Page 135 of Woman on the Verge

She nods. Her eyes go wide. “A big one,” she says. “It’s amazing you had such minor injuries.”

Whatever injuries I have do not feel minor.

“You broke your leg, just below the knee. A few cracked ribs. No internal bleeding, though. No head injury. We had you sedated to run a few tests. The doctors say it’s a bit of a miracle.”

“Oh” is all I can say.

“You must have someone looking out for you.” She tilts her head upward, toward the heavens, toward the angels she believes in. I remember that my dad is dead, and this fact startles me as if it’s one I’ve just learned.

I close my eyes again, see Elijah’s face right before we make impact. Pure terror.

“Is Elijah okay?”

“Hmm?”

“Elijah?”

Her brows furrow. “Sorry, love, who’s that?”

“The man who was in the car. In the passenger’s seat.”

She looks puzzled. One of the machines next to me beeps louder, probably alerting her to the sudden increase in my heart rate and blood pressure.

“You were alone, sweetie,” she says.

She is my age, so thesweetiefeels condescending.

“No, there was a man with me.”

How bad was the accident? Was he wearing his seat belt? I have horrific visions of him being ejected from the car, of his body lying on the side of the road. Who would know to look for him there? Nobody in my life knew he existed. They could have easily identified me by the car. The license plate would be attached to my dad’s name. A phone call would go to his phone. Merry would answer. They would know to look for me, but not Elijah.

Jocelyn, who is beginning to irritate me, is still looking at me like I’m nuts when Kyle walks in. He has more stubble on his face than I’veever seen on him. He is a ritualistic shaver. The facial hair suits him. Perhaps we could give our marriage one last go, with him sporting a beard. He would have to forgive me for Elijah, though. How could he ever forgive me?

“You’re awake,” Kyle says, rushing to my side. He sits on the edge of the bed next to me. Has he ever been this happy to see me before?

“Hi,” I say.

My head feels like it is full of cotton candy, a big pink puff of it.

“God, you had all of us so worried.” He takes out his phone. “I gotta text Merry.”

He types a quick message, then looks at me again, scanning my eyes with intent, like he really wants to see me. Has he ever looked at me like this before?

“I’ll give you two some time,” Jocelyn says before leaving and pulling the door shut behind her.

“We’ll have to call the girls when you’re up to it,” he says.

The girls. Who is with them if Kyle is here?

“We all flew up here. They’re with Merry,” he says, as if reading my mind. Has he ever successfully read my mind? I sure as hell have wanted him to, have considered that a mark of true love.

What if I just don’t ask about Elijah? What if I just pretend the affair never happened? Could I live with myself knowing that Elijah may be dead off the side of Highway 35? I think of how close he is with his mother, how tormented she must be not hearing from him, her mama’s boy.

“Kyle,” I say. When I swallow, it feels as if a giant navel orange is sliding down my throat, attempting to block what is coming next. “There was a man with me in the car.”

He looks at me, and I watch his face transform from confusion to tentative anger.

“What?”

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