Chapter 3 - What Evan Remembered
Evan woke first.
It was nearly evening when the doctor told me he was alert enough for a short conversation.
I followed her into his room feeling as if every step might change the rest of my life.
He looked small in the hospital bed, though he had been taller than me for three years. His face was still pale. An IV ran into his arm. His lips were dry.
The moment he saw me, tears filled his eyes.
“Mom.”
I took his hand.
“I’m here.”
He gripped my fingers hard.
For a while, he only breathed.
Then, in a whisper, he said, “I swear nothing happened.”
I shut my eyes for one second.
“I know.”
The relief on his face almost broke me.
“What do you remember?” I asked softly.
He swallowed.
“Dad told me someone was coming over.”
“Who?”
“A woman from work. Vanessa.”
The name landed harder now that it had a face I still had not seen.
“She brought coffee,” Evan said. “I didn’t want any, but she joked that I looked half-dead and pushed one into my hand.”
“What happened then?”
“I remember arguing.”
“About what?”
He hesitated.
“You.”
That startled me.
“Me?”
“She asked when you were coming home. Dad told her not to talk about you.” He squeezed my hand tighter. “Then they went into the office. I heard them yelling.”
The doctor stepped quietly out to give us privacy.
Evan continued in bursts, stopping whenever the effort made his head hurt.
He had been in the kitchen when Vanessa and Daniel started arguing. He heard the crash of something falling, went to look, and found his father dizzy and barely standing. Daniel told him to call me, but before he could, the room tilted. His own legs gave out.
“I thought it was the coffee,” Evan whispered.
“It was.”
“I tried to help Dad to the bedroom because he couldn’t stay on his feet.”
That explained the bed.
“What happened to your shirts?”
“Coffee spilled all over us. Dad was throwing up. Vanessa said she’d get towels. After that…” His eyes clouded. “I remember her laughing. Not loud. Just… like she’d already won.”
My stomach turned.
“She took my phone,” he said. “And Dad’s.”
I leaned closer.
“Evan, listen to me. Did Vanessa ever touch you?”
His eyes widened with horrified understanding of what I had first believed.
“No, Mom. No. She just kept saying, ‘Perfect. Perfect.’”
I could barely breathe.
She had drugged them.
Moved them.
Undressed them enough to create a devastating image.
Turned the camera.
Left her shoes.
And waited for me to return.
“Why?” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure I meant the question for him.
May you like
Evan looked down.
Then, very quietly, he said, “Because Dad has something she wants.”
