Between Love and Lies

Misery

The attorney was forty minutes late, forty minutes of Sharon staring at her blood-crusted hands while Valerie paced in front of the vending machines. Forty minutes of Detective Morgan walking past every ten minutes, looking, not speaking. Forty minutes of nurses wheeling other people’s emergencies through the double doors while Michael stayed behind them, silent.

When the Reception doors finally hissed open again, Sharon thought it was Uncle Dan. It wasn’t.

He was taller than she remembered. Broader in the shoulders. There was gray at his temples now, and a scar along his jaw that hadn’t been there eight years ago.

But the eyes were the same, dark, steady, the kind that used to read her before she spoke.

“Sharon?”

Her name in his mouth hit harder than the detectives’ questions. She stood up so fast the plastic chair scraped the floor.

“James.”

Valerie stopped pacing. “You know him?”

James Maxwell didn’t look at Valerie. He was still looking at Sharon, at the dried blood on her arms, at the hospital band on her wrist that said she’d refused treatment. His jaw tightened. “The desk said Sharon Reeves came in with a stabbing victim. I thought… I hoped it wasn’t you.”

Detective Morgan was back. Of course he was. He clocked the look between Sharon and James in one second. “Sir, this is a police matter. Are you family?”

“No,” James said, but he didn’t move. “I’m Dr. James Maxwell. I was on call when the chart came up. Michael Reeves.”

His eyes flicked to Sharon.

“Your husband?”

The word 'husband' sounded different in his mouth. Like an accusation or a wound.

Sharon couldn’t speak. Eight years ago she left James with a note and a ring on the kitchen counter because Michael had promised God, and church, and forever. Michael had also promised he’d never raise his hand to her.

“I need to see him,” James said, not to Sharon but to Morgan.

“Are you okay Sharon?' he asked curiously

“I’m fine,” she lied. Her voice was raw.

“I’m fine, James.”

“You’re not,” he said, simple and certain, like he was diagnosing her. Like he used to.

“Your hands are shaking, it seems you are going into shock.”

“She’s not your patient,” Valerie cut in, She stepped between them

“And she’s not answering questions until our lawyer gets here.”

James held his hands up

“I’m not here as a cop, Valerie. I’m here as…” He stopped.

"As what?

“As someone who gives a damn,” he said quietly.

Then Uncle Dan finally burst through the ER doors, briefcase in hand, suit rumpled like he’d slept in it. “Where’s my client?” he boomed, and the spell broke.

James nodded once. He turned to leave, but at the door he stopped. Didn’t look back.

“I’m at the hospital for the next 12 hours. If you need… if anyone needs anything. Page me.”

The doors hissed shut behind him.

Sharon sat back down, hard. Her legs wouldn’t hold her.

Valerie stared at her.

"Who is he?"

"My ex fiance"

"Wait... Really, so you were going to marry a doctor, seriously?"

Sharon laughed. “I was going to marry a lot of things, Val. None of them were Michael.”

Detective Morgan cleared his throat. “Mrs. Reeves. Your attorney’s here. Are you ready to talk now?”

Sharon looked at the double doors James had walked through. Then at Uncle Dan, who was already opening his briefcase. Then down at her hands.

The blood was still there.

Dan took one look at Sharon’s hands, at the way Valerie was standing guard, at Detective Morgan waiting ten feet away, and went into lawyer mode.

“I need a private room for my client. Now.”

A nurse led them to a small family consultation room. Bare walls, two chairs, a box of tissues. The door clicked shut.

Sharon talked. It came out in pieces at first , the saw, the grabbing, the words “Let go of me, Michael” then all at once. The bruises she hid, the night she didn’t sleep and the way he’d come home tonight. She didn’t cry. She just told it, flat and factual, like she was reading someone else’s police report.

Dan listened, he didn't interrupt. When she finished, he leaned forward and put his hands flat on the table.

“Sharon,” he said, voice low and careful,

“if what you’re telling me is true, and I believe it is, you have nothing to worry about, self-defense is a complete defense.” He paused.

“Only if Michael survives.”

“Excuse me?” Valerie’s voice was sharp.

“If he dies,” Dan said, still looking only at Sharon, “the charge changes. The evidence changes, the way a jury hears this story changes.

So right now, our whole case is behind those double doors, in a surgeon’s hands.”

No one said anything after that.

A few moments later, Sharon and Valerie were back in the waiting ward. The plastic chairs felt harder now.

Nurses kept moving to and fro, rubber soles squeaking against linoleum. In and out of the surgical wing. Then another nurse, running.

No one looked at Sharon. No one would meet her eyes.

Valerie reached over and took Sharon’s hand. Didn’t care about the dried blood.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Breathe. One thing at a time, remember?”

Sharon nodded, but she wasn’t breathing right. The air in the waiting room felt thin, like the hospital had used it all up.

The double doors swung open, Dr. Patel walked out.

He didn’t have his mask on anymore. His surgical cap was damp with sweat. He looked around the waiting room, past the woman with the toddler, past the old man coughing into his sleeve.

His eyes found Sharon.

And he stopped walking.

For three seconds, the entire ER went quiet.

Dr. Patel’s mouth opened. He took one step toward them.

Then the doors behind him burst open again and two more nurses ran out, shouting for another doctor, and Dr. Patel turned back, and he was gone.

The doors hissed shut, Sharon stood up immediately

“Sharon?” Valerie was on her feet too, holding her elbow. “Sharon, sit down”

But Sharon was looking at the doors. At the place where Dr. Patel had stopped.

She thought of James, she thought of Michael, she thought of Dan’s words “Only if Michael survives.”

The clock above reception said 12:04 a.m.

Detective Morgan was standing now too. So was Officer Reyes.

No one was saying the word. No one had to.