Heart of the Matter by KI Thompson

replaced by sobs she couldn’t control. She wept bitterly, sitting on the cool tiles in her hall. She cried until she had no tears left and then put the flowers on the dining-room table and poured herself a drink.
    She was working on her third scotch and had begun to calm down after her tirade, but she felt hollow inside. Now everyone at the station would know. She could only guess what the fallout would be, but she knew it wouldn’t be good. As if in answer to her question, the phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID; it was her agent’s number.
    “Fuck.” She picked up the receiver. “Hello, Dean.”
    “Hey, Kate. How’re you doing?”
    “Great,” she said, knowing her tone suggested otherwise.
    “I just got a call from the station’s attorneys, and they would like to meet with you.”
    “Call Phillip,” Kate said, referring to her attorney. “He can handle it.”
    “They specifically asked for you to be present.”
    “Well, tell them I’m still recovering. They’ll have to meet without me.”
    “Kate, they probably need for you to sign your contract. You never did, you know.”
    She snorted. “Dean, I’ll tell you right now that signing the contract is the furthest thing from their minds.” There was a pause on the other end. “What do you mean?” Wishing she didn’t have to talk about this but knowing it was no use, she sighed. “Go to the meeting for me, will you, Dean? You and Phillip. See what they have to say and call me back.” She hung up without waiting for a response.
    She picked up the bottle of scotch from the coffee table and poured another long shot into her glass. This was it, the end of her career. After everything she had achieved and after all her hard work, it had come to this. Were it not her own life, she would almost laugh at the absurdity. All the plans she had made, the benchmarks she had set for herself—she had achieved them on schedule. And they had disappeared in the blink of an eye on a rainy night on the Capital Beltway.
    If she had only been early, or five minutes later, she would have missed the accident entirely. Three people had died and six walked away. She was in the heart of the collision, where the deaths had occurred. She shouldn’t have been one of the survivors, but here she was. Surviving, yes, but for what? To watch her career—no, her life—go down the shit chute?
    When the doorbell rang again, she dragged herself over and greeted her next unwanted visitor.
    “Hi, Kate.” Ellen juggled several bags and didn’t look up immediately. “They were out of Tide so I got you Cheer. I hope that’s okay. And since there was a sale on the bagels I—”
    “Just give me the fucking groceries, will you?” Kate tore the bags out of Ellen’s arms and slammed the door.
    Ellen’s ears rang with the sound echoing down the hallway. She stared at the wood-grain surface inches from her face, wondering what she’d done wrong. It was the Tide, had to be. No, Kate wouldn’t get all bent out of shape over detergent…would she?
    Ellen felt dazed as she stumbled down the hall. General Beauregard ran to her as soon as she stepped inside, rubbing against her as usual. She picked him up and hugged him to her chest, agonizing over what she’d done to cause Kate’s outburst. She examined every word repeatedly, including the discussion they’d had earlier that day about what Kate needed. No matter how many times she revisited each scene, she was still mystified as to what had set Kate off.
    “Come on, PGT.” She kissed Beau on the top of his head. “You and I need a treat to make us feel better.” She went into the kitchen, dropped him on the counter, and tried to decide what she felt like eating. The refrigerator revealed a takeout box of fettuccine Alfredo from the lunch she’d shared with Linda when they were shopping on Wednesday. Her stomach grumbled and she contemplated making a salad to go along with the pasta.
    But as she removed the carton from the