"My
bride," Phil said, motioning toward the bed. The
rich girl's skin was sallow, tight, and Barrett
guessed she had lost thirty pounds. The EKG machine
beeped. She looked like a sleeping child but for the
respirator tube down her throat and the IV lines in
her bruised veins.
"You know, I wish it didn't have to be this
way," Phil said, taking her hand. His eyelid
twitched. For once, he seemed to doubt himself.
"I never set out to be this way."
Barrett looked away from him to the EKG screen.
"Let's get out of here," he said.
Phil stared at him, then through him. They stood
quietly, as if there might still be time for a
different ending, for kindness. Then the moment
passed. When Phil produced a veil, Barrett handed the
license to him and left. |