You Are a Passerby of My Past, Here's to My Free Future

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The second year I lay paralyzed in bed, my husband Nathan Foster treated me exactly the same as always.

That day, as usual, he played me a video of our daughter making mud pies in our backyard garden. I stroked the screen where Gigi was, brushing across the air, and said offhandedly, Gigi looks like she hasn't grown at all in almost half a year.

Nathan stiffened for a second, then smiled and soothed me. "Half a year on the medication slows a child down a little. She'll catch up once she's stronger."

I never once doubted him. I only blamed myself for not protecting her after the crash.

Then, one day, the new caregiver, Ella James, let something slip. "Mrs. Foster, you have to take your medicine on time. Get your body strong and have another baby, otherwise your late daughter won't rest easy in heaven."

The bowl of medicine slipped straight out of my hand. "What do you mean, my late daughter? What happened to my daughter?"

Under my questioning, I finally learned the truth. After the accident, while I lay unconscious, Nathan didn't rush to our daughter first. He went to comfort his first love, who was shaken.

Gigi had been left in the passenger seat of a car in the parking lot, and in the brutal summer heat, she suffocated to death.

And the rehab for my legs, two years with no progress at all, had never been an accident either.

That daily shot of "nutritional serum" was poison, injected with his own nod of approval.

The most laughable part of all: everyone knew. And still they put on this show at my bedside for two whole years.

I dug my nails into my palm until it nearly bled, and I smiled a little at Nathan's back.

The rest of my life is long. I'm done playing along.

1.

Nathan came in carrying the bowl of medicine and bent down with the same easy intimacy as always to feel my forehead.

"How are you feeling today?"

I didn't pull away, and I didn't lean in. Today, for the first time in two years, I didn't smile at him.

Instead I said, against everything he was used to, "Nathan, when can I see Gigi? It's been two years. I miss her so much."

The hand stirring the spoon paused, then quickly went back to normal.

"Isn't she scared of you after she sees you? Have you forgotten? Every time she came back from the hospital, she'd cry at night calling for her mommy. Mom and Dad said she's too little, that coming to the hospital gives her nightmares."

Nathan stroked my hair, gentle as water. "When she's a little older, when you're a little better, I'll bring her to see you, all right?"

His expression was seamless, as if there really were a little girl at home waiting for me.

Then he swiped open the photo album. "I never forgot the videos I promised to record for you every week. If you really miss her, just watch them more."

"Gigi says she misses her mommy too."

On the screen, Gigi sat on the swing in the yard, a pinwheel clutched in her hand. Off camera, Nathan called out to her, "Gigi, look at Mommy!"

My daughter turned her head and smiled at the lens.

I'd never paid attention to the little details in these recordings before. Like a daughter whose face hadn't changed in half a year. Like flowers that never wilted through any season...

Every last piece of it was eerily wrong.

I was just about to lean in for a closer look when Nathan flipped the screen face down and brought the cup of medicine to my lips.

"Sweetie, once you can really stand again, we'll go to the beach, all three of us. You can teach her to swim. Remember you used to be on the swim team? With you teaching her hand over hand, she'll be amazing."

I swallowed the medicine, and the bitterness spread down my throat.

If Ella hadn't let it slip, I might really have believed the beautiful picture he painted.

A pity that all of it was fake.

Then Nathan tucked in the corner of my blanket and pressed a very light kiss to me, waited until my breathing steadied, and his footsteps rose, then slowly faded away.

I opened my eyes.

Ella heard the movement and came in, wheeling me out.

Roberta Pruitt's office was on this same floor.

I had always known Roberta was Nathan's first love. We chose this hospital in the first place because Roberta was the head of the pharmacy department.

You could say she had full charge of my illness.

The office window faced the back garden of the inpatient wing. Ella parked me in a corner, just where I could make out the blurred figures moving inside.

Roberta half-leaned against her desk, one leg swinging lightly. Across from her stood Nathan, and now she was reaching out, impatient, to undo his shirt buttons.

I gripped the armrests of the wheelchair, and picturing what was about to happen, my stomach turned.

"She wants to see Gigi again today."

Roberta looped her arms around his neck, not caring in the least. "What do you care? Once she can't get up at all anymore, the whole thing with your daughter is closed. Making a fuss won't do her any good. She's a cripple. What's she going to do, turn the world upside down?"

