Chapter 2 - Twenty-One Days of Silence
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For twenty-one agonizing days, I waited for Caleb to walk through that heavy wooden door. I spent hours staring at the entrance, my heart leaping every time footsteps echoed down the linoleum hallway.
I imagined him rushing into the room with worried eyes. I pictured him bringing a fresh change of clothes, a bouquet of cheap gas-station flowers, or even just offering one kind, comforting sentence. I created elaborate excuses for his absence in my head. He was busy working extra hours to cover the mortgage. He was completely focused on taking care of Emma. He was too traumatized by the thought of almost losing me to face the reality of the hospital ward.
I told myself everything I needed to hear to survive the crushing loneliness.
But as the days turned into weeks, the excuses began to wear dangerously thin. My phone sat completely silent on the bedside table. The nurses offered me pitying smiles whenever they asked if I was expecting any visitors today. The only bright spot in the sterile room was a drawing Emma had made, which a sympathetic social worker had taped to the wall opposite my bed.
It was drawn in bright, chaotic crayons. A stick figure with yellow hair stood next to a smaller stick figure. Above them, written in slightly crooked, bold letters, were the words: COME HOME SOON, MOMMY.
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Whenever the pain in my ribs became unbearable, or the agonizing cramps in my immobilized legs made me want to scream, I stared at that piece of paper. Emma was my anchor. She was the only reason I forced myself to swallow the bitter medication and endure the daily physical examinations.
But the silence from my husband was slowly poisoning my recovery. Eleven years of marriage, and I couldn't even get a text message asking if I had survived the night. I was beginning to realize that the crash wasn't the only tragedy in my life.
