Chapter 3 - What Jason Saw
Dr. Bennett made Jason leave again.
This time Jason didn't argue.
He just looked at me as the door closed.
I could see the panic starting.
Not because I was hurt.
Because memory had entered the room.
Denise stayed while I called my friend Lauren.
I hadn't spoken to her much in the last six months.
Margaret disliked her.
She thought Lauren “filled my head with marriage advice.”
Lauren arrived thirty-five minutes later with no makeup and her teenage son's hoodie over pajama pants.
The first thing she said was:
“I’m not asking anything until you're ready.”
I cried.
Annoying.
Painful.
Necessary.
Jason caught us at discharge.
My wrist was braced.
I moved slowly because of the ribs.
He walked beside the wheelchair until Lauren stepped between us.
“Give her room.”
Jason stared at her.
“This is my wife.”
Lauren looked at me.
Not him.
“Emily?”
“I’m going with her.”
Jason's face fell.
“Home?”
“No.”
“Where?”
“Not home.”
“Emily.”
Dr. Bennett had warned me that pain might worsen after the adrenaline dropped.
He had not warned me how exhausting my husband's voice could suddenly become.
“Did you see your mother shove me in July?”
Jason went quiet.
Lauren looked at him.
He rubbed his forehead.
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“I saw her put her hand on you.”
“Where?”
“Your shoulder.”
“And?”
“You moved.”
“Did she push?”
His jaw tightened.
“Emily, you were both angry.”
“That is not an answer.”
“Yes.”
The word barely came out.
Lauren closed her eyes.
I felt nothing for a second.
Then too much.
“You saw her.”
“I saw contact.”
“Stop doing that.”
“I’m trying to be accurate.”
“Were you accurate when you told me she tripped?”
Jason looked away.
That answer came without words.
I stared at him.
“You lied.”
“I was trying to calm things down.”
“You made me think I imagined it.”
“No.”
“You told me the laundry basket caused it.”
“I said it might have.”
“You knew better.”
Jason stepped closer.
Lauren blocked him again.
His voice cracked.
“Mom had been there three weeks. You two were at each other's throats. She was crying. You were furious.”
“So you picked a version that made everybody easier to manage.”
“I picked a version that stopped you from throwing her out that night.”
I stared.
He realized.
Too late.
“You thought I would make her leave.”
“Yes.”
“Because she shoved me.”
“She had nowhere to go.”
I almost laughed.
That sentence.
A house for Margaret mattered more than whether Margaret had just hurt me inside mine.
Jason looked horrified by his own logic.
“That's not how I meant it.”
“How did you mean it?”
He had nothing.
Lauren touched my elbow.
“We should go.”
Jason followed us toward the ER doors.
“Emily, I know this looks—”
I stopped so fast pain tore through my side.
“Don't tell me what it looks like.”
He swallowed.
I continued.
“Tell me what happened.”
Jason stared at the floor.
“I saw Mom put both hands on you in the laundry room.”
Lauren went still.
“Both?”
Jason nodded.
“She shoved you away from the dryer.”
I could hear the machine in my head.
The metal edge.
Margaret saying she barely touched me.
Jason arriving.
No.
Jason had already been there.
“You didn't come in after.”
“No.”
“You were watching?”
“I was in the hallway.”
My stomach turned.
“You saw the whole thing.”
“Yes.”
“Then tonight, when I went down the stairs…”
He started crying.
I had seen Jason cry twice in fourteen years.
When his father died.
When we lost a pregnancy at eleven weeks.
I did not comfort him.
He said:
“I knew what she'd done before.”
The hospital doors opened behind us.
Cool night air came in.
Jason's voice dropped.
“And the first thing out of my mouth was the same thing my father used to say.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
He looked at me.
“Say you slipped.”
Lauren stopped moving.
Jason wiped his face.
“My dad said it to me when I was seventeen.”
I felt cold.
“What happened when you were seventeen?”
Jason looked back through the ER window.
May you like
Then at me.
“My mother pushed me down a set of stairs.”
