And Tom. She felt better after seeing him. He would never accuse her of being a misrepresenter of facts. He was accepting, seemed to understand, no explanation needed, none given. None of that mattered anymore.

She stared out the window at the December sky and experienced a lightning flash of remorse about refusing to provide extra morphine to her friend, who was in so much pain. Pain that lingered as life lingered. But where on earth would Addie have put her hands on a supply? And how would she have done such a thing? No, she could not live with that.

Sybil had accepted her decision and had not mentioned the morphine again. The family knew nothing of any of this. But Sybil had turned away from them all, Addie included. She had turned toward Death. Death with a capital D.

Addie was finally able to move. But only as far as the counter to order another tea. She sat back down at the table for a while, until she could face the journey home. She wouldn’t need supper when she got there; that was certain. Food didn’t seem to matter now.

But on her way out, she ordered a ten-pack of Timbits, in case she wanted a snack along the way. She probably wouldn’t eat them at all. She’d just leave them in the car.

While the Timbits were being put into a cardboard container, Addie tried to pull herself together. She had to drive home to Wilna Creek, and then turn right around and drive back to Greenley in the morning. She would pray for more than a few hours’ sleep tonight.

She was uneasy. The past few days—and especially this morning—every time she said goodbye to Sybil, she’d felt a looming sense of dread, a foreboding, the world topped with grey.

And yet, even through the dread, when she walked out of the health centre into the winter air, she came to a full stop. She stood outside the main doors and pulled in a deep breath. For herself. A deep breath of life.

Ways of Seeing

HAZZLEY

Thursday, Hazzley stood by the kitchen window overlooking the backyard. She was surprised to see a peregrine falcon at the top of the neighbour’s tree. Still like the falcon; eye like the hawk. She waited to see what it would do. Probably keeping an eye on her. No, a falcon would be watching the bird feeder for prey. But it would be aware of her, she was certain.

She had pulled the paper in from the front step and now opened it out over the counter to scan the obituaries while she finished her coffee.

Right away, she saw the notice about a Greenley woman named Sybil who had died the previous day. A name one didn’t see much these days. She was described as a professor of nursing. Addie Levesque, beloved friend, was named in the list of mourners. The funeral was to be held at a church in Greenley on Saturday afternoon. Two days from now.