Twenty Four

A bullet cannot be called back

The fates will not be used

It's Alice through the looking glass

With lovers home to roost

So long as she didn't move, Andrea was all right; but with every shift of position, the pain returned. Lying back as best she could in the seat of the minivan, she waited for help to arrive. The sun streaming through the windshield kept her warm on that early April day while three large paintings lay abandoned on her cart beside the van. A parade of artists passed by on the parking lot, rolling their own dollies loaded with artwork across the rough blacktop to the Track and Field building.

Andrea had spent the morning doing last minute chores. She'd packed bags for herself and the children and delivered theirs to Gram's after lunch, staying for a short visit. Her neighbor had agreed to feed the dog and bring in the newspaper each morning, so Andrea stopped by the College Cafe' to pick up some fresh cheese danish to take over with the house key. She spent a few minutes throwing a tennis ball for Buddy in the backyard, then locked the doors. She stopped by the Texaco station to fill the gas tank and drove to Ann Arbor. Andrea arrived around three to set up the art show.

She found the show site, a large building on State Street used for university athletic events. After checking in and locating her booth space Andrea untied the display panels from the luggage rack and carted them to the building. She had delivered half the artwork to her assigned space and was back at the van for another load when it happened. When Andrea leaned in the back of the van and stretching to pull out a large painting, she felt a stabbing pain in her back that sent her reeling. She remained frozen for a time with both hands flat against the floor of the van, her mind racing.