Part 1: The Chair Nobody Held
My husband called me dramatic when I couldn’t get up off the floor. My mother-in-law told everyone to keep eating, and his childhood friend burst out laughing.
No one noticed the blood soaking into my hair.
And my three-year-old daughter was the only one who tried to save me.
It all happened at my mother-in-law Margaret’s birthday dinner.
I had my little Ellie in my arms as I went to sit down. At that very moment, Lacey, my husband Grant’s lifelong friend, pulled the chair out from under me.
I fell backward.
A brutal blow struck the back of my skull. The large clip holding my hair snapped against the floor, and one jagged end drove into my head.
Then, nothing.
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even call for help.
“Look at her!” Lacey cried between bursts of laughter. “She looks like a turtle on its back!”
The guests roared with laughter.
My mother-in-law put her silverware down on the table.
“Claire, can’t you even sit down properly? Did you have to ruin my birthday?”
Ellie started to cry and tried to lift me.
“Mommy! Mommy, get up!”
Grant glared at me, irritated.
“Lacey was just joking with you. Are you really going to lie there to make her feel guilty?”
Lacey pretended to dab away a tear.
“I’m sorry, Grant. I didn’t know Claire was so sensitive.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” he answered. “Lately she looks for any excuse to fight.”
My mother-in-law slammed her hand on the table.
“Leave her! When she gets tired of pretending, she’ll get up on her own. Let’s keep eating!”
And they did.
No one called an ambulance.
No one checked whether I was breathing.
Because I wasn’t breathing anymore.
My body still lay on the floor, but my consciousness hovered above it.
I had died in front of my entire family.
And no one knew.
Ellie pulled a chair over next to me.
“Mommy, it’s okay. I’m holding it for you. Now you can sit down.”
I reached out to hug her.
My hands slid through her small body.
That was when I understood I would never again hold her against my chest.
While the adults raised their glasses, my mother-in-law began to complain.
“Other women have grandsons to carry on the family name. I only have a girl. And Claire won’t even give me another grandchild.”
Ellie stood beside her legs.
“Grandma…” she whispered.
Margaret paid her no attention.
Lacey smiled.
“It’s true. Ellie’s already three. Claire should think about giving Grant a son.”
My husband sipped his wine.
“Ever since Ellie was born, my wife only thinks about her.”
Those words wounded me more than the fall.
I remembered the night we learned we were having a girl.
Grant had kissed my belly and said, “Perfect. A little princess as beautiful as her mother.”
Now he sat there, not defending our daughter.
Ellie balled up her small fists.
“My mommy is good! She bought Grandma’s dress! She picked it out with lots of love!”
Then she tugged at Grant’s sleeve.
“Daddy, tell them Mommy is good.”
He shoved her hand away roughly.
“Children don’t interrupt when grown-ups are talking!”
Ellie stumbled against a chair.
I ran to her out of instinct, but my arms passed through her again.
My girl went back to my body.
She laid her cheek against my motionless chest.
“Mommy, hug me…”
I had never once failed to answer that request.
Until that night.
When the guests finished eating, Margaret walked past me and nudged me with her foot.
“Still keeping up the show?”
No response.
Ellie, who had been stroking my hair, suddenly lifted a hand.
Her fingers were stained red.
“Daddy… Mommy has blood!”
Grant didn’t even get up.
“Then get a napkin and wipe it off.”
The little girl ran from one adult to the next, begging for help.
No one would listen.
At last she came back and knelt beside me on the cold floor.
With a napkin, she began carefully wiping the blood from my head.
“Don’t cry, Mommy. Ellie’s here.”
When night fell, everyone went to bed.
My mother-in-law switched off the lights.
Ellie found a blanket on the sofa and dragged it over to me. It was too heavy for her, but she managed to cover my legs.
Then she curled up beside me.
“Mommy, don’t be cold.”
I stayed there, kneeling next to my daughter, weeping tears no one could see.
Some time later, Grant came downstairs for water.
Ellie raised her head at once.
“Daddy! Mommy still won’t wake up!”
He glanced at the blanket and frowned.
“She’s still doing this?”
Then something happened that chilled even my soul.
From upstairs, Lacey called out sweetly:
“Grant, honey, are you going to be long?”
My husband smiled.
A smile he hadn’t given his daughter all night.
Ellie tried to stop him, but he climbed the stairs.
The little girl followed.
I went after them.
When we reached the bedroom, I saw Lacey go to Grant, loop her arms around his neck, and kiss him on the lips.
He didn’t pull away.
On the contrary.
He drew her closer.
Then Ellie pushed the door open.
“LET GO OF MY DADDY! HE’S MY MOMMY’S HUSBAND!”
And what Grant did next made me wish, for the first time since my death, that someone could hear me scream.
