At least I won’t have to reschedule twenty appointments to be here.

Pam always said I was too grumpy, but look at me being all sunshine and rainbows now. At a funeral, no less.

Too bad she’s not here to see this. Or more accurately, she’s here but she can’t see this.

Maybe it says something about me, the fact that I can only be positive at a funeral.

Shit, Pam.

If I knew her situation earlier, I could’ve saved her. Hell, any of the incompetent interns at the hospital could’ve saved her.

We had been working together for more than ten years when she told me she wanted a check-up.

“I haven’t had it done in years,” she said, smiling sheepishly. She was fifty-four, but she looked like a shy little girl when she did that.

Having worked at the hospital for so long, Pam knew someone her age should’ve been having regular check-ups. But I also knew the hospital didn’t exactly provide excellent insurance coverage for its support staff.

Pam was just working in the kitchen, after all. She brought the patients their meals, serving them their hospital food. That didn’t exactly make her very popular with the patients.

But as bad as the food was, it was all I had when I’d just started out as an intern. I was too proud to ask for help but Pam noticed me not eating during the breaks, and she sneaked meals for me—shitty, uninspired food, of course, but beggars can’t be choosers.

If, at any point in time, Pam had asked me to give her a thorough exam, I would’ve done it in a heartbeat. Pro bono.

Instead, she had to ask me when it was already too late for me to do anything.

I remember when a nurse passed me her test result like it was just another one of the patients’. With the patients, it’s easy to remain detached. But just like a starved stray dog, I developed a bond with the hands that fed me.

As sad as it sounds, Pam was the closest thing to a mother I ever had.

And now, she’s gone.

Raindrops gently fall on the hood of my leather jacket. They sound like soft, incessant knocking. Reminds me of how Pam used to announce her arrival at my office.

As people begin to sing a hymn, I wipe the rain off my face.

I stop myself from snorting when the priest shakes a silver stick over the open grave to sprinkle holy water on the wooden coffin. With rain this heavy, does that really do anything?

It’s fitting, rain at a funeral. The soil turns muddy and sticks to the mourners’ fancy, black shoes like a reminder of their own mortality.

Death was always all around me. But it was only when I held Pam’s test result in my hands that I understood what it meant.

She seemed so small when she entered my office that day. So scared. She was trembling. She could probably sense something was wrong as soon as she saw me. She was always too fucking perceptive for my comfort.

It felt like a huge-ass metal anvil was sitting at the pit of my stomach when I told her, “Pam, I got your result. And unfortunately, I have bad news for you.”

She put her hands on the desk, her wedding band tapping on the wood. Her dark eyes filled with fear as she said, “Tell me.” Her voice was shaking.

So, I told her.

The whole time, it felt surreal. She had come to me as a perfectly healthy woman. And now, I was telling her she was dying. At the same time, she still seemed like she was the picture of good health.

I had to let someone from the oncology department treat her while I stayed in the sidelines and monitored her progress. She wouldn’t let me help her pay for the treatments so I went behind her back, talked to her primary care doctor and the billing department myself.

We beat Pam’s colon cancer—the first time. That was when I decided to quit my job at the hospital and go my own way.

Then, it came back for the second time, stronger than before. Pam’s body was weaker after the first round of treatments, too, and well, she succumbed.

Pam’s family decided not to do an autopsy, so I’ll never know if her death was directly from the cancer, from one of the complications of the treatments, or from something else entirely.

At first, I was enraged by their stupid decision. I was the one who saw Pam through the whole thing, and I felt like I had more say than these people.

But then again, what do I know about family?

Besides, it’s not as if knowing would change anything. She’s still dead. Just a corpse in a coffin, soon to be buried six feet under.

I look around as the crowd of black-clad mourners standing around the open grave sing yet another song. Pam’s sons, daughters, cousins, grandchildren, and friends.

A big family. When I got here, I got introduced to so many people and shook so many hands I don’t even remember any names. Managing all these relationships seems like a heavy load of responsibilities to me.

But then again, most people won’t understand how I could stand living alone in the mountains either.

As people bow their heads to pray, I sense something, or someone, stalking me. I’ve spent enough time in the woods to recognize it.

I look over my shoulder and find a girl heading straight at me. She stares at me as she crosses the narrow road between us, only blinking when the rain gets in her eyes.

She’s drenched. Water has saturated her hair and glued the strands to her face.

Her black coat looks waterproof, but her skinny jeans are so soaked they almost shine. They encase her legs to show off her sleek, long muscles, flared hips, and tight ass.

No umbrella or even a hoodie, and she doesn’t even care. Like an arrow shooting at a target, she’s focused on me and only me.

Except, I don’t even know her.

“Thank you for coming, Dr. Hill,” a man says as he grabs my hand and pulls me into a handshake.

I tear my gaze off the girl and give the man—Pam’s son, if I’m not mistaken—a polite smile.

“No problem at all,” I say. “I’m sorry for your loss. I wish there was more I could’ve done for Pam.”

He places his other hand on the back of mine. “You did everything you could. My mother was always telling us how much you’d helped.”

I nod at him, partly because I don’t know what else to say, and partly because I can still feel the girl’s stare on my back.

As Pam’s son moves on to greet the other mourners, I look behind me and find her standing underneath a big tree, her hands wrapped around herself as she shakes like a leaf.

It’s not that cold, but her clothes are soaked and the wind is blowing.

Two big, green eyes meet mine. Water rolls down her face. I can’t tell if they’re tears or raindrops.

Again, Pam’s relatives demand my attention, and I humor them. All the while, I can feel the girl’s eyes follow every little movement I make, distracting me from everything else that’s going on.

What the fuck is her problem?