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“Great. We’ll look forward to it.”
Lorenzo got into the car, and as he drove away, he looked over at me. “Who were you talking to on the phone?”
“Just Christian.”
“And what were you talking about?”
“Family stuff—nothing important.” I tried not to sound guilty as I said that—I knew I shouldn’t have told Christian about Lorenzo’s allergy, but I really couldn’t see what harm it would do and it had just slipped out.
Since leaving the clinic earlier, Lorenzo hadn’t mentioned anything again about Wilbur having to leave—but I could tell that he was still really pissed at me.
***
The next morning, I double-checked with Lorenzo that he had taken his medication and inhalers.
He grudgingly admitted that he had and that his breathing was definitely getting easier.
After he’d told me about what had happened to Rita, I’d thought that would bring us closer together. And it had a little, but Lorenzo still seemed so distant at times as if he were carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. I wondered if his distance was just due to the whole thing that had happened with Rita, or if something else might also be bothering him? I really didn’t know, though, as he was such a closed book most of the time.
This morning, after Lorenzo had left following breakfast, I got out the children’s art and crafts supplies, and they happily set to work on their creations.
I had various appointments to schedule for the children, and I had made a note to myself to check if they were up to date with their immunizations. Lorenzo wasn’t sure what shots had and hadn’t been done. As it was my job now to take care of these things, he had given me a folder which contained various medical papers for both kids.
Sitting on the couch in the den, I sifted through the medical papers while keeping an eye on the kids at the same time.
I quickly found Clemente’s immunization record and checked it off to see what he’d had and what was due.
I then carried on going through the papers and looking for Clara’s record.
I was halfway through the file when I found an appointment card in Rita’s name. The name of the doctor was Dr. Lois Fontaine. There was a contact telephone number, but no further details. The date of the appointment was one week before she died.
This file was supposed to contain the children’s papers. The card must have been filed in the wrong place.
After turning the card over again and again in my hands, I got out my phone and searched for a Dr. Lois Fontaine in the Chicago area. I found a match, and the website I was led to listed Dr. Fontaine as a psychologist specializing in helping patients suffering with depression, including postpartum depression.
I got up and went to the dining room.
Using my cell, I rang the number on the appointment card.
“Good morning. Dr. Fontaine’s office. How may I help you?”
“Oh, hi,” I said. “I wanted to make an appointment with Dr. Fontaine. I saw her quite a while ago, so I’m not sure if I’d need to book an assessment appointment or a follow-up appointment?”
“Sure, ma’am. May I take your name, date of birth, and the date of your last appointment with Dr. Fontaine please.”
I took a deep breath. “The name is Mrs. Rita Marchiano.” After giving Rita’s date of birth, I crossed my fingers and said that my last appointment was on the date listed on the appointment card I’d just found.
“Yes, I’ve found you on my system. Your last appointment was more than a year ago, so you would need a new assessment with the doctor. That appointment will be longer than a standard follow-up appointment.” It was clear no one had notified this doctor’s office that Rita had passed away, and that was just what I needed so that I could pretend to be Rita and get some information.
“Can you remind me how many appointments I had with her in total last time?”
“Sure. Let me just check.”
I held my breath as she checked her records.
“You saw the doctor for a total of seven appointments then.”
“Okay, that’s helpful. I’ll ring back when I have a clearer idea of when I’ll be free to attend an appointment. Thanks for your time.”