Nathan's hand settled on her waist, and the wet sound of their kissing started up.

"If it really comes to it, double today's dose? When her body hurts, she won't have the head to think about all that."

He looked at the syringe Roberta held out to him, and the kissing clearly stalled.

My heart lifted right along with him.

The next second, he nodded without a moment's hesitation. "Fine. Whatever you say."

My fingertips dug hard into my palm, and I couldn't stop the tears.

It wasn't only the betrayal of the man who slept beside me. It was that the ugliness in a human heart had rewritten everything I thought I knew.

I still remembered the first time I met Nathan, how warm and kind he was.

On a strange street in London, my bag was snatched, and while I stood there helpless, it was Nathan who charged out of the crowd. Two minutes later he came back dragging the thief by the collar to apologize to me.

I bought him dinner, and one thing led to another until we were friends.

Later we both got into grad programs and agreed to come home together. On graduation day it snowed in thick heavy flakes, and he came running through snow half as tall as a person, one step at a time, to the foot of my apartment building.

"Sabrina Quinn, I'll cherish you and love you my whole life. Be with me, all right?"

Our love ran slow and steady, and it carried us all the way to the altar, all the way to the birth of our daughter.

Until that day, when the three of us were driving back from the beach. Halfway home, Nathan took a phone call, didn't notice the oncoming car, and caused a devastating crash.

I almost lost the leg.

That day he held my hand and wept like his heart was breaking.

As they lifted me onto the stretcher, he even said the words, "If you die, I won't go on living either."

But the same man was the one who let Gigi suffocate in that parked car.

And the same man was the one who, so he could keep sneaking around behind my back with his first love, pushed the recovery-suppressing injections into my veins.

Back in the room, Ella wheeled me into the bathroom and locked the door.

The phone with its screen crushed to bits in the crash was one I'd never let anyone repair. After Ella fixed it, this was the first time I'd opened it, and inside was exactly what I'd hoped for: the backup of the in-car footage.

My fingers were shaking as I tapped the file open.

On the screen I was holding Gigi, the two of us sharing a peach, taking bites off each other, mother and daughter, while Nathan drove up front with a smile at the corner of his mouth.

Then a message popped up on the phone Nathan had propped in front as a GPS.

"You're with her today, so what about me? I finally come home and it's this hard just to see you once?"

The truth was, back then I hadn't even noticed.

But he'd panicked. The wheel jerked, and by the time he looked up the big truck was already right in front of us.

The image flipped violently. I didn't even see how I got thrown clear. The last frame the camera froze on was nothing but blood.

So that was it.

I'd thought the crash was an accident, and it really had been caused by a person.

Nathan lost focus over a woman?

They'd already been in contact, even before the crash?

I bit down hard on my lip, forcing back the hatred that wanted to pour out of me, and opened the next date.

There was no sound on the footage, but Gigi had been lying fine in the passenger seat. Then the thirty-degree heat in a hospital parking lot, that kind of heat was unbearable.

And then I watched Gigi's tiny body struggle up out of the safety seat, and start pounding on the window, over and over!

One blow, then another, her breathing slower and slower, until finally her arm didn't come up again.

I felt something jam shut in my throat.

The tears hit the screen, and all I could do was press the phone to my chest, fighting the pain down as hard as I could, a dull ache coming in waves through my chest, until it nearly dropped me to my knees.

Then Nathan came back and knocked on the bathroom door.

"Sweetie? You've been in there a long time. Is something wrong?"

I bit down hard on the back of my hand and looked at the mirror. My whole face was flushed red, like it had filled with blood.

Then he spoke again from the other side. "The oatmeal's ready, the one you love. Come out as soon as you're done in there."

I wiped my face and took almost ten minutes to steady myself before I opened the door.

Nathan had just come from his little tryst, glowing, completely oblivious to anything off about me, and considerately lifted me onto the bed.

In an instant the gardenia scent Roberta always carried filled my nose.

My stomach turned sour again.

And Roberta walked in right then. "I'm not interrupting, am I?"

White coat, hair swept up, striking as ever.

Then she gave the syringe in her hand a little shake. "Right on time for the injection."

