Chapter 3 - THE NAME OF THE DRUGDr. Hale spoke with me privately after Emma fell asleep.
He did not use dramatic language.
I appreciated that later.
At the time, I wanted dramatic language because it would match what was happening inside me.
He told me the toxicology screen had detected a prescription central nervous system depressant from a medication class sometimes used in adults for anxiety and severe sleep problems.
He did not discuss doses.
I did not ask.
I was not interested in learning how much of something could quiet a child.
“Could one accidental sip do this?”
“We cannot answer that from the screening test alone.”
“Could someone have dissolved a pill in her drink?”
“Possibly.”
“Could it have been liquid medication?”
“Possibly.”
“Could Emma have taken it herself?”
“That is part of the differential.”
“She’s ten.”
“Ten-year-olds can accidentally or intentionally ingest medication.”
“Emma wouldn’t.”
Dr. Hale’s face stayed calm.
“Hannah, loving your daughter does not give us data.”
I hated him for three seconds.
Then loved him for saying it.
“Is she going to be okay?”
“Right now, she’s improving.”
“Right now?”
“She needs monitoring overnight.”
My eyes filled.
He softened.
“Her blood pressure has stabilized. She’s more alert. Her breathing has remained adequate. Those are good signs.”
I nodded.
Then asked:
“Why did Michael look like that?”
Dr. Hale did not answer.
Correct.
“I’m not asking you to accuse him.”
“I know.”
“But you saw.”
“Yes.”
That was all he gave me.
Michael was waiting in the hall.
I stepped outside.
He stood when he saw me.
“How is she?”
“Better.”
His shoulders dropped.
I watched him.
“Do you take anything for sleep?”
His face changed.
“No.”
“For anxiety?”
“No.”
“Does your mother?”
Silence.
There.
“What does Linda take?”
“Hannah.”
“What does your mother take?”
“I don’t know all her prescriptions.”
“All?”
“She has anxiety.”
“Does she take the medication Emma has in her blood?”
“I don’t know.”
“Michael.”
“I don’t know the exact medication.”
“Have you seen her give Emma anything?”
His eyes moved away.
The hallway became silent.
“Michael.”
“It wasn’t like this.”
My body went cold.
“What wasn’t?”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Mom has something she calls calming drops.”
I stared.
“For Emma?”
“Sometimes.”
“How many times?”
“I don’t know.”
“You knew?”
“I thought it was herbal.”
“Did you ask?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“Herbal.”
“And you believed her?”
“I had no reason not to.”
“Then why are you pale?”
He looked at me.
Because Michael was not a good liar when he was frightened.
He whispered:
May you like
“Because three weeks ago Emma fell asleep at Mom’s house and I couldn’t wake her properly.”
My knees almost gave out.
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