“What was the location of the accident?”
“We had just come off Exit 15 on 95 and onto Jefferson Boulevard.”
“And what caused the accident?”
“A car had been stopped in the shoulder and unexpectedly merged into traffic just as we were about to pass. We swerved to avoid the car, going into the lane to the left of us, and sideswiped a car that was already in that lane. Our car lost control and bounced around before being spun into oncoming traffic.”
“And that is your own personal recollection of the accident?”
“No. I don’t remember any of it. That’s what I learned afterward from the police and witnesses.”
“What’s the first thing you’re able to remember from that evening?”
“I remember waking up, and our car was upside down. A truck was smashed into the driver’s side, and people were yelling that everything was going to be okay.”
The woman paused and then her voice broke when she started again. “There was so much blood. So much blood, and he wouldn’t wake up. Everything wasn’t okay.” I kept my eyes trained on my hands out of respect.
“Thank you,” Arnold said. “I’m sorry. I know this must be difficult for you to talk about.”
The woman sniffled. “It is.”
“Would you like to take a moment?”
“No. It’s fine. I’d rather just get this over with.”
“Okay then. So, the cause of the accident, you’re saying, was a car cut you off. But you don’t recall seeing that car actually cut you off?”
“Yes.”
“So that I’m clear, you don’t remember seeing the car, or you weren’t able to see the car from where you were seated?”
“I don’t remember.”
I tried to tune the rest out, knowing where Arnold was going with his questioning and wanting nothing to do with it. “Let’s talk about where you were seated during the accident? Were you seated in the front passenger seat?”
“I was.”
“Were you wearing a seatbelt?”
“No.”
“No seat belt. Why not?”
“I’d just taken it off for a minute.”
“Were you upright in the passenger seat, Ms. Delmonico?”
“I don’t understand the question,” she sounded panicked.
“From the nature of your injury and the angle of the impact, it appears that you weren’t facing forward as one might assume is normal when you’re seated in the passenger seat of a moving vehicle.”
The woman’s lawyer jumped in. “This is a new low, even for you, Arnie. My client lost someone she cared about and was injured. None of this is relevant and you know it.”
“This is a deposition. Keep your relevance objections for the judge, Frank.”
The other lawyer grumbled something I didn’t catch.
“I’ll go back to my original question,” Arnold said. “Were you upright in the passenger seat prior to the accident, Ms. Delmonico?”
There was quiet and then a low answer. “No. I was lying down.”
“You were lying down? Where was your head?”
“On the driver’s lap.”
“So, it wasn’t possible to know if a car cut you off or not, even if you remembered that actual accident?”
“No, I guess not.”
“Were the driver’s pants open while your head was on his lap?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You don’t remember?”
“You asked, she answered,” Gina’s attorney warned. “Move on.”
“Fine.”
By that point, I was so pissed off that none of this had to do with the type of treatment she received, that my knuckles were turning white keeping my hands folded. Where were the questions relevant to the woman’s medical care, for Christ’s sake?
“For the record, what was the name of the driver whose lap your head was on—with or without his pants being open?”
The woman whimpered, causing me to look up. Tears were streaming down her red face, and she was doing her best to keep control. She looked distraught and our eyes caught as she spoke. “Ben. Benjamin Valentine.”The door lock clanked closed. Too exhausted to even turn over and see who was there, I assumed it was a fellow resident coming in to get some sleep. Until lips met the back of my neck. Even if I hadn’t known Bridget’s touch, I was like Pavlov to her smell. Only this dog wasn’t ready to face his master quite yet.
Taking the cowardly way out, I pretended to be asleep. She wasn’t on the schedule for a shift this morning, so I wondered if they called her in because someone called out sick. For a few minutes, I listened as she tiptoed around the dark room and then she brushed her lips on my cheek.
I waited until the door opened and closed to roll over. There was a small nightstand next to the bed I was pretending to be asleep in. Bridget’s handwriting slashed across a folded piece of paper—Simon. Next to it was a brown paper bag. I grabbed the note first.Simon,
I stopped by after dropping Brendan at school to bring you some treats. Hope everything went well yesterday with the lawyers. Looking forward to seeing you tonight at home. I left something to remind you what’s waiting for you after shift.