quickly eyed all of them and a white sealed envelope, with only my name on it, caught my attention. I opened it and apprehensively started reading the letter addressed to me. As I read the words, my heart started to beat fast and a slight shiver of outrage, anger, and sadness took over my body. I couldn't believe what I read. The chance of having a joyful and pleasant end of the day had just been destroyed. Those words destroyed my dream as an earthquake that damaged and crashed buildings. I finished reading, let the letter drop from my hand towards the floor and, before I could get myself together, my phone started screaming for attention. I looked at the caller ID and it was from the hospital. I couldn't decide whether I should answer or not: what could they want from me? I had just left. I mentally cursed, but I had to answer it. I grabbed the letter, put it on a drawer and pressed the green button.

─ Hello!

─ Dr. Linda?

­─ This is she.

─ A doctor that was supposed to be on call didn't show up today and we are waiting for an emergency to arrive in 20 minutes. Could you come back?

─ Of course. I'll be there as fast as I can.

And I naively thought that the worst thing that could happen to me that day was the letter. I took a final quick look at the drawer and left on a hurry.