Nathan stood up to greet her, the two of them drawing closer and closer, and then Roberta reached up and smoothly straightened his crooked tie.

"You've been busy all day, hasn't your tie been sitting crooked and you never noticed? Sweetie can't manage it, so let me help you."

Then she turned to me, making a show of confirming it. "Sweetie won't mind, right?"

I used to believe them.

I believed them when they said the first love was long in the past, I believed the medicines Roberta mixed really were meant to make me better. Back then I even clung to her hand and cried my eyes out, treating her like the one who'd saved me.

Like a clown, really.

I swallowed the last mouthful of oatmeal and gave a small smile. "Of course I don't mind. Roberta's always been so good at taking care of people. I got used to it long ago."

Neither of them was the least bit surprised by the answer.

Once everything was ready, the same familiar routine: the alcohol swab, the clear liquid pushed into my veins.

I clenched my teeth, the pain sharp enough to set my back teeth on edge.

But this time, for some reason, I didn't want them to feel so comfortable. I deliberately gripped Nathan's wrist. "Nathan, my legs, I think I've got a little feeling back in them."

Nathan's hand jerked, and Roberta's fingers, in the middle of tidying the medicine box, froze in midair.

"Really? That's wonderful!"

I nodded. "My toes... I think they can move. Do you think I'm getting better soon? I'll be able to see our daughter soon, won't I?"

Nathan had already recovered, his face full of emotion. "Yes! The three of us will be together again soon!"

After they left, I hid under the covers and pulled out my phone, opening the search bar.

Just now, in the moment the two of them were stunned, Ella had quietly photographed the name of the drug for me.

The result that came up was exactly what I'd expected: a nerve suppressant, sure enough!

One line read, "Compounding restricted to hospital pharmacy department director authorization only."

Wasn't that exactly Roberta's job?

I closed my eyes, and the tears slid from their corners into the pillow.

Three months, four at the most. I would stand in that courtroom and, step by step, make them pay.

When I woke the next morning, Roberta had upped the dose, just as I'd feared. Both my legs felt like they'd been tied over an open flame, a burning that never let up.

I braced myself against Ella and tried to stand. The moment my soles touched the floor, a stab of pain shot up my body and burned all the way to the back of my neck. I couldn't take it, not for a second.

By nightfall the pain had turned worse, like ten thousand needles being driven into me all at once.

I tossed and turned. I begged for a single bottle of painkillers and was refused.

Nathan even said, "Roberta says this is a sign you're recovering. Every patient has to get through this stage. Just hang on a little longer."

So I gritted my teeth and bore it, and my hatred for the two of them climbed to its peak.

Except Nathan sat by the bed all night too.

By the next morning the pain had finally eased a little. I drifted off, half-asleep, and when I opened my eyes again, my mother was sitting at the head of the bed.

"You're awake? Drink this while it's hot. We heard how much pain you were in last night, so I made a soup to build your strength and brought it right over."

I propped myself up and took the bowl, sipping it in small mouthfuls.

Ever since I'd stumbled onto the truth, my feelings toward all of them had cooled.

For now, there was no one else in the room.

"Sweetie, there's something I want to talk to you about."

"Let your mother say the fair thing here. That girl Roberta hasn't had it easy either. With your body the way it is... someone has to look after Nathan in your place. What are you thinking about doing?"

My hand jerked.

Half the soup spilled onto the blanket, some of it splashing across my thigh, scalding the skin an angry red. I couldn't feel the burn.

I looked at my father, silent but nodding along, and I wanted to scream one question at them: Do you two even know how Gigi died?

But I swallowed it back. It wasn't time yet.

Then I caught sight of the jade bracelet on my mother's wrist, plainly worth a fortune, and I let out a soft laugh. "How much did Roberta pay you to say all this?"

My father finally looked over, his tone flat. "Sweetie, it's not about money. Look at yourself, at the state you're in. Nathan's only in his early thirties. You can't expect him to spend the rest of his life tied to you, can you? We feel terrible about it too."

"The way things are for you, if Roberta could come into the family, at least you'd have someone. She wouldn't just leave you to fend for yourself."

What a fine, high-sounding speech.

I threw the bowl. My parents saw things going badly and quickly found an excuse to leave, but the feeling in my gut only grew stronger.

