‘The paramedics said he had a fall; is that true?’ he pressed.
I nodded, hating myself.
‘And can you tell me how exactly he fell?’
‘He was in bed asleep but he woke up and came downstairs. We think he must have slipped…’ Hugo spoke. ‘We found him on the floor at the bottom of the stairs.’
How did he do it? I marvelled. How did he lie so easily? About something as serious as this?
Dr Sweeney narrowed his brows and nodded thoughtfully. ‘It’s just the injuries your son has aren’t consistent with a fall.’
‘Wh-what do you mean?’ Hugo choked, his face turning ashen.
‘It is the front and side of your son’s face that have been injured. Normally, when we see children who slip down the stairs, it’s the posterior of their heads that are damaged.’
‘But not always, surely,’ Hugo challenged.
‘Sometimes, we might see bruises or scratches along their back or carpet burn on their legs but Elliot doesn’t have any marks like this,’ he continued, unfazed by Hugo.
‘We don’t have carpet,’ Hugo said weakly. ‘It’s a wooden staircase; it can be slippery.’
‘Nonetheless, all his injuries are at the front of his body,’ the doctor remarked, leaving the comment dangling between us.
‘Well, he fell forward, face first…’ Hugo stuttered, ‘so t-that’s why the front of his face is damaged.’
‘And did you witness this happening?’
Hugo shot a sideways glance at me and I squeezed my eyes tightly to stop the tears from falling. I hated myself for not speaking up. Hated myself for what I was doing to my son.
‘No,’ he admitted, stubbing his toe against the rubber flooring.
The doctor pursed his lips together. ‘Okay, then… I can take you to him if you’d like to see him?’
‘Please,’ I choked, overcome by tears once more. I felt numb. I couldn’t believe that we were here. Thatwe– my perfect family, or so I had once thought – were in this situation.
We followed him down a corridor. So many right and left turns that I lost my bearings and then suddenly, we were in the intensive care unit and there was my baby looking impossibly small on this large hospital bed. He was surrounded by machines which flashed and beeped and wires trailed from his tiny body. I stumbled; my legs had turned to jelly.
Hugo reached out and held me steady. ‘You’re okay,’ he assured me. ‘I’ve got you.’
My skin crawled beneath his touch.
‘You can sit with him. I’ll update you both as soon as I have any more information on his condition,’ the doctor said, excusing himself.
‘Thank you,’ I muttered, trying to remember his name as he left the room.
‘I’m so sorry, Maya,’ Hugo said as soon as we were alone together. He reached for my hand but I snatched it away from him.
‘Don’t,’ I said. I reached out and stroked my son’s forehead. His skin, normally so perfect, was now marred with blue and black bruises but I was startled by how cool it was to the touch. I couldn’t get my head around the fact that he was in a coma when it seemed just like he was asleep. I looked at the shallow rise and fall of his chest, begging his body to keep working hard. To keep fighting, because the alternative was unbearable.
‘Please, I’m so sorry,’ Hugo begged. ‘I’ll never be able to forgive myself for what happened tonight. I never meant for this to happen. This is a wake-up call for me. I’ll get help; I’m a monster. I’m so sorry.’
‘Stop it,’ I said sharply. I didn’t want to hear his words; I had no room for them in my head. Elliot was my only focus.
I knew he was suffering, I knew he loved his son and that he was remorseful, but I had no room for his pain on top of my own. It was too little, too late. Why had it taken our son to be in intensive care for him to wake up and realise what he had? How long had I waited for him to see me? And now that he had, I no longer wanted him anywhere near me. I had tried and tried to save my marriage. I had gone to counselling. I had sacrificed my mental health and happiness for so long but as much as I had lost myself, tonight, I could lose something even greater.
54
LIV
