Moments 3: Emily's Story

Chapter 1

Emily's POV

At sixty years old, this life has certainly been a long one. One I know I will finish out, still madly in love with Jefferson Moses Patel. My husband. My rock. My tall glass of handsome and loving. He is the true love of my life. He knows me, body and soul. He appreciates and loves every inch of me. He tells me and shows me every day just how much I mean to him. And I don't miss an opportunity to share how much I treasure this man either!

Throughout one's life, you have moments that stand out. Moments that you know will be etched into your mind, into the very essence of who you are at the core of you. Moments that, when recalled can be so vivid it feels real. And, whether it be in how similar these moments are, or how vastly different it is between past and present. Those are the moments that define you. That shapes you. That forms you into who you are.

One of those moments comes in the form of a police officer knocking at your door when your family is over. When the officer asks if your husband lives here. When they tell you there's been an accident, that you need to hurry downtown to City Hospital. They offer to drive you there if you're unable to drive yourself. It's a moment that's happened before. In what feels like another life to another woman. But it was you. It happened to you. When you were 31 years old.

I was sitting on our couch in the living room. Waiting for Alex to come home, he was late again. He'd been working longer and longer hours the last almost year. It seemed to get even crazier as time went on. Even on weekends! I know what you're thinking because trust me. I'm thinking the exact same thing. I mean, honestly. Life is too short to be stuck at work! Right? So, we're leaving today for a long weekend. It's going to be perfect! Getting out of town, and down to the beach! It'll be perfect. I booked us an oceanfront room, and I also booked us a parasailing trip. He was going to love that! Checking the clock on the stove again, I'm getting frustrated.

"UGH! Where are you, Alex?!" I shout into our empty apartment, aside from me.

Just as I pick up the cordless phone to call the office, again, there's a knock at the door. Weird. We aren't expecting anyone. Moving toward the door to look through the peephole, I see two police officers standing there. Confused, I open the door. Did something happen in the building?

"Can I help you, officers?" Keeping the chain in place on the door, peeking just my head around the door.

"Are you Mrs. Emily Cayhill?"

"Yes," I say, hesitantly. "How can I help you?" Still confused as to what they need me for.

"Ma'am, there's been an accident with your husband, Alex Cayhill. We need you to hurry downtown to City Hospital." I stood there, not comprehending anything that was just said to me. An accident? Alex? He was on his way home, what accident? Why was nothing making sense?

"Ma'am? Do you need us to drive you?" I tilted my head, still confused. Drive me where? What is going on? It clearly registered on my face as the officers looked at each other.

"Ma'am," one of the officers leaned down to look directly into my eyes so I would hopefully absorb the information he was about to slowly explain to me. Again. "Your husband was involved in a motor vehicle accident. We need you to come to the hospital. Please let us drive you." Not breaking eye contact, I nod, a numb feeling coming over me. It feels like I already know. Closing the door, I slide the lock over, grabbing my coat and purse off the hook, I walk out of my apartment and down the hallway. The officers follow behind me.

Before I can blink, I'm in the back of the squad car, and we're headed down to the hospital. I sit there quietly, replaying the words over and over again in my head. 'Your husband's been in an accident, we need to go to the hospital'. I can't focus on anything but the fact that Alex was in an accident. I hope he's not hurt badly. They wouldn't drive me down if it wasn't though. Oh god. Do I have to identify him? Oh god. I can't do that.

Soon enough, we're walking into the hospital, one of the officers walking me up to the surgery waiting room. There's someone in scrubs behind the desk.

"This is the wife of the auto accident." The officer said. The woman in scrubs nodded and went to...somewhere? I don't even know. What's going on? How is my husband? What is happening?!

"That's what we're waiting to find out Mrs. Cayhill. Would you like something to drink?" The officer asked. I looked at him confused again.

"You asked all of that out loud, Ma'am." A blush flies up my face, embarrassment taking over.

"Shit. I didn't mean to say any of that out loud!" I whisper-hissed at him. He just nodded his head.

"What happened with the accident? Who hit who? Is the other drive alright?"

"The other driver was drunk, and completely fine aside from some bruising and two broken ribs. She hit your husband. From witnesses and other 9-1-1 calls, it seems she ran a red light. And when they brought your husband in, he was critical. That's why we were sent to pick you up. That's all I know so far." He sounded so respectful. Like he was genuinely sorry I was going through this.

Suddenly, my legs felt like jelly and I needed to sit. Now.

"Mrs. Cayhill."

"Mrs. Patel?" Blinking, I came out of my memories.

"Yes?"

"Is your husband Jefferson Moses Patel?" I nodded, the door to our apartment had the latch still on it. I gripped the door tighter, but as they said the same words from all those years ago, my legs gave out on me. I fell to the ground. A hand reached through the door, catching before I teetered back and hit my head.

"Mrs. Patel! Ma'am! Please stay with me. We need to get to the hospital. Please ma'am. It's an emergency." Blinking away the spots, I nod. The officer waits until I'm steadied before letting go of my hand. This isn't happening again. No. Not again.

Why?

Why does this happen at what I think is my happiest?!

WHY?!

Pulling myself together, I grab my rain jacket Jefferson bought me two weeks ago when I told him I'd never had one of the yellow raincoats, but I'd always wanted one. It was spring, and it was supposed to be a wet one. He'd ordered one for me, and I wore it every day there was even a chance of rain. Now? It was a downpour outside.

It was like the world was crying for me. Like the skies had opened up and let loose all the tears they'd been saving. When we reached the ground floor, the tears that were stinging my eyes threatened to spill over. Not my Jefferson. Please. Please, God.

We stepped out into the rain as we made our way to the squad car. It was all the same.

Please, God, don't take him from me. Please, not Jefferson.