Broken

We decided we’d all take a week off between Thanksgiving and Christmas. We’d all travel to the couple’s country home in Maine where Carman would do the operation and have time to observe Susan’s recovery for a couple of days, making sure she healed properly. As a bonus our two new doctor friends would balance our testosterone and other values, and give us the same regiment of supplements and herbs that they used to appear so youthful.

We were very excited about Susan’s operation and it would be the much-needed long-delayed vacation we’d planned for the past few years. We met at least once a week during the following month for dinner or a night out, or simply to discuss and plan the upcoming trip. Our friendship grew as well.

Finally the big day arrived. We caught a plane ride to Maine and were met at the airport by the couple’s driver Darius, who looked like a mountain. He was even larger than Raul, maybe six-six and close to three hundred pounds. His dark almost flat face gleamed like a piece of coal, and when he spoke, which was rarely, he did so politely in a deep soft voice, with a heavy accent.