Then that afternoon I passed the nurses' station, and a few of the young nurses covered their mouths, giggling. "Director Pruitt's got good news coming and didn't even tell us. We all saw the ring."

My whole body started shaking, cold sweat breaking out down my back.

If they were getting married, what would happen to me? Would a useless woman in the way like me really not become a thorn they wanted pulled out?

Back in the room, I reached with trembling hands into the very back of the cabinet and pulled out a small glass bottle.

Something I'd secretly had mixed for me.

It could keep the basic nerve pathways from fully closing while the nerves were being suppressed, and still create the illusion of atrophy.

I decided to up my own dose. It was how I was buying myself time.

A week later, in the evening, Ella took the night off.

Nathan volunteered to change my dressings, and the moment he lifted the blanket, he froze.

My right calf was a full size thinner than the left, the kneecap jutting out like an overturned bowl, the skin beneath it mottled purple.

He said nothing, but I saw clearly that his eyes had gone red, and his throat bobbed twice.

I wasn't actually asleep in the middle of the night. I could hear the click of a lighter out on the balcony. Nathan had his back to me, on one of his long phone calls with Roberta.

"Sometimes I really just wish she'd get better and be done with it."

I held my breath.

"But then I'm scared that if she gets better she'll find out everything. There's no hiding the truth about Gigi..."

"Yeah, you're right, I'm spineless. I just can't bring myself to divorce her, do you get that?"

Hearing it, I couldn't help rolling my eyes, and not a ripple stirred inside me.

He couldn't bring himself to let me go, so he locked me to this bed and left me to suffer?

If that was love, it was too absurd for words.

The afternoon Ella secretly forwarded me the file from Gigi's attending physician, I sat and stared at the resuscitation records for a long time. Then I sent them to my lawyer.

Over the next few days, my condition slid downhill, visibly.

Nathan gave me a shot every morning and every night, and I never refused a single one. But I had pushed my own dose to the maximum too.

The two forces slammed against each other. By day my whole body swelled up; by night the heat burned in the seams of my bones.

Especially after the injection that morning. For one instant everything went white, and then I felt myself drained hollow, sinking straight down.

When I opened my eyes again, the emergency was already over.

Nathan's voice seemed to come from somewhere far away, tight with fury. "Exactly how much did you give her? Her heart rate dropped to forty! I only told you to keep her in that state. I never told you to kill her!"

Roberta gave no ground. "You think she stays quiet if I don't use that dose?"

"So what if she dies! You play the devoted husband at her bedside every single day. If you never end it, when are we ever going to get married?"

"Roberta, shut up!"

Slowly, I opened my eyes.

Nathan had his back to me, his chest heaving. The second he saw I was awake, he spun around and all but threw himself at the bed, gripping my hand.

"Sweetie, you're awake? God, you scared me. What happened, why did you pass out just now?"

I eased my hand out of his, my voice very calm. "Nathan, help me call the family in. There's something I want to discuss."

Nathan suspected nothing.

Two hours later, the room was full of people.

Mom and Dad sat at the foot of the bed, dabbing at their eyes, as if I were already a dying woman.

My in-laws had come too, standing against the wall, saying nothing.

And Roberta, as my attending physician and "dear friend," was there as well, naturally.

"Everyone's here, Sweetie. Whatever it is you want to say, go ahead."

I nodded, and without any fuss I took out the hair tie Gigi used to wear, turning it over in my fingers, my flat gaze passing over each of them.

"Last night, Gigi came to me in a dream."

"She said someone was putting something bad into Mommy's body. She told me to stop the treatment. If it went on, she said, I would die."

The moment I finished, every face in the room turned into something you could write a book about.

Nathan pressed his lips into a thin line.

Roberta gave a visible start.

My father turned to look at me, barely holding himself together. "Sweetie, what exactly are you trying to say? You're not well, everyone came here because they care about you, and you're using a dead child as an excuse..."

"Since when do dreams like that mean anything?"

"Dad! You're still going to play dumb, even now?"

I cut him off and pulled out another stack of documents. "This is Gigi's death certificate. And the resuscitation records."

The room went silent.

Nathan reached out to take them. I twisted my wrist, and the papers slipped past his hand.

"Nathan. Two years you've been playing me. Was it fun?"