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Back We're All in This Together
Chapters (46)
  1. Cover
  2. Other Titles
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. Friday
  7. ONE
  8. TWO
  9. THREE
  10. FOUR
  11. Saturday
  12. FIVE
  13. SIX
  14. SEVEN
  15. EIGHT
  16. NINE
  17. TEN
  18. Sunday
  19. ELEVEN
  20. TWELVE
  21. THIRTEEN
  22. FOURTEEN
  23. FIFTEEN
  24. SIXTEEN
  25. SEVENTEEN
  26. EIGHTEEN
  27. NINETEEN
  28. TWENTY
  29. TWENTY-ONE
  30. TWENTY-TWO
  31. TWENTY-THREE
  32. TWENTY-FOUR
  33. TWENTY-FIVE
  34. Monday
  35. TWENTY-SIX
  36. TWENTY-SEVEN
  37. TWENTY-EIGHT
  38. TWENTY-NINE
  39. THIRTY
  40. THIRTY-ONE
  41. THIRTY-TWO
  42. THIRTY-THREE
  43. THIRTY-FOUR
  44. THIRTY-FIVE
  45. EPILOGUE
  46. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

After London leaves, Kate searches through her suitcase for clues to why she might have been in the hospital – although her body is already giving her clues of its own. She feels sore in places that she didn’t even know could be sore, and the pain is getting worse. She finds a bottle of prescription painkillers, prescribed to Katherine Parker on July 20, 2012, by some doctor named Liston at the Thunder Bay General Hospital. July 20. Kate has no idea what the date is today, so she reaches into her pocket in search of receipts, finally finding one from the gas station in Grand Marais. July 22. She was in the hospital two days ago. No wonder she is still in pain.

She takes two of the painkillers, then she turns on the television. It takes her a few minutes to figure out how to change the channel, but she is sure this is normal. All old people have trouble using remote controls. She looks at the clock, determined to keep track of how long London has been gone. It’s seven. Have they had dinner yet? She doesn’t feel hungry, so perhaps they stopped somewhere when they arrived in Duluth. This reminds her of the sandwich that is still in her purse. The purple goo is oily and smells strongly of something that she can’t quite put her finger on, but she can smell it on her breath, too. She flushes the remnants of the sandwich down the toilet and wipes down the things in her purse as best she can. By the time she’s finished she’s nauseated from the smell, but the painkillers have kicked in so at least she’s not hurting like she was before. She checks the clock again: 7:23. She thinks about calling Nicki, but something holds her back – no, she needs to see this journey through.

She lies back on the bed and flicks through the channels. She can’t seem to find anything except for local news. They even get the feed from the local station in Thunder Bay. “The worst local television news of all time,” she can remember her other daughter saying once. Kate has a vague notion that the other one is back in Thunder Bay, too – she can’t picture her, but she can hear her voice. Did she come back because of something to do with her hospital stay? It seems rather arrogant to think so.