Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“How was the meeting with the attorney?”
“Fine. I’m being deposed tomorrow, so I won’t be at the hospital until dinner time.”
“It must be scary being sued.”
“I’ll let you know.”
“Does the lawyer think the hospital did anything wrong?”
“He doesn’t seem to give a shit. His focus is on making the woman look like a liar.”
“That’s horrible.”
“Yeah. The guy’s a dirtbag. I think he was getting off on the fact that they suspect the woman was giving the driver a jobby while he was driving.”
“A jobby?”
“Sucking him off.”
“Oh. Wow. That sounds dangerous. Is that what caused the accident?”
“I don’t know. But it has nothing to do with her injuries and any possible malpractice. Yet the lawyer plans to make it that way.”
She sighed. “I’m sorry you have to go through this.”
“I’ll deal.” I swept her hair to the other side and kissed her neck. “You know what gets me through everything?”
“What?”
“Knowing I get to come home to you.”
“You’re really a sweet talker when you’re not a dirty talker, Dr. Hogue.”
I rested my chin on her shoulder and whispered in her ear, “Thank you for letting me lie here with you. It means a lot.”
“You mean a lot.”
I tightened my grip around her waist. “Get some sleep. I set my phone alarm for an hour so I’m not in here when Brendan wakes up.”
“Okay.”
“Night, luv.”
“Good night, Simon. Good luck tomorrow.”
“State your full name for the record.” It was the afternoon, and the hospital attorney’s turn to question the woman. This morning I’d been deposed, and it was rather uneventful. As much as I didn’t like Arnold Schwartz, there hadn’t been a single question that he hadn’t prepped me for last night.
“Gina Marie Delmonico.”
“Ms. Delmonico. Is it okay, if I refer to you as Gina sometimes during this afternoon’s session?”
“Sure.”
“Thank you. I have to go over some formalities before we begin. Can you please tell me your current address, how long you’ve resided there, and your date of birth?”
“910 East Elm Street, Warwick, Rhode Island. I’ve lived there for about six years. My date of birth is July 10th, 1985.”
“Great, thank you. And are you married, Gina?”
“No.”
“Were you married at the time of the visit to the Emergency Room on July 12th, 2015?”
“No, I’ve never been married.”
“Thank you, again. Do you have any children?”
“Yes. I have one daughter, Olivia.”
“And her age?”
“She just turned three last week.”
“Okay. Thank you. I’m going to begin asking you questions about the night of your visit to the Emergency Room.”
“Okay.”
“What event led you to visit the Warwick Emergency Room on the evening of July 12th, 2015?”
The small conference room we were in had nothing to look at. The tan-colored walls were barren and the conference room table was empty, except for the files in front of each attorney. I’d been watching Gina Marie Delmonico all morning, and her face hadn’t changed—until she had to answer that question. The color of her skin paled, and her eyes glassed up.
“I was in a car accident.”
“And were you the passenger or the driver of the vehicle?”
“I was the passenger.”
“And who was driving?”
“A co-worker was driving.”
“And was the driver taken to Warwick Hospital as a result of the accident, as well?”
“Yes.”
“And he didn’t make it?”
“No. He died in the accident.”
Arnold slid a box of tissues across the table. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.”
“Did you and the driver have a relationship outside of a professional one?”
Gina turned to her attorney, whose lips drew to a straight line, and he nodded his assurance. Clearly they’d discussed that this issue would likely come up. I felt bad for her—whatever their relationship was, it was obvious that the loss was difficult for her even after a few years. It felt dirty to make her talk about it when it was so irrelevant to the issue of malpractice. She swallowed and answered in a low voice. “We were dating, as well as co-workers.”
“And this co-worker, your boyfriend, was he married?”
Her eyes pointed down. “Yes.”
“Was he separated from his wife at the time of the accident?”
“No.”
“And how long were the two of you a couple?”
“I don’t know exactly. Around a year, I guess. Maybe a little less.”
“So, you had an ongoing relationship with a married man for an extended period of time prior to the accident.”
“Yes.”
“And you were aware he was married during this relationship?”
“Yes.”
“Alright. And where were you coming from on the evening of the accident?”
“We’d just had dinner at a restaurant, Carmine’s.”
“And where were you heading?”
“To my house.”
“To be clear, you and your married boyfriend were not working at the time of the accident. This was strictly an evening of a personal nature?”
“Yes.” A tear fell from Gina’s eye. She used the back of her hand to wipe it away, rather than take one of the tissues that Arnold had pushed toward her. I didn’t blame her. I wouldn’t have taken anything from the jerk, either. This entire thing was wrong, and regardless of whether she was dating a married man, Gina deserved some privacy. The least I could do was not gape at her while she cried. I folded my hands on top of the table and stared at my clasped fingers.