by Nova Rain
Wishful thinking.
Not only did I have to work at the worst possible time, but I would have to tolerate Catherine, too. For eight hours, I be treading on thin ice. Tensions would be high in the lobby and in the kitchen alike. And although I knew that she wouldn’t explode in the presence of customers, I couldn’t say the same about the times when she and I would be loading our trays. A minor spill, a bump or even a mix-up in the orders would suffice.
Amazingly, however, working with her that night disproved my fears. Catherine showed up in festive spirits and greeted everybody, including me. Of course, that was the extent of her courtesy. Unlike in the past, where she and I would gossip about customers, she stuck to business. There was no friendly banter between us whatsoever. She did glare at me once when I almost knocked the tray off her hands, but that was it. No surprises there. She might have been in a good mood, but that didn’t mean she had forgiven me.
Just after eleven, the girls of the night shift were there to relieve us. Catherine and I had gathered the trash and were taking it out to the garbage cans in the alley. Dragging one of those huge bags across the floor, I felt like my body was going to split in half. The pain in my waist was killing me as usual. Reaching the doorframe, I peeked outside. Catherine groaned, lifting her own bag up to her chest. The little light from the lamppost down the alley revealed the figure of a man approaching her from the opposite direction. It was barely enough for me to make out the Yankees logo on his cap. Hands in his coat, he strode along the alley. I didn’t pay any further attention to him. I had just another two bags to dispose of; in a matter of minutes, I would be going home. But, just as Catherine turned her back to him, the sound that filled my ears froze the blood in my veins. A metal zipper had just been drawn dawn. The stranger eased his right hand out of his pocket and lowered it. My friend had yet to clear the last of the garbage cans, when the light reflected off the shiny surface of his knife. I didn’t have any time to react. He jerked his arm back, just inches from Catherine. In a quick move, he shoved it towards her. I heard the fabric tearing open as he drove his blade into her side. She threw her head back, letting out an agonizing cry, her eyes shut.
“No!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, my eyes open wide. She reached up and gripped his wrist with shaking fingers, just before he twisted the knife in the wound. “Son of a bitch!” I cried out, bursting off towards him. The bag dropped to the wet ground with a thump, my face twisting with rage. Yet, that bastard was quick, much quicker than I expected. In an instant, he yanked the knife out of Catherine’s wound. I was at least five yards away from him, when he spun around. Immediately, he begun to run in the direction from which he had come. Catherine kneeled, gritting her teeth. She leaned back first and then lay down on the ground, her upper back splashing into a puddle of water as she did.
“Honey…” I gasped, kneeling beside her as she slid her fingers up her side. “Honey, stay with me.”
“Rosy…” Catherine whispered, blood soaking her fingers. “I’m sorry, I can’t…”
“Don’t talk,” I urged, dialing 911 on my phone.
“911, what is your emergency?”
“My friend’s been stabbed,” I blurted out. “Ritz-Carlton Hotel, Fifty, Central Park South Street. We’re in the back alley.”
I shoved my phone back into my pocket and leaned over her. By then, blood had seeped through the gaps between her fingers. The light in her eyes was flickering while she struggled to utter a word. Catherine’s lips were trembling, and her whole body was shivering.
“Shhhh…” I hissed and swallowed hard, my breath coming out faster by the second. I felt tears flooding my eyes, as I watched my poor Catherine lie helpless on the ground. With my hands on either side of her neck, I eased her head up. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” A tender whisper fled my lips. “I’m sorry for everything I put you through.”
I was dying to hear her mellow voice, just one more time. She didn’t have to forgive me. She just had to speak, even if that meant cursing at me and my selfishness. All I got from her though, was an eerie silence that turned my fear into pure horror. Catherine’s eyelids rolled shut. The sound of her breath vanished into thin air. Tears spilled from my eyes; the echoes of sirens ripped through the night. I held her body tight, pressing my forehead into hers. A powerful gust of wind blew right in my face, chilling my skin, just like the dreadful feeling of helplessness had frozen my heart. As the ambulance lights closed in on us, I hoped that Catherine hadn’t drawn her last breath.
