Chapter 5: What Dr. Ellison Understood
The letter took Garrett twenty minutes to write by hand.
He insisted on writing it himself.
His grip was unsteady and the lines ran slightly downhill across the page, but the words were precise: a formal request for complete medical records, addressed to the clinic administrator, signed and dated.
He folded it himself and handed it to me without a word.
I drove to the clinic the next morning during the window when Douglas typically took his calls in the study.
I told Gertrude I needed to pick up a prescription refill.
She didn't look up from her phone.
The clinic administrator was a woman named Sandra, somewhere in her fifties, with reading glasses on a chain and the practiced patience of someone who had dealt with difficult families before.
She took the letter, read it, and looked at me over her glasses.
"You're the caregiver?"
"Yes.
Mr.
Corbin asked me to deliver this personally."
"He couldn't call?"
"His calls are managed by his brother at home.
He felt a written request was more reliable."
Sandra looked at the letter again.
Something shifted in her expression — small, careful.
"I'll process this today," she said.
"The records will go directly to Mr.
Corbin.
Not to a representative."
"That's what he's asking for."
She nodded once.
"Tell him it'll be three to five business days."
I thanked her and left.
When I got back to the house, Douglas was in the front hall.
"Prescription sorted?" he asked.
"All done," I said.
He held my gaze for just a beat too long.
"Gertrude said you took the car."
"I did.
I hope that's all right.
I wasn't sure about the bus routes yet."
"Of course." He smiled.
"Just let one of us know next time.
In case we need it."
I said I would and went upstairs.
That evening, Evelyn knocked on my door.
She stood in the hallway with her hands folded, looking at the floor, then at me.
"May I come in?"
I stepped back to let her through.
She sat in the chair by the window and was quiet for a moment.
"I heard you went out today," she said.
"A quick errand."
"Douglas mentioned it at dinner." She paused.
"He mentions most things."
I waited.
"I want to ask you something," she said.
"And I need you to answer me honestly, not the way you'd answer Douglas."
"All right."
"Is my son getting better?"
The question sat between us.
I thought about what Garrett had asked me — to say nothing, to stay neutral, to give no one a reason to look at me twice.
Then I looked at Evelyn's hands, folded tight in her lap.
The knuckles were white.
"I think he has more strength than the current reports suggest," I said carefully.
Her eyes filled.
She didn't say anything for a long moment.
"They told me the damage was permanent," she said.
"Dr.
Ellison told me that in this very city, in a room with Douglas sitting right beside me." She pressed her lips together.
"I believed them.
I had no reason not to."
"Evelyn—"
"He's my son." Her voice cracked on the last word.
"He is my firstborn and I sat in that room and I believed them."
I crossed the room and sat across from her.
"He's working on it," I said quietly.
"He hasn't given up."
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
"What are they doing to him?" she whispered.
Before I could answer, footsteps moved past the door.
Both of us went still.
The footsteps slowed — paused — then continued down the hall.
Evelyn looked at the door.
Then at me.
"Be careful," she said.
Very quietly.
"Douglas watches everything."
May you like
She stood, smoothed her skirt, and left without another word.
I locked my door and sat in the dark for a long time.
