Chapter 1 - The Fracture That Wasn’t New
The casserole dish left my hands before I understood Margaret had touched me.
One second I was walking toward the basement stairs.
The next, both of her palms hit between my shoulder blades.
Hard.
“Maybe now you’ll stop turning my son against me!”
My foot missed the first step.
The ceramic dish shattered somewhere below me.
Then I was falling.
Shoulder.
Hip.
Wall.
Something struck the side of my head, and after that the staircase stopped arriving in pieces I could count.
When I opened my eyes, Jason was above me.
“Emily?”
I couldn't breathe correctly.
My left wrist was trapped beneath me.
Margaret stood at the top of the stairs.
She looked furious.
Not frightened.
That came later.
Jason looked at me, then up at his mother.
For one strange second, I thought he was going to yell at her.
Instead he said:
“Emily, please—say you slipped.”
I stared at him.
I remember that more clearly than the ambulance.
More clearly than Margaret suddenly crying.
More clearly than Jason telling the paramedic I had “lost my footing carrying dinner.”
At the ER, I stopped correcting people.
It hurt to breathe.
My wrist had swollen.
My hip felt as if someone had driven a nail into it.
Jason sat beside the bed and kept touching my blanket instead of me.
“Mom didn't mean for you to fall.”
I looked at him.
“She pushed me.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
His eyes moved toward the curtain.
“Keep your voice down.”
I almost laughed.
“Why?”
“Because once you start saying things a certain way, people hear something different.”
“She pushed me down the stairs.”
“I’m saying she was angry. She touched you. You lost balance.”
“Why are you rewriting this?”
“I’m trying to stop this family from becoming something it doesn't need to become.”
Dr. Bennett walked back in before I answered.
He was carrying the expression doctors use when they already know they're about to ruin somebody's evening.
“Emily, your wrist is fractured.”
Jason sat forward.
“How bad?”
“It's stable. Orthopedics will make the final treatment plan.”
He turned toward me.
“You also have two fractured ribs.”
I closed my eyes.
Jason said:
“She fell down a full flight.”
Dr. Bennett looked at him.
“I know.”
Something about his voice changed.
He moved to the workstation and pulled up my scans again.
Jason leaned toward me.
“We'll handle this inside the family.”
Dr. Bennett turned.
“This is not a misunderstanding. Wait outside.”
Jason blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“I need to speak with my patient privately.”
“I’m her husband.”
“Yes.”
Jason looked at me.
I didn't rescue him.
He stood.
“Emily?”
“Go.”
His face tightened.
Then he walked out.
Dr. Bennett waited until the door shut.
Jason remained visible through the narrow window.
The doctor pulled a chair closer to my bed.
“I’m going to ask you some direct questions.”
I nodded.
“Did someone push you today?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“My mother-in-law.”
“Did your husband see it?”
“No.”
I stopped.
“He saw what happened right after.”
Dr. Bennett nodded.
“Has she hurt you before?”
“No.”
The answer came automatically.
Then I thought about Thanksgiving.
Margaret shoving past me in the pantry.
My side hitting the counter.
I had called that rude.
Not violence.
Then July.
Laundry room.
Margaret angry because I had moved some of her clothes out of the dryer.
She came toward me.
I lost my balance and hit the washing machine.
Jason said his mother had tripped into me.
I looked at Dr. Bennett.
“I don't know.”
He studied my face, not accusing.
Then he turned the monitor slightly.
“Your injuries today explain some of what we're seeing.”
“Some?”
He pointed toward one area of the scan.
“I’m not going to tell you exactly when every injury happened based on one image. That's not responsible.”
I waited.
“But this rib fracture has signs of healing.”
My mouth went dry.
Jason moved outside the door window.
He could see Dr. Bennett pointing.
He couldn't hear.
I looked back at the screen.
“So?”
May you like
Dr. Bennett lowered his voice.
“It didn't happen today.”