Chapter Sixteen
Rosanna
Sitting in the corner of the ambulance, I kept my silence as the vehicle hurtled through the busy streets of Manhattan. Honking every now and then, the driver tried to clear a path to Metropolitan Hospital.
For some reason I couldn’t explain, my mind didn’t linger on the scene of Catherine’s stabbing. It roamed back in time, to our meeting in “Delilah’s” café. Perhaps I needed to recall her smiling face. Maybe this was my defense against this horrific blow. I couldn’t tell, but I did find shelter in that memory. A big portion of it was happy, because Catherine had just met a kind doctor. He bought her coffee and agreed to take her out on a date. Perhaps he was the reason behind her good mood that day, but she failed to mention it, due to the bad blood between us.
Orderlies were already waiting outside the building when the ambulance reached the hospital. Without wasting a second, they rushed her in. I ran behind them, until she was taken to surgery. Under the strong illumination of the waiting room, I braced myself for what could be a long wait. My initial thought was calling Rachel. She loved Catherine just as much as I did. However, calling anyone in such an emotional state sounded like a bad joke. Rachel would want details, and I was sure that at some point, I would break down in tears. So, I selected texting her instead.
“Catherine got stabbed earlier tonight. We’re in Metropolitan Hospital. Don’t call me. I’m too upset to talk about it.”
Seconds after I had hit “send,” my phone buzzed with an incoming call from her. Frustration came back with a vengeance. How else should I have put it? I meant to ignore the call, but I could understand Rachel’s desire to learn more about this. I swiped my finger over the screen and lifted the phone to my ear.
“This isn’t a joke, Rach. Get over here ASAP.”
That was all I had to say to her. Without a doubt, she would be mad at me for keeping her in the dark, but Rachel’s anger was the least of my concerns. Our friend was fighting for her life. I’d fill her in when she got here.
Half an hour later, I was feeling calmer. Still, the image that came back to my mind made me wish I had never left that emotional hell. It was none other than the moment of Catherine’s stabbing. What had she done? Was it that serious that someone would want her dead for it? No. This didn’t sound like Catherine. She was a simple girl. She didn’t like drama or intrigue for that matter. Of all three of us, she was the only one who had never reconnected with old flames. She liked to repeat a lyric from one of her favorite songs, MSG’s “When I’m gone.”
“If I walk out that door,
It’s forever
There’s no turning back.”
I thought it was a bit absolute. Not all breakups were the same, but to her, a breakup meant the end of a relationship, not a pause.
Thinking about one of the times she had said that, my ears caught the sound of multiple footsteps on the floor. A man in a gray suit, accompanied by two officers in uniform were striding through the hallway. The officers stopped just outside the waiting room, whereas their superior continued towards me.
“Evening, Ms. Harrison. Detective Samuel Richards, NYPD.” He introduced himself, flashing his badge. “Can I ask you a few questions?”
“How did you find out about this?” I wondered, my voice rising up an octave. Everything had happened too fast for me to notify anyone in the hotel.
“Your supervisor saw the ambulance leave the premises and called it in. She gave me your name and
the victim’s name, too,” he responded, his tone steady. “What happened in that alley, Ms. Harrison?”
“Well, some stranger stabbed Catherine from behind,” I told him, my voice wobbly. “I tried to go after him, but I was too slow.”
“Can you describe him for me?” He requested, his hoarse voice losing its volume.
I huffed in exasperation, remembering his figure. “I’m sorry, detective. It was too dark. He was about 5’10”, 5’11” maybe. He wore a light-blue coat, jeans, and a Yankees cap. That’s all I could make out.”
“That’s a pretty generic description, ma’am,” the cop remarked, a touch of discomfort in his tone. “Ms. Harrison, your supervisor said you and the victim were pretty tight, but tonight, you two barely exchanged a word. How come?”
“We had an argument the other day,” I stated, averting my gaze from him. “We’re not on speaking terms these days.”
“And what was that argument about?” He posed one more question, cocking an eyebrow.
