Third Shift - 3. Simon Peter Concluded

4 Simon Peter

February 12th

When he got the call, he couldn’t believe it and he gulped loudly.

His mother had said over and over that bad news comes in threes. Cory always smiled when she said it because you tended to notice patterns even when no such thing existed. The human brain evolved to create meaning out of patterns. This was one of the more powerful things the nervous system could do; anticipate danger.

However, the brain could also create patterns even with non-related occurrences. Cory had learned much of religion and superstition was invented due to such thinking. Some guy writes a book about submission and some Bedouins believe he is a prophet. Another guy has a bunch of followers and when they become dangerous to the status quo, they martyr him. The followers pretend he rose from the dead, and suddenly a cult becomes a full-fledged religion. He was sure this was the truth.

Still, Cory could understand some of what drove believers. When a series of unrelated events overwhelms, it feels like something much bigger.

Cory listened to the caller and nodded. He was dumbstruck by this third set of bad news. As the call ended, he numbly hit ‘end’ and set down his cell phone.

This couldn’t be happening, not all today.

Cory plopped down into his easy chair and looked over at the side stand. There was a note there, crumpled and then smoothed back out. When he read it this morning, he couldn’t believe the words inked on the paper. They seemed almost foreign and he couldn’t believe Sandy had written them.

He picked up the note and read it again, the paper trembling in his quivering hand.

“Cory,

I realize I haven’t been trying as hard as you. I guess I knew it was over before you did. I can’t keep lying to you. I’m in love with Casey, but I’m sure you knew that already. I can’t pretend we are together any longer. It’s not fair to you, or me, or Casey for that matter.

I know you wanted to make it work. I’m sorry to do this, but you won’t listen to me. I’ve told you many times we are done. You don’t want to hear it. Let’s not communicate for a while. You need to accept this. It’s over.

Your friend,

Sandy”

The note had hit him like an anvil falling from the sky. It even hurt his head to read the words. The ideas pounded him in an excruciating way. It was only after he’d scanned it a third time the meaning came across. Cory knew they had problems, but weren’t they working them out? Sure, Sandy had said a couple of times it wasn’t working. They were both trying to fix things though. How could he just abandon them?

It was that fucking Casey. The little bitch had always been jealous of Sandy and Cory’s relationship. He managed to finagle his way between them.

Cory crumpled the note again and threw it across the room. He was breathing hard now, gasping huge lungfuls of air. He could almost see the air shimmer red as his rage toward his former best friend became more real. Cory felt a trickle of sweat drip off his forehead and onto his nose. How could Casey do this to him? How could Sandy do this?

A sudden rush of cold air came over his skin as the latest news reminded him of his fallibility. It rose up in an ache from his gut and he quelled it with a shudder remembering the second bit of bad news today.

John Lawson had been found early this morning beaten bloody. After he’d seen Cory, he was being escorted back to his cell. He was allowed to use the bathroom and it was there he’d been jumped. The guards denied hearing anything, but after being told about how badly he was hurt, Cory couldn’t believe that. It disgusted him the guards could have let this happen.

His boss said Lawson had been taken to Hennepin County Memorial Hospital and treated for broken ribs, a dislocated jaw, and a cracked cheekbone. According to Carroll, his face was so messed up they were worried he’d lose his left eye. It was pretty horrific.

After hearing about it, Cory considered heading out to the hospital to see him. He was exhausted though and in a foul mood given the note he found after work. First, he would get some sleep and then he’d go talk with his patient. It wasn’t like he was in danger now. The hospital had him in the ICU watching him closely.

Then, he got this last piece of news. It was almost too much to bear.

Cory rubbed his face and felt the wet splash of tears on his hand. He grabbed a tissue and blew his nose into it. He stared into space trying to get his bearings.

He felt like everything he believed was all wrong. Maybe this wasn’t the right profession for him or perhaps he wasn’t strong enough to endure. First he lost his life partner. Then he found out one of his patients had been beaten up. Now, he learned he’d been wrong, oh so very wrong about another patient.

Simon Peter Henderson had been found dead hanging from the ceiling, dangling on his own pants.