I couldn’t quite figure out if Bryant was despicable or just pitiful. “So, you’re

worried that the truth about his mother’s death might set him off again?”

“Yeah.” Gary nodded, “The psychiatrist suggested we take it slow and wait

until Mr. Bryant’s feeling a bit better.”

“Okay.” My response was flat, devoid of any emotion.

I’d rather not deal with the Ferguson family’s drama anymore if it weren’t for

Timothy’s dying wish. But then, getting home and thinking about Bryant’s

plight stirred a faint sense of pity in me. That quickly evaporated, however, the

moment I remembered how he yelled at me in the hospital room. That scant

pity vanished without a trace.

I suddenly found myself loathing my inability to be more decisive, hating that I

couldn’t plan things better.

While I was lying on the couch, zoning out in sheer boredom, Christine

suddenly popped by.

door. “Why didn’t you just use

to walk in on something I shouldn’t see.” Christine

kicked off her heels, and slipped into

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me. “Why

the snake at its head today.” I tossed her a

the couch, laughing at myself. “It turned out

startled the snake instead.”

the poet today.” Christine unscrewed

“Too bad I’m lost. Can you spell it out for

today.” I sighed, “I had

Bryant’s mother’s death and was ready

shipped off.”

the

and now, we’ve got

sipped her juice. “But Bryant not trusting you? Not

curious.

he ever

she’d have gone on a rant about Margaret’s

was

saw her eyes

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