Sitting behind the wheel, Stevie
sensed clouds of discouragement rolling over her. Did he hear
anything I said? Did he care at all, or is he hopelessly blind and calloused to
mercy and compassion? Did I just waste another fifteen minutes of my life after having thrown six months
into the garbage?
Driving out to the road, she
criticized herself for being too direct in her approach, calcifying the
senator's resolve to ignore his son. Then she criticized herself for not being
direct enough. By the time she reached the end of the driveway, Stevie had
pulled herself back to center. I went to the man, and I said what I
should have said, she assured herself. I'm not
responsible for how he responds. Having dealt with the discouragement,
she was now filled with a profound sadness for Senator Bellardi. She drove past
Ernie with a benign wave and turned the Cherokee toward the hospital.
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