slit wrists resting face up on the rim of his bathtub.
“Did you have any knowledge of
this?” the officer asks, redrawing Neve’s wavering focus.
Her frown deepens, and she shakes
her head, ‘no’.
“Because we found eighteen missed
calls from the same number we reached you at.”
The calls , Neve’s heart drops.
“My phone was—um… I was supposed
to see him last night, but he didn’t show,” she starts to well up.
“I’m sure he’s going to be fine.”
“How did he—” Neve chokes on the
words, hoping he’ll spare her the gruesome details.
“It looks like he was trying to
drown himself.”
Confusion taints Neve’s expression.
“What..?”
“Apparently, the custodian kept
hearing a phone ring, and figured someone had lost it. And when he turned the
corner, he saw Mr. Wilder jump, and dove in after him.”
Dove ? Custodian ?
Off Neve’s expression, “into the
pool,” the officer clarifies. “At UBC’s Aquatic Center.”
She can’t breathe. She can’t
think. The heavy pain in her gut is threatening to drop her to her knees.
“Real lucky timing too. If it
wasn’t for your calls,” he shakes his head, his lips pressed together.
“But, Elli’s a world-class
swimmer,” she says. “He even used to compete.”
With that, palpable unease
overcomes the officer and he drops his gaze. “When we got to the scene, we
found a fifty-pound disc-weight and a metal chain in the deep end of the pool.”
He scratches his temple. “It was apparently quite the struggle to pry them off
of Mr. Wilder.”
An anchor ...
Neve’s vacant gaze sinks through
the air, and she stares through the floor at where the pool’s surface would be,
if she was back up on that diving board.
“I really can’t imagine how hard
this must be,” the officer says, “but try not to worry. The doctor should be
out soon.”
“Well what’s he doing in there
anyway?” she looks up, body atremble. “You either drown, or you don’t.”
σ
Neve leans
forward on her elbows, and buries her face in the palms of her hands.
It has been forty four minutes
since she arrived at the hospital. She almost wishes there was someone else in
the waiting room. Someone she could sneak glances at, wonder about, distract
herself with. She’d settle for a screaming child at this point. Anything would
be better than to sit here in silence while the officer’s account of the
incident replays in her mind. And what’s worse, she can’t seem to make sense of
any of it. Of the timing of her outgoing calls to Elli. Of the similarities
between her dream and how he tried to—
Her fingertips rake into her
hairline. She grips her aching head, trying to piece her fragmented thoughts
together. But they keep being drowned by the sound of her heart, pounding. Counting.
What the hell is taking so long ?
At the sound of approaching
footsteps, Neve leans back in her seat with her eyes glued to the door.
An older man with gray hair and matching scrubs emerges from the
hallway, and his eyes immediately land on the only other person in the waiting
room.
“Are you waiting for Mr. Wilder?”
he asks.
“Elliot Wilder. Yes.” Neve slowly
rises to her feet. “How is he?”
The doctor looks down at his
clipboard, but he’s not actually reading what’s on it. His lips are parted as though
the words are on the tip of his tongue. “I’m afraid we were unable to
resuscitate him.”
Neve watches him readjust his
glasses.
“I’m guessing you’ve been briefed
with regards to the pool, but the official cause of death is overdose.”
Cause of death , Neve thinks, robbed of all hope.
“Phenobarbital,” the doctor elaborates
when Neve fails to acknowledge his revelation. “He had almost ten times the
recommended dosage in his blood.”
“Overdose…” Neve lags behind.
“I’m terribly sorry for your
loss,” he heads for the door, but hesitates. “If it’s any consolation,” he
turns to Neve, “Phenobarbital is a sedative.
“Did you have any knowledge of
this?” the officer asks, redrawing Neve’s wavering focus.
Her frown deepens, and she shakes
her head, ‘no’.
“Because we found eighteen missed
calls from the same number we reached you at.”
The calls , Neve’s heart drops.
“My phone was—um… I was supposed
to see him last night, but he didn’t show,” she starts to well up.
“I’m sure he’s going to be fine.”
“How did he—” Neve chokes on the
words, hoping he’ll spare her the gruesome details.
“It looks like he was trying to
drown himself.”
Confusion taints Neve’s expression.
“What..?”
“Apparently, the custodian kept
hearing a phone ring, and figured someone had lost it. And when he turned the
corner, he saw Mr. Wilder jump, and dove in after him.”
Dove ? Custodian ?
Off Neve’s expression, “into the
pool,” the officer clarifies. “At UBC’s Aquatic Center.”
She can’t breathe. She can’t
think. The heavy pain in her gut is threatening to drop her to her knees.
“Real lucky timing too. If it
wasn’t for your calls,” he shakes his head, his lips pressed together.
“But, Elli’s a world-class
swimmer,” she says. “He even used to compete.”
With that, palpable unease
overcomes the officer and he drops his gaze. “When we got to the scene, we
found a fifty-pound disc-weight and a metal chain in the deep end of the pool.”
He scratches his temple. “It was apparently quite the struggle to pry them off
of Mr. Wilder.”
An anchor ...
Neve’s vacant gaze sinks through
the air, and she stares through the floor at where the pool’s surface would be,
if she was back up on that diving board.
“I really can’t imagine how hard
this must be,” the officer says, “but try not to worry. The doctor should be
out soon.”
“Well what’s he doing in there
anyway?” she looks up, body atremble. “You either drown, or you don’t.”
σ
Neve leans
forward on her elbows, and buries her face in the palms of her hands.
It has been forty four minutes
since she arrived at the hospital. She almost wishes there was someone else in
the waiting room. Someone she could sneak glances at, wonder about, distract
herself with. She’d settle for a screaming child at this point. Anything would
be better than to sit here in silence while the officer’s account of the
incident replays in her mind. And what’s worse, she can’t seem to make sense of
any of it. Of the timing of her outgoing calls to Elli. Of the similarities
between her dream and how he tried to—
Her fingertips rake into her
hairline. She grips her aching head, trying to piece her fragmented thoughts
together. But they keep being drowned by the sound of her heart, pounding. Counting.
What the hell is taking so long ?
At the sound of approaching
footsteps, Neve leans back in her seat with her eyes glued to the door.
An older man with gray hair and matching scrubs emerges from the
hallway, and his eyes immediately land on the only other person in the waiting
room.
“Are you waiting for Mr. Wilder?”
he asks.
“Elliot Wilder. Yes.” Neve slowly
rises to her feet. “How is he?”
The doctor looks down at his
clipboard, but he’s not actually reading what’s on it. His lips are parted as though
the words are on the tip of his tongue. “I’m afraid we were unable to
resuscitate him.”
Neve watches him readjust his
glasses.
“I’m guessing you’ve been briefed
with regards to the pool, but the official cause of death is overdose.”
Cause of death , Neve thinks, robbed of all hope.
“Phenobarbital,” the doctor elaborates
when Neve fails to acknowledge his revelation. “He had almost ten times the
recommended dosage in his blood.”
“Overdose…” Neve lags behind.
“I’m terribly sorry for your
loss,” he heads for the door, but hesitates. “If it’s any consolation,” he
turns to Neve, “Phenobarbital is a sedative.
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