Page 18 of Fall for Me

The echo of the rings on the metal rod seemed to linger in the space around me.

Jude must have explained to him that I wouldn’t look quite the same as he remembered. But there was no way words could help a four-year-old fully conceptualize something like this. The black and blue bruises. The Frankenstein-usage bandage. The self-cut hair.

Jack froze, his hand still on the curtain. His expression went from exuberant to horrified.

“Jack, it’s okay,” I said. I should have smashed down my wild, newly short hair. Angled my face sideways, so he didn’t see the giant bandage first. I could have put on sunglasses or a brighter smile, or done something to look less terrifying.

For some reason, having Jack scared of me felt worse than anything else. “I know I look different, sweetie,” I said, my voice strained with the slightest hint of desperation. Please Jack. I’m safe, I promise. “But it’s still me—Aunty Chessy.”

But that only made it worse. His little face blanched. Then it crumpled. “I want my Daddy,” Jack said, backing up.

But it wasn’t his dad who appeared behind him. It was mine, carrying a backpack.

Jack turned around, clinging to his legs.

“He thinks you’re Jude,” I whispered, desperate not to make a terrible situation even worse. Jack hadn’t seen Dad in nearly a year, and even then, it was only at Mom’s funeral.

“Now, Jack,” Dad said.

I cringed. Dad was a stranger to his grandson. And when Jack looked up and saw it wasn’t his own daddy’s legs he was clinging to—

“Daddy!” Jack screamed. Then he took off. I pulled back the curtain to see Jude sprinting into the room, catching up his little boy in his arms.

Something sharp sliced through my heart. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure to who.

“Jacky, it’s okay!” Jude lifted his son in his arms, but as he did, he smashed his sneaker into the wheeled table next to my bed. It rolled hard into the wall, hitting my leg and sending my last hospital meal crashing to the floor.

Pain ripped through the stitches on my thigh, and I cried out.

“Peanut!” Dad exclaimed, reaching for me.

“No!” I said. Yelled. Dad had been gone for so long. He couldn’t just slip back into my life and act like I was still a little girl. “I’m fine.”

Dad looked so wounded I looked away, unable to face him now, too.

This couldn’t have gone any worse. I wondered, with horror, if this was my life now.

I stood up, turning my back on all of them. Hot shame burned in my chest at both scaring Jack and yelling at my dad.

“I’m so sorry Chels,” Jude said over Jack’s cries. He came around so I could see him. Jack clung to his dad, burying his face in his neck. “He’s just shocked. I mean… scared. Worried about his Aunty Chels.” He was fumbling for words.

Because I was cornered, I put on a smile. But I could feel how frail it was. “It’s fine. It’s probably better if we do a visit later when at least the bruising’s gone down.”

Then I brushed past them all, heading to the bathroom with my face down.

I slammed the door behind me. When I reached for the fresh change of clothes Cass had left for me on the counter, my hands shook.

I was halfway through pulling on my jeans when Cass knocked on the door.

“Chels?” Cass was back, her voice muffled. “You okay?”

They must have told her what happened.

“Yeah,” I said, straightening out my voice. “I’m fine. Just getting freshened up.”

There was a pause, then she said, “You sure?”

“I’m sure!” I snapped, buttoning my jeans and angrily pulling on my t-shirt.

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