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“But you’re not,” she replies.
“Stay on your honeymoon. Have a mai-tai for me. And turn off the fucking news or internet or whatever you guys are watching. Shouldn’t you be fucking like rabbits, not paying attention to the news?” I meant it in jest but it just came out bitterly.
“The TV was on in the bar—”
“You know what... whatever. Please have a good time. I’ll text you once a day that I’m fine. Okay?”
“Promise?”
“Promise,” I reply, ending the call and throwing the phone across the room.
“Fuck!” I scream.
I sit down and contemplate what to do. I know deep down I can’t take my own life. I can’t do that to Carter and Taryn. They truly care about me.
And what about Christa? Would she care? Doesn’t matter. She’s too good for me, and deserves a man who doesn’t fucking kill people.
I can’t go on like this. I have to do something. Prison and the hefty fine wasn’t enough, they didn’t do anything. They won’t bring that little girl’s parents back.
A conversation I heard around the water cooler at work comes back to me. Six men and women were leaving for Africa with the Doctors Around the World organization. I’d lost my doctorate license, and still had hopes to get it back, but I could help. I could do something—anything.
Seven
Eric
Two months later
Kenya, Africa
Here, I can actually breathe. I have a purpose. Nobody knows I’m a murderer. I’m justdaktari, or dak for short. Doctor. Doc.
“Dak, my leg better!” A little girl looks up at me with a big white smile. Her shiny dark skin reflects the sun streaming into the tent.
“That’s great, Afia. And it’ll continue to get better if you eat your vegetables and drink a lot of water, okay? You’ll grow up big and strong!” I pull up my arm in a muscle man pose and flex my bicep.
She giggles and hobbles off on her makeshift crutch.
