All We Had to Keep Us Safe

I woke up on the floor. The back of my head was throbbing. My arm hurt so bad I almost threw up. I started crying, but it was only a natural reaction to the pain. My heart wasn’t in it. I was too numb to feel sad or scared.

Mark must have knocked me out, or maybe my head had hit the wall when I smashed into it. I didn’t remember much after my arm broke and I fell into the wall. Oh, and I knew my arm was broken. Maybe it was just a fracture, but there was no way it could be completely intact.

He must have gone to work. I didn’t know where my daughter was. Very carefully, I turned over to look at the door. It was closed. I turned again to look at the digital clock on my dresser. It was only nine. I hadn’t been out for too long.

I knew I couldn’t drive myself to the hospital in this amount of pain. I didn’t want to wait for Mark to get home. He wouldn’t take me. Mark and I had no family, no friends. I had no one else to call, I convinced myself. I had to call Bob.

Maybe he would be furious. Maybe he would yell at me and tell me he told me so. Maybe he’d scream at me as badly as Mark had. It didn’t matter. I had to try, and I knew he was my only option. So I reluctantly took my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed his number.

He answered very quickly. “Jade,” he said.

“Please, you have to help me,” I whimpered.

“What’s wrong?” he asked urgently.

“I need you to come over.”

He started spitting out questions as if they tasted bad. “What can I do? What happened? Are you okay? Should I bring you anything?”

“Just come over,” I pleaded. “I need your help. You said you’d be there for me if I needed you. I’m sorry. I need you. I need you to take me to the hospital.”

“Okay, I’m on my way,” he assured me. “Talk to me while I drive. Is your husband home?”

“I don’t think so,” I said softly. “I think he went to work.”

“Why do you need to go to the hospital?” he demanded, sounding more concerned than ever.

“I broke my arm. I hit my head. I got knocked out. I just woke up,” I explained tearfully.

“How did it happen.” He said it was a statement. I think he already knew. He expected my answer, and that almost made me angry. Almost.

“He pushed me, okay?” I sobbed. “You were right. Are you happy now?”

“Happy.” He echoed, appalled. “You think I’m happy? Why would I be happy that you’re getting hurt? Do you even hear yourself?”

“Whatever,” I retorted. “I don’t want to argue with you. I just need you to take me to the hospital.”

“When did it start?” he inquired, desperately squeezing answers out of me.

“The last day I saw you. He hit me that morning, after you dropped me off at home,” I told him. I was neck deep in trouble now. Why keep anything else from him?

“Your lip,” he muttered to himself. I heard him slam his hand on his steering wheel. “I should’ve known!” he exclaimed. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it!”

“Of course you didn’t,” I whispered. “I told you he didn’t hit me. I lied, and you believed me.”

“You lied to me,” he murmured, seeming to find it incomprehensible.

“I’m sorry,” I told him. “I had to. To protect my family,” I explained.

He was angry. Very angry. I heard it in his cutting words. “Protect your family? What are you talking about? Why did he hit you?”

“Because of you,” I retorted. “He hates you. He thinks… He thinks there’s something between us. He won’t listen to me. So I had to choose between you and him. I chose him. Everything was fine until this morning. Then Chloe gave him the cold shoulder an asked me about you. So he yelled at me, took me to our room, and pushed me into the wall. I don’t remember anything after that.”

“Where is Chloe now?” he asked, new concern in his voice.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t hear her.”

“Can you get up?” he asked.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to without pain, but I had a sudden urge to find my daughter. I needed to know where she was. “I am right now,” I said, determined.

Clenching my teeth so I wouldn’t gasp, I got up and walked out of my bedroom. The ache on my head was subsiding, but the bone in my arm was protesting even more now. I looked in her room first. There she was, lying in her bed, eyes closed. However, her breaths were not even.

“I think she’s sleeping,” I told him.

Bob didn’t reply, but Chloe opened her eyes. “I’m not sleeping,” she said. “Daddy told me to. I tried.”

I bit my lip, looking at her scared eyes. I tried to hide that my arm was hurt. “Can you keep a secret?” I asked her, not really too trusting that her answer meant much for a two year old.

She nodded.

“Bob is coming.”

For once, she didn’t look happy. “Daddy doesn’t like Bob,” she replied.

“I know, sweetie,” I crooned. “That’s why it’s a secret.”

“Why doesn’t Daddy like Bob?” she inquired, getting out of her bed.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “We’re going to go on a trip to the hospital.” It was then that I realized Bob had hung up on me. He stepped into the room himself, having let himself in.

Chloe did not jump up to greet him. She looked sad and very wary. Almost like she was scared.

“Come on,” I said weakly.

Chloe obeyed, and Bob picked her up and carried her to his car. He transferred her car seat from my car to his and then buckled her up.

I sat in the passenger’s seat. The car ride was filled with a dark, heavy silence. I leaned me head against my window and watched the landscape go by.

When we got to the hospital, we put Chloe in a child day care room. Bob and I waited in the emergency room for almost an hour before they called me in. Bob insisted on coming with me.