The door swung open, and Dr. Mercer walked back in, holding a yellow paper folder.
“We have the initial films,” he said, looking from Judith to Graham, then down to me.
“We were just discussing how slick those old steps get,” Graham said, his palms coming together again in that flat, pleading shape.
I slid my hand out from under the blue sheet and held the phone up, the screen glowing bright between us.
The text message from Graham sat there in black and white, the words clear under the fluorescent lights.
Judith squinted at the glass, her chin dropping as she tried to read the small letters. “What is that?”
“Graham sent it,” I said.
“I saw your hand on her back,” Graham said, the words spilling out of him before his mother could speak.
The room went completely quiet, the only sound the distant hum of the ice machine in the corridor.
Dr. Mercer took a step closer, his silver pen pointed toward the screen. “Is there something we need to add to the admission record, Graham?”
Graham looked at his mother, his face turning the color of skim milk.
“I wrote that message because I saw my mother push her,” Graham said.
The quiet screen remained glowing between Graham and his mother as Dr. Mercer watched.
Dr. Mercer set the clipboard on the rolling table and cleared his throat. He dismissed Judith and Graham to the waiting room with a single, sharp nod of his head.
The door clicked shut behind them, leaving the small room suddenly quiet.
I tried to shift my weight on the thin mattress, but a hot spike of pain flared in my chest.
“Do not try to sit up just yet,” Dr. Mercer said, adjusting the plastic tubing near my shoulder.
He clipped a black-and-white image of my chest scan to the light board on the wall.
“The radiologist confirmed the details of the scan,” he said, pointing to the dark shadows along my left side with his silver pen.
“Three fractured ribs, and a bruised lower lobe on your left lung,” he said.
The numbers felt heavy, like physical objects landing on my chest.
“We will need to monitor your oxygen levels through the night,” Dr. Mercer said, his voice slow and deliberate.
