Chapter 12
Six months after leaving the psychiatric ward, Issac returned to his role as the celebrated business prodigy, his scarred body hidden beneath designer suits.
Dr. York maintained regular contact.
“You dreamed of Evelyn again last night, didn’t you?” she asked gently, Issac gave her an odd look.
“Yes,” he set down his cup of warm milk. “She wanted to kill me, to take me with her. I agreed, but every time, Evelyn’s heart softens.”
His hallucinations hadn’t improved. He still believed Evelyn was real. Dr. York had learned to go along
with it otherwise, he’d refuse all treatment.
“I see. But have you wondered why Sophia never appears? You say you’re responsible for both their
deaths, yet only Evelyn haunts you. Why?”
Issac fell silent before concluding bluntly: “I deserve death.”
He remained resistant to therapy. Dr. York had accepted this dynamic. Since he wasn’t a danger to others, they couldn’t mandate hospitalization. Medication was their best option.
This suited Issac. He had no interest in resolving his trauma – he just wanted the drugs to numb him enough to function at work.
While people praised his business success, only he knew the truth – his current wealth meant nothing. The money Evelyn had donated to children’s education before her death had become one of only two reasons he kept working.
He’d donated millions, but it wasn’t enough.
Picking up his prescription bag, Issac checked his phone in the car. A message from their college class president: “8–year reunion this Sunday! All local alumni welcome.”
He deleted it without interest and drove to the cemetery.
The Hernandezs had refused to let Evelyn be buried beside Sophia. Issac had found the closest plot possible, so the sisters could be near each other. He sat between their graves with a bottle of whiskey.
“Sophia,” his voice wavered, “ask Evelyn for me – when will she let me die?”
It’s Too Late for Your Expired Reørers
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Chapter 12
Sophia’s photo showed her beaming, forever young in her college days.
Issac was now past thirty.
The city’s winter felt like being trapped in ice. Issac had surprisingly slept well last night, not waking until
eleven.
Turning off his alarm, he got up. The side effects of his medication meant he could only wake naturally.
Fortunately, there wasn’t much urgent business today. He recalled Dr. York suggesting that spending time in nature might help his mental state. Though skeptical, he couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.
Besides his psychiatrist of three years, he had no friends, no one to confide in. Perhaps following her
advice more often would make her job easier.
Looking through his closet, Issac realized no one had helped coordinate his outfits since Evelyn’s death. For both business functions and daily work, he stuck to simple, foolproof combinations.
Today’s down jacket and cargo pants didn’t really match, but his tall frame made it passable.
He picked the farthest park his GPS suggested. Though he had no interest in recreation, the long drive
with soft music might clear his head. The hour–long journey played through Evelyn’s favorite playlist
twice.
Evelyn used to get carsick, so Issac always drove smoothly, keeping sour plum candies in the glove compartment. At a red light, he reached over and took one. The familiar taste calmed his growing anxiety.
As he crunched the candy, something bumped his car from behind. In the rearview mirror, he saw a young woman on an electric scooter, looking terrified at his Porsche’s rear bumper.
“I’m so sorry, sir,” she said, eyes welling with tears. Issac glanced at the scratch on his Panamera and shrugged it off.
The girl insisted, “Please, let me pay for it. Can I get your contact information?”
She was young, reminding him of Evelyn in college, rushing across the cold city to her tutoring jobs. “Don’t worry about it,” he said.
She persisted, but Issac knew the repair would cost at least $30,000. Irritated, he simply drove away.
In the northern winter, the trees stood bare. Few children visited the park this season, but as he entered, Issac heard laughter.
He glanced toward the sound and walked away, uninterested.
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It’s Too Late for Your Expired Regrets
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Chapter 13
Chapter 13
