By the time the next update came, I had lost track of how many cups of water I had been offered.
I had accepted two.
Neither was empty.
Daniel was sitting beside me with his elbows on his knees.
He looked as though he had aged years since we left home.
I wanted to comfort him.
Then I remembered that I was also the person who had been slapped while holding our child.
I didn't want to become responsible for his feelings again.
So I sat quietly.
When Dr. Blake approached, we both stood.
He asked us to follow him into the consultation room.
This time, I noticed that Daniel waited for me to enter first.
It was a small gesture.
I wasn't ready to attach a meaning to it.
The doctor explained that Lily remained in serious condition.
The medical team was continuing to assess her injuries and monitor her response to treatment.
He spoke about the importance of careful observation and the uncertainty that remained.
I asked whether there was anything more we could do.
He told us that the most important thing was to allow the team to continue caring for her.
I nodded.
I wanted a task.
Something I could complete.
Something that would let me feel I was helping my daughter rather than sitting helplessly outside a room.
But there was no task I could perform that would undo the fall.
I could only be available when the doctors needed information.
Dr. Blake asked me to confirm the sequence of events again.
I told him what had happened in the hallway.
He asked whether Lily had lost consciousness immediately.
I explained that she had stopped crying after striking the floor and had not responded when I called her name.
He asked whether I had noticed any unusual behavior before the fall.
I said she had been crying, but I hadn't seen anything else that made me suspect an injury.
He listened carefully.
I appreciated that he did not treat my uncertainty as dishonesty.
A person could remember some details clearly and struggle with others.
I remembered the clock.
I remembered Patricia's face.
I remembered the pain in my cheek.
But the exact movement of Lily's body during the fall came back to me in broken images.
I could not describe every inch of it.
I told the doctor that.
He said it was all right to be honest about what I could and could not remember.
When the questions were finished, he explained that the team would continue updating us as Lily's condition developed.
I thanked him.
Daniel and I returned to the hallway.
He walked beside me without touching my arm.
I was grateful for that.
I didn't want to be handled as though I might break.
I was already trying to survive the worst night of my life.
As we approached the waiting area, I saw Patricia speaking with the officer.
Her posture was rigid.
The officer was listening.
When she noticed us, she stopped talking.
I didn't ask what she had said.
The officer approached me later and explained that he might need additional information as the investigation continued.
He asked me to keep my account consistent with what I remembered.
I told him I would.
He also reminded me not to speculate about Patricia's intentions.
That was easy.
I didn't know what she had intended.
I knew she had struck me.
I knew Lily had fallen.
I knew Patricia had blamed me before asking what had happened.
Those facts were enough to tell the story honestly.
I didn't need to invent a reason for her behavior.
I didn't need to make her sound worse than she had been.
The truth was already painful.
After the officer moved away, Daniel sat beside me.
"Do you think they will charge her?"
I looked at him.
"I don't know."
He nodded.
"Are you going to cooperate with them?"
"Yes."
He stared at his hands.
"I figured."
I waited.
He looked up.
"I'm not asking you to change your mind."
I believed he meant it.
But I wanted him to understand why the question mattered.
"This isn't about getting even with your mother."
"I know."
"It's about what happened. And about making sure she can't do this again."
He nodded.
I continued.
"I won't lie to protect her. I won't tell the police that she didn't hit me. I won't say I imagined it because you're uncomfortable."
His eyes filled with tears again.
"You shouldn't have to."
Those words stayed with me.
You shouldn't have to.
They were simple.
They were also the words I had needed to hear long before that night.
I thought about the times I had changed my own plans to keep Patricia happy.
The meals I had prepared because she wanted everyone at the table.
The disagreements I had swallowed.
The times I had asked Daniel to talk to her and accepted his promise without asking what he had actually said.
None of those things had caused the slap.
I wanted to be clear about that.
My attempts to keep peace did not make me responsible for Patricia's choice.
But those attempts had taught me to ignore my own discomfort until it became impossible to ignore.
I didn't want to live that way anymore.
Daniel reached for my hand.
I let him hold it for a moment.
Then I withdrew my fingers gently.
He looked at me.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"I know."
"I don't expect you to forgive me right now."
I looked toward the doors.
"Then don't ask me to."
He nodded.
We sat without speaking.
A nurse appeared and asked whether I would like to return to Lily's bedside when the team could accommodate another visit.
"Yes," I said immediately.
She told me she would let me know.
I waited.
I tried not to count the minutes.
Eventually, I was allowed to return.
This time, I walked toward Lily's bed without stopping at the doorway.
The equipment still frightened me.
The sight of her tiny body beneath the sheets still hurt.
But I was beginning to understand that I could not let my fear prevent me from being present.
I stood beside her and spoke softly.
"Hi, Lily."
I told her I was there.
I told her that Daddy was nearby.
I told her that we were waiting for her.
I didn't promise her that everything would be fine.
I didn't know that.
Instead, I told her something I could promise.
"I love you."
I stayed until the nurse explained that I needed to step away again.
Then I kissed her gently and left.
In the hallway, Daniel was waiting.
He stood when he saw me.
"Did you talk to her?"
I nodded.
"What did you say?"
I looked at him.
"That I love her."
He lowered his head.
"I should have said that more."
I thought about correcting him.
I thought about telling him that love wasn't the problem.
But I was tired.
So I said, "Say it now."
He looked toward the treatment area.
"I love you, Lily."
His voice broke on her name.
For once, he didn't look at me to see whether I approved.
He simply stood there, speaking to our daughter through the closed doors.
I listened.
Then I sat down beside him.
We still had no certainty.
But we had stopped pretending that uncertainty was a reason to hide the truth.
Click here to continue reading: PART 12: I Had Spent Years Trying to Keep Everyone Together, but as Dawn Approached, I Began to Understand What Protecting My Daughter Would Require
I Thought the Worst Part of Being a New Mother Was Losing Sleep, Until My Mother-in-Law Made One Cruel Decision for Me
Part 11 of 20
