When I got there it was clear that it was bad. Ambulance. Two squad cars. Flashing lights. Serious faces. A large square cop confronted me, jaw set. He needed a shave.
Can I help you, sir? he asked, with an unhelpful air.
This is my house, I said. What’s going on? Is somebody hurt?
His look relaxed to one of pity and concern.
I’m afraid there’s been an incident, sir, he said.
Incident? What the hell did that mean? My first thought was of Kelly. Was she all right? But she had called me. She hadn’t sounded hurt. Just frightened.
Strange that the obvious thought did not strike me first. That something had happened to Melissa. I can’t explain it, even now.
The square-faced cop escorted me into my own living room. The room was filled with people. People in white, people in blue. People snapping cameras. People taking notes. And there, in the middle of it all, on the couch, Melissa. The same pose as that morning.
Oh God, she’d been gone the whole time. Or going, which was worse.
I’d blithely walked on by, slammed the door, lost in anger and embarrassment. While she lay dying. Right then. Right there. And I had known. Somehow, I had known. God, I had known. And I’d done nothing.
A stabbing pain started in my stomach, shot through my spine, into my teeth and jaw. A disabling pain. I fell to my knees. Nothing made sense. I knew the pain wasn’t physical. It was the pain of loss. Blame. Confusion. Thoughts and fears rampant in my head.
I could feel the people around me, shifting uncomfortably. I had trouble breathing. The pain was in my lungs, my throat. I gasped the words: Melissa. What did you do?
A woman kneeled, put her arm around me. I felt her body against mine, soft beneath the lab coat. It felt good. Real. Corporeal. But not enough. Nothing would be enough. My breathing slowed. The pain began to ebb. But not completely.
I knew that it was there to stay.
The guilt made way for anger. What did you do? What did you do to me? What did you do to Kelly? My God, Kelly! Where was she? I stood up. Where’s my daughter? Before the words were formed I saw her, head in hands, in the armchair across the room. I went to her, leaned over, kissed her forehead. She looked up. Her eyes were red. Her face was swollen, yellow.
The pain came back in force.
To see my angel child in such a state.