Chapter 4 #2
We sat there for an hour with no word on her condition, afraid to step out in case the doctor came to talk to us, and we weren’t there. Bryce and his father made no more accusations, but the weight of their words hung heavy in the air, and the atmosphere in the waiting area was tense.
The doctor finally stepped out to talk to us. He took us into a little office in the lobby. His expression was carefully schooled into a neutral one. Anxiety twisted in my gut because he looked very much like a man intent upon delivering bad news.
We introduced ourselves and he asked us to have a seat. Bryce sat on the edge of the chair, leaning forward. His father sat beside him, leaving me to sit in a nearby chair. We were all eager to hear what he had to say.
The doctor moderated his voice. “I’m sorry to say that after taking extraordinary measures to save her, Mrs. Sterling died a few minutes ago.”
I started silently crying. Bryce looked like he was about to leap off the settee and strangle the doctor. But Richard held himself together. “What the hell happened?”
The doctor replied, “Your wife had a catastrophic brain aneurysm. It ruptured, causing a large hemorrhage.”
The doctor explained in some detail about the location of the hemorrhage being near a critically important area of her brain.
I kind of zoned out as he continued to talk.
I couldn’t believe Eleanor was gone. It seemed too soon and a harsh way to go.
I realized I was still crying when tears dropped onto my folded hands.
The doctor reached over and grabbed a box of tissues, holding them out to me without a break in the conversation.
I grabbed a fistful and tried to dry my face.
I just wanted to go home so I could ugly cry in private.
I picked back up with the conversation when the doctor said, “Nothing could have predicted this. I looked through your wife’s record and there was nothing that could have warned us of a possible brain aneurysm.
This is the kind of medical event that’s a silent killer because it happens so fast. Mrs. Sterling would likely have died even if she was in the hospital at the time. ”
“I see,” Richard said with a grimace.
I asked, “Would it be possible to see her one last time?”
The doctor nodded, “Of course. A lot of people need the closure of seeing their loved one before making their final arrangements. I’ll let the nurses know to expect you. Just buzz the door leading into the trauma bays.”
After the doctor left, I came to my feet. “I suppose we should head back before they—”
Richard jumped up, pointing his finger in my face, “You’re not going anywhere. You stay here, while Bryce and I say our goodbyes.”
My mouth fell open as Bryce got up and followed his father back to the trauma bay.
***
The ride back from the hospital was somber. The minute we were inside his parents’ house, Bryce headed for the minibar in the living room and poured himself a drink. I don’t know why I was surprised. Drinking was both his super skill and his coping mechanism.
I went to check on the girls and relieved the nurse.
The girls were still sleeping soundly. I encouraged the nurse to leave through the back door, so she didn’t have to pass Bryce’s field of vision.
I grabbed a shower and changed clothes, giving Bryce some time to drink himself into a stupor before I tried to put him to bed.
Unfortunately, when I went down, Bryce was in an alcohol-fueled rant.
“I’m not taking the blame for this. You were there, I wasn’t.”
“There is no blame,” I reminded him. “Remember the doctor said so.”
“Tell that to my father,” he shot back sharply.
I told him gently, “It’s normal to be angry when someone you love dies, but you need to stop trying to look for someone to blame. You have to know that no one in this house would do anything to intentionally harm her. Everyone loves her… loved her.”
I thought it was a fairly benign comment, but he stunned me with a slap across the face, fast and hard, leaving behind only stinging flesh. My face burned with shame that this is what our relationship had come to. I didn’t cry because I was all cried out. I just stood there, staring at him.
“Don’t presume to tell me what I need to do.” He brought his bourbon glass up with a shaky hand and took a drink before telling me, “Get the hell out of my sight.”
I turned with as much dignity as I could muster under the circumstances and walked back up the steps.
Instead of going to our room, I walked into the girls’ room and quietly shut the door behind me.
With my back pressed against the door, I gazed at our little ones sleeping soundly in their beds.
They were the sweet, innocent bystanders in this slowly disintegrating marriage.
My cheek still burned. Bryce clearly didn’t understand his own strength.
He’d been verbally abusive for years, if I was being honest with myself.
But in all the time we’d been together, he’d never hit me, not once.
He crossed that line tonight. Granted, it was under extraordinary circumstances, but it was a line I thought he’d never cross.
He’d left me only two choices. I could insist he seek treatment for both his alcohol and anger management problems, or I could take the girls and file for divorce.
Those were the only two options that made sense.
The one thing I could no longer do was act like things weren’t escalating with Bryce.
Now that the line was crossed into physical abuse, I had to act.