From the Heart

but I dropped everything, called Doug and rushed home. He’d gotten there even before I had. Josh seemed fine, but both of us were panicked. We took him straight to the emergency room at the hospital. I remember sitting there while he was being X-rayed. This big room, with all these black plastic chairs, metal ashtrays, and overhead lights. The floor tile was black with white speckles in it. I counted them and Doug paced.
    “When the doctor came out, he took us both into this little room. He had a gentle voice. It terrified me. I could see it in his eyes before he said anything, but I wouldn’t believe it. It wasn’t possible.” She pressed her hand to her mouth to try to keep the sobs from breaking through. Every detail was flooding back over her, and with them, all the pain. “I didn’t believe it when he told us Josh had thrown an embolism. He was gone. Just like that.”
    Liv rocked back and forth, the photo pressed close as the sobs began to tear at her throat. “I don’t even know what happened then. I got hysterical; they sedated me. The next thing I remember clearly was being at home. Doug was devastated. We couldn’t seem to do each other any good. Instead, we lashed out. We said terrible things. He blamed me for not staying home watching our child. Caring for him. If I had been there, then maybe . . . And I clawed back. He’d bought the swing set. The damned swing set that had killed my baby.”
    “Liv.” He wanted to wipe it all out—the pain, the grief, even the memories. She had the photo pressed against her breast as if she would try to bring it to life with her own heartbeat. What comfort could he offer? Not words; there weren’t any. He could only hold her.
    She dashed at the tears in her eyes as Thorpe drew her closer. Now that it was coming out, it was far from finished.She was functioning only on emotion now, and it had to run its course. “Greg came. He was Josh’s godfather, our closest friend. God knows we needed somebody; our world had just fallen apart. He kept us from hurting each other more, but the damage was done. Josh was dead.”
    She gave a long sigh that rippled through her and had her shoulders trembling under his arm. “He was dead, and nothing could change it. There wasn’t any blame. An accident. Just an accident.”
    She was silent for a long time. He could sense she was gathering her strength to continue. He wanted the pain to stop, wanted to help her close it off in the past where it had to stay. But even before he could speak, she continued.
    “Greg took care of the arrangements—the funeral. I wasn’t coping with it well. They were giving me something; I don’t even know what it was. That first week, Doug and I were like zombies. My family came, but they didn’t know me. They hadn’t known Josh as I had. Every day I expected to walk by his room and hear him playing. I went back to work because I couldn’t bear staying in the house waiting for him to wake up.”
    The tears were flowing as she spoke. Her voice was raw with grief. Whatever Thorpe had expected to find beneath the guards, it hadn’t been this. She was blind with it now. He didn’t think she was aware of him any longer, or the arm that kept her close.
    “The marriage was over. We both knew it, but we couldn’t seem to bring ourselves to say the words. It was as if we were both thinking that if we hung on, he’d come back. We were polite to each other, tiptoeing around. I wanted someone to hold on to, someone to tell me . . . I don’t know what words I needed to hear, but he didn’t have them. I don’t suppose I had them for him. We shared the same bed and never touched each other. We lived like that for over a month. Once I—once I asked him to come into Josh’s room with me to help me—help me sort through his things. I knew I couldn’t do it alone, and that it had to be done. He left the house, and didn’t come back all night. He couldn’t face it, and I couldn’t face it alone. I had to call Greg, and we . . .” She pressed the heelof her hand to her forehead and tried not to choke over the words. “Doug and I never spoke of it again.
    “Then Melinda came, my sister. She’d been fond of Josh. She used to send him useless, expensive little toys. Her being there seemed to help for a while. She was a distraction. She made us get out of the house, forced us to entertain her and keep our minds off . . . everything. I think it helped me, because I began to