“A man,” my response was sharp. “Am I being accused here?”
“No, ma’am,” he assured me, his eyes locked on me. “I’m trying to establish motive here.”
“Look, Catherine and I have had our fair share of arguments, but we’ve been friends for almost twenty years. I would never do anything to harm her.” I assumed an emphatic tone, my gaze shooting up to meet his.
“Who would, Ms. Harrison?” He went on, raising his tone. “Because people don’t get stabbed over nothing. Who would want her dead? A spiteful ex?”
“I don’t have a clue,” I shrugged my shoulders. “Catherine would have told me if one of her ex’s had been harassing her. She just started dating a doctor. His name’s Marcus Tanner; he’s an orthopedic doctor here.”
“Excuse me,” a middle-aged nurse interjected, passing by the officers in uniform. “I couldn’t help but overhear. Girl, did you just say an orthopedic doctor by the name of ‘Marcus Tanner’ works here?”
“Yeah, why?”
“I’m sorry, darling, but I’ve been working here for twenty-four years, and I’ve never met anyone by that name.” The nurse’s reply baffled me. Had Catherine lied to me? Or had she been lied to? Whatever the answers to those questions were, I couldn’t question my memory. Her accident outside Delilah’s cafe with that so-called doctor was too fresh for me to have forgotten his name.
Detective Richards snorted in derision, the nurse walking away. “Why would you give me false information?”
“Arrest her or get the hell out of here,” Rachel’s voice filled the waiting room. “Let me introduce myself. Rachel Diggle, attorney at law. I represent Ms. Harrison.”
“Don’t leave town,” Richards urged with a smirk as he shuffled off back to his officers.
“Asshole…” She mumbled under her breath, looking back at him.
“Great,” I muttered, shaking my head in disappointment. “Catherine’s dating a liar. I wonder what other lies he’s been feeding her.”
Rachel drew in a sharp breath and shifted her attention to me. “How did it happen?”
“He stabbed her from behind and took off before I could get to him,” I answered, my tone low. “Did you hear what I just said about her new boyfriend?”
“Yeah.” She tipped her head down once. “Do you think he’s got something to do with this?”
“Actually, I can’t think of anything else.” I spoke, my voice but a whisper. “Rach, this is Catherine we’re talking about here. She’s got a temper, sure, but would someone try to kill her because she picked a fight with them?”
“You’re right, it doesn’t make sense,” she agreed, scratching her chin. At that point, the OR room clicked open, causing my heart to skip a beat. A young doctor emerged, his expressionless face adding to my tension.
“Rosanna Harrison?” He called out my name, his gaze sweeping the waiting room.
“Yeah, that’s me,” I said, stepping around Rachel.
“Your friend is going to be fine,” he declared, stopping just a foot from me. “She was lucky; the blade missed her kidney by a quarter of an inch. She’s asking to see you.”
“Thank you.” Rachel and I spoke in one voice as I felt a huge weight being lifted off my shoulders.
“I’ll tell her you’re here,” I smiled over at my friend and shuffled off to my right. My heart was singing. Despite her assailant’s violent blow, Catherine had survived. She had gotten a second chance, and along with her, our friendship. Its flame had been flickering for days. It wasn’t far from dying out, but now, I would do my best to rekindle it. I found my friend lying in bed in a hospital gown, and with a faint smile gracing her face.
I didn’t speak. Besides, whatever words came out of my mouth wouldn’t matter. Halting over her, I bent and hugged her, pressing my cheek into her forehead.
“I thought I’d lost you,” I whispered, feeling more tears rise in my eyes. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry for everything.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Rosy,” she disagreed, her voice drowsy. “You saved my skin tonight. I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you.”
“Now you’re talking silly,” I remarked, straightening myself up. “You must be on heavy pain meds.”
“I am, but I remember everything,” Catherine claimed, her slow blinking a telltale sign of her intoxication. “He’d have stabbed me again if you hadn’t interfered.”
“Who was that guy, Cath?” I made my voice sound sweeter, sitting beside her. “Why would anyone try to do such a horrible thing to you?”
