Read Online Point of Balance by J.G. Jurado - Free Book Online

her.
    Then from the bedstead she hung a cocktail of propofol, fentanyl and Anectine she had secretly prepared in the hospital and mainlined it with the drip kindly inserted by her colleague. Then she sank into a sweet sleep from which she would never wake up.
    In hindsight, Rachel’s planning was flawless. That morning she had mailed me her farewell letter, the one I had never spoken about to anybody. Then she had phoned the school to say Julia would be taking the day off, took her out to play in the park and then to eat pizza, ice cream and other junk that was off-limits midweek.
    I have often asked Julia about that day. What Rachel said to her, whether she hugged her or said anything out of the ordinary. But Julia remembers very little. It’s weird how pure, unadulterated happiness leaves no trace in our hearts, but the murky waters of sadness blight everything. Our little girl simply remembers that Rachel told her she loved her and would be with her always.
    â€œMommy smelled like strawberries.”
    When I got home from work, my wife was supposedly about to go on duty. It was usual on such days to steal a couple of kisses between one of us coming and the other going, so it took me by surprise to see her standing barefoot and waiting for me in the front yard.
    â€œWhat’s up?” I asked, giving her an inquiring look.
    â€œI want to feel the grass between my toes.”
    â€œYou’ll be late for work, you slacker,” I objected, not knowing she’d already called in sick.
    â€œThere’s not much going on today. Let’s have some tea.”
    We sat in cozy silence for a bit. When she finally got going, she gave me a big hug and a lingering kiss.
    â€œI love you so much, Dr. Evans.”
    â€œAnd I love you too, Dr. Evans.”
    As she stepped toward the car, I yelled, “Don’t forget to pick up doughnuts on your way back.” She stopped and smiled over her shoulder, her medium-length hair wafting in the breeze. I would like to think her determination faltered then, albeit following such a humdrum request. Or maybe I’m merely kidding myself, to assuage the nagging thought that my final good-bye to her was so corny.
    â€œI love you,” she said back. “Give Julia a big hug for me.”
    I waved as she drove off, and that was the last I saw of her alive.
    When a burly cop with a bushy mustache knocked on the door, I hadn’t the faintest idea anything was up. His long, hard stare could have cracked mirrors, but I was oblivious at the time. I could only nod, stone-faced, while he told me how a maid had found Rachel when she went to turn down the bed.
    â€œThere must be some mistake,” I answered.
    â€œWho is it, Daddy?” Julia said from the top of the stairs.
    â€œGo back to bed, honey,” I shouted. “It’s a man who’s got the wrong house.”
    â€œI’m afraid there’s no mistake, sir. Do you have any idea why she would do such a thing?”
    â€œThere must be some mistake,” I repeated. I felt my legs buckle and the cop sounded miles away.
    â€œIn her letter she said she was ill. Were you aware of her condition, doctor?”
    â€œShe . . . she . . . couldn’t abide pain.”
    â€œWas there anything in her behavior to suggest she was thinking of suicide?”
    I remember that I fell to my knees, unable to reply. Denial, shock and a sense of failure held back the answers we both sought.
    Answers which only now, as I hugged her old sweatshirt in our kidnapped daughter’s room, did I finally understand.
    Rachel and I were unique in the world. No one else had what we had, and no one ever would. Ours was a special love, a one-off. All we had spoken about, all the wisdom we had meant to hand down together to our daughter, all the mistakes our parents had made that we would never make with Julia . . . All that had gone up in smoke. She had taken a pain-free way out, to