The Way We Feel

Chapter 5

"And the whiplash?" I added, still not-so-subtly fuming.

Emily's head cocked to the side. "I mean, whiplash is sort of a given in a car accident."

I'd let out a deep breath through my nose.

"What happened?" I'd asked when I had reached a point where I couldn't hold back any longer.

Mom had rolled her eyes—mostly at herself—and glanced at Harry sitting just beside me before meeting my gaze again. "It was silly," she said matter-of-factly. "A stupid mistake. I wasn't paying enough attention, but it's all fine now."

I'd looked at Emily helplessly once Mom had gripped my hand, effectively ending the conversation.

Emily had blown out a breath before saying, "She was hit head on. The guy a lane over drifted into hers—he was texting. Luckily, neither of them were going too fast, otherwise it could've been much worse. But the car's totaled anyway, so I'm not sure—"

"Totaled?!" I screeched, looking from her to Mom with wide eyes. A million things raced through my mind—how could she have taken this on herself? Why didn't she blame the guy? What was wrong with him? Shouldn't he know not to text and drive like the rest of the world? I wanted to ask all of that and more, but Harry's hand clamped down on my shoulder. A comfort as much as it was a support. A reminder that everything was okay.

I hadn't seen the car in the driveway when we'd arrived, but somehow it hadn't occurred to me to ask how bad the damage was.

Mom's hand gripped my knee as she said, "It's fine. I'm fine."

"Your leg is broken!" I exclaimed. "In two places!"

The tibia and fibula of her right leg had fractured. Not badly enough for surgery, which had been a blessing, but still.

"It was jammed between the dash and her seat," Emily said, totally deadpan. The doctor in her didn't seem to see the horror in that, but I winced.

Mom had only squeezed my hand harder. "I'm fine now. That's what matters. So, tell me about your trip."

Since then, I'd been here every day. And Mom was still incredibly offhand about the fact that she was walking around with crutches—as if nothing at all was different and there was no reason for me to be so concerned.

Even now, with her leg propped up on the table before her, she sipped her coffee and stared at the television with an almost bored expression on her face. Her mouth widened into a smile as I studied her.

"This Judge Judy really has a huge pair of—stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?" I asked, aiming for nonchalance as I settled back into the couch and fixed my gaze on the TV—seeing nothing at all.

It switched off before I could really focus on Judge Judy's face. All I could see on the screen now was myself reflected back. And Mom staring at me.

"Alright," she said, setting the remote down between us. "Let's get this out."

"Get what out?" I asked, hiking my legs up onto the coffee table beside hers. I glanced at the crutches propped up on the couch beside her rather than look into her eyes.

Mom almost laughed. "Madelyn... you returned from your honeymoon not a week ago, and you've spent every day here with me instead of with your husband."

I looked at her, feeling sheepish and strange. It felt like something was clawing at that pit that had yawned open last week—something that was trying to climb up my throat, to my mouth, past my lips...