The Crash

Chapter 30

30

I’ve got Hank’s attention now.

He turns around so slowly, it’s like watching a boulder move. The sad expression he wore a few moments ago has been replaced by a wary look in his eyes.

“You wouldn’t,” he says.

I arch an eyebrow at him. “Wouldn’t I?”

His breaths are ragged as his shoulders heave. “That wasn’t my fault.”

“Oh, and I’m sure the police will see it that way.” I fold my arms across my chest, looking up at him still halfway up the stairs. “Remember those two months you spent in prison for breaking that guy’s nose? Remember how much fun it was for you? What did you say when you got home?” He doesn’t answer, so I remind him: “You said, ‘I’d rather jump in a bathtub of battery acid than ever go back there.’”

The parts of Hank’s face I can see above his beard turn pink. “The whole thing was your idea!”

“Yes, but it’s your signature.”

“Yours too, Polly.”

“I’m aware.”

The wariness in his eyes is morphing into anger. He’s right—it was my idea. But he went along with it, and that’s all that matters.

He stomps down the stairs, his footfalls so heavy that I fear he might crack one of the steps. When he gets to the bottom, he glares at me. “What do you want?”

“I just want to let her stay here a few more days—that’s all. I want to make sure she’s okay, and then she’ll go home. I’m trying to help her to avoid the hospital.”

“A few days,” he repeats.

“Yes.”

“So two days?”

“A few means three , Hank.”

“And what if she says she wants to leave?”

“We won’t keep her against her will, of course. If she says she wants to leave, we’ll let her leave.” And to be fair, it’s not like she’s going anywhere under her own steam, although Hank doesn’t know that.

“You swear you’ll let her leave?”

“Of course. I’m not mentally ill.”

He shoots me a look. I suppose there are a few psychiatrists out there who might disagree with that statement. And several staff members who were working in the newborn nursery on that morning two years ago.

“Three days.” Hank holds up three fingers, one of which contains his gold wedding band. “Three days, and she either goes home or to the hospital. I mean it, Polly.”

“Of course.”

Except in three days, nothing will have changed. Hank still won’t want to end up in prison. Tegan will still be an irresponsible child who doesn’t deserve to raise a beautiful daughter. And I’ll still be barren.

In three days, I’ll make Hank see reason. I’m sure of it.