The turning point
Smith hadn't responded to any of the conversations I tried to start on the quiet drive to the hospital. I decided to attempt a different strategy ten minutes before we got there.
For the first time, I apologized for having to leave.
He had answered each of my inquiries in a single sentence. I think he was about to blow up and tell me to stop talking. I was taken aback when he said, "Don't worry about it," and kept quiet after that.
I zipped my lips shut and turned my attention to the outside as I felt like a bothersome passenger. Unfocused, I looked at the street. I focused on a group of young people having fun and running around in the park. Children's laughter filled the room with a lovely sound. I basked in it, remembering a day in the distant past when I too felt that joy. Before everything fell apart on me, that was.
I was brought back to reality by the sound of brakes on an automobile.