But I never did.
What was the point? He’d made up his mind about me. The only thing that would change it was proof.
And proof was coming.
When the mail truck finally pulled up on day seven, I was standing at the window like I’d been doing every afternoon. My heart jumped into my throat the second I saw the white envelope in the mailman’s hand. Clinic logo in the corner. My name printed on the front. My entire future folded up inside a single piece of paper.
I ran outside in my bare feet, not caring that the concrete was cold, not caring that I was still in my pajamas. I grabbed the envelope from his hands before he could put it in the box. He gave me a strange look, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything except what was inside. I held it against my chest and felt my heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.
This was it. This was finally it. Seven days of hell were about to end.
I was about to be vindicated.
I called Jeff first. I don’t know why. Maybe because he was the only person who’d believed me. Maybe because I needed someone in my corner when I finally proved the world wrong.
He answered on the second ring.
“The results came,” I said, and I could hear the hope in my own voice. “They’re here, Jeff. I’m holding them right now.”
He told me he’d be there in ten minutes and to wait for him before I opened anything. I agreed because I wanted witnesses. I wanted everyone to see the moment I was proven innocent.
Then I went to the guest room door and knocked.
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