Part 1: The Girl Who Never Left His Side
“I’m sorry. I can’t.s. keep pretending anymore.”
Emma was crying so hard she could barely get the words out. We were standing by the elevators on the rehab floor, and she had both hands pressed over her face like she was trying to hold herself together from the outside.
Behind us, my son’s door was still open. I could hear the television. Nothing else.
I reached for her arm. “Emma, sweetheart, what happened?”
She stepped back. Not because she was angry with me. She looked terrified, like one more word might spill out and ruin everything.
“Let him tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
She shook her head. “He has to tell you. It can’t come from me.”
The elevator doors slid open. She stepped inside, and I stood there watching her disappear.
For two months, that girl had barely left my son’s side. Now she was walking away as if staying one more minute might destroy her.