“I don’t know,” she uttered in a soft tone. “Something good came out of this, though. I got to remember who my friends are.”
The thought of exposing her boyfriend’s lie had been tormenting me since the moment I joined her in that room. She had to find out the truth about him. Yet, Catherine had been through a huge ordeal. More than that, she was so drowsy that I doubted she would remember anything in a few hours.
“Get some sleep,” I advised her, reaching up to her cheek. I caressed her skin and rose back up. “I’ll go get Rachel. She’s right outside. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
Leaving her alone, I asked our mutual friend to keep her mouth shut about Tanner, for the same reasons I hadn’t told Catherine about him. Thankfully, Rachel agreed with me. We didn’t need to add to Catherine’s suffering. We would have a conversation about her new boyfriend very soon. For the moment, she had to rest and focus on healing. Once she was feeling better, we would all try to solve the puzzle of this mystery man who had just come into her life.
Chapter Seventeen
Chris
“Ritz-Carlton Waitress Stabbing Baffles Police”
Plenty of online media used the same headline for what transpired at Rosanna’s workplace, with very few variations. I was shocked to discover that the victim of this cowardly act was in fact the girl I had shot down. All the same, my next thought pushed away that feeling. Catherine was Rosanna’s friend. She needed my support, and I hadn’t been able to give it to her.
At first, I considered calling her and asking her out. She would find it easier to confide in me, without having to worry about work. Still, I rejected that notion. She had come very close to losing one of her most favorite people on this earth. Poor Rosanna had to have been terrified. Waiting until she got off from work was not an option. I wanted to be there for her. She had to know that she wasn’t alone in this. So, I decided to pay her a visit at the hotel.
I didn’t have any illusions. My girlfriend would be swamped, because the Ritz-Carlton was one of the busiest hotels in downtown Manhattan. The chances of our meeting lasting more than two or three minutes were slim. Despite that, I didn’t mind. I believed that expressing my feelings was crucial in a relationship. I didn’t like hiding, especially from the girl I had tried so hard to date.
I went to a nearby flower shop and bought a bouquet of white lilies and a basket of roses. I wouldn’t visit her empty-handed. On my way out
of the shop, an ugly feeling crept into me. Why didn’t Rosanna contact me the night before? She didn’t have to call me; most likely, she was too upset to do so. She just had to text me with the information of her friend’s misfortune. For all my annoyance however, I decided on a calm approach. Would I gain anything by arguing with her? The answer was simple: No. I would just ruin my own gesture. Besides, what kind of boyfriend gives his girlfriend flowers, and then has a fight with her? One had to be a complete moron to do that.
The Ritz-Carlton didn’t resemble the bustling hall I came across on the night of the fundraiser. It was more than half-full, yes, but the people at the tables were not as loud. Of the four light fixtures on the ceiling, just two were lit. The ones down the hall were off, making the tables near that side of the building seem dark. Oncoming cars were casting their shadows upon table clothes while I scanned the lobby. I noticed Rosanna heading for the kitchen to the right, in jeans and a red sweater. Understanding that her shift hadn’t started yet, I trotted off to the locker room. Just before I reached the kitchen entrance, I quickened my pace, because I meant to surprise her.
Surrounded by gray lockers, I pushed the door partway shut and turned to face it. I set the basket down on the floor and held the lilies in my grasp, staring at that gap between the wall and the door. To my satisfaction, the first person that greeted me was none other than Rosanna herself. Sadly though, she wasn’t expecting to find me in there.
“Huh!” She gasped, reaching her hand up to her chest. “Jesus, Chris! You scared the crap out of me!”
“I’m sorry,” I assumed a tender tone. “I read about what happened to Catherine. I thought you could use a friend.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Rosanna claimed, closing the gap between us. “I’ve been on edge since last night. Thank you,” she added, smelling the lilies. “You’re really sweet. Again.”
“The basket’s for your friend.” I pointed out as she took the bouquet from my grasp. She unlocked the locker on my left and placed it inside. “I’d visit her, but I don’t think she’ll be happy to see me again.”
