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“I’m not sure about this,” I tell her. “I think we could slide them down, maybe, one at a time?”
“They’ll crash into the glass table at the bottom of the stairs,” Tish says. “No, we have to carry them.”
Tish is bent down, next to the suitcase she’s rolled to the edge of the stairs. These trunks are likely worth thousands of dollars with big gold latches and the telltale Louis Vuitton monogram. Each one must weigh over one hundred pounds empty.
I look down the hall, past Tish, and blink. It’s Ashlyn. She’s running toward us.
“I’ll take this one.” Tish starts down the stairs, the heavy trunk behind her, and as I watch, Ashlyn shoves her from behind. I see Tish’s necklace wrap around the wheel. It’s all in slow motion. I hear a guttural scream. I watch in horror as Tish’s body flies over the trunk, and they fall together in a terrible tangle to the bottom of the stairs, crashing to a stop under the glass table that shatters and falls on top of the trunk.
We stand together at the top of the stairs. Tish’s body twisted and partially hidden by the trunk. I can’t process what just happened. All I can think of is protecting Ashlyn. She shouldn’t be here. She can’t be found here.
“Do you think she’s dead?” Ashlyn asks, her voice a whisper. “I want her to die.”
“I understand. She is a bad person,” I say. I can’t believe this is happening. Did Ashlyn kill Tish? Was this purposeful? And why? I had no idea my daughter felt this type of rage against Tish. I should have realized how much pain she was in, too.
She’s looking at me, her eyes shining and wide. “I’m on your side, Mom.”
My heart feels the love, but my brain knows we must get in front of this situation. There’s no more time to talk. “Ashlyn, go. Now! Leave the way you came. Make sure no one sees you!” I scream.
Adrenaline zips through me as I rush down the stairs to where Tish has landed. Her body is under the trunk, her head at an awkward angle.
Ashlyn disappears down the hall, back the way she came. I run to the living room to get away from the horror and to give Ashlyn time to escape. I’m shaking all over, but I try to breathe. I pace back and forth in the living room, gathering Tish’s copy of the contract from the coffee table. I catch a glimpse of myself in the living room mirror: I’m pale, and dark circles shroud my eyes. I turn away and sit down on the couch. The bowl of red cherries glisten in the light of the crystal chandelier overhead.
I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here on Tish’s couch in shock, but suddenly a man walks through the front door.
We stare at each other.
“Who are you?” he asks.
“Who are you?” I ask.
He ignores the question and yells, “Tish? Oh my god!”
He’s kneeling on the ground next to the trunk. I rush to his side. “There’s been an accident. She just fell down the stairs. I don’t know what to do.” Tears stream down my face.
“Call 911!” the man yells.
I find my phone in my purse and dial 911.
“What’s your emergency?” the operator asks.
“It looks like a woman has fallen down the stairs. It’s a terrible accident. Send help, please,” I manage in a choking voice. What if she’s dead? What if she’s not?
“Is she breathing?” the operator asks.
“I don’t know.”
“The squad is on the way. Stay on the phone. I need you to check for a pulse,” the operator demands.
I run to where Tish landed. Sparkling shards of glass decorate the floor. The man who came in the door is kneeling next to her. In my imagination, I watch as she lifts the trunk and stands up, yelling for Ashlyn, trying to blame my daughter and me for her accident. Because, it was, it must be, an accident. But as I reach her side, she’s still pinned underneath the trunk.
“Can you feel a pulse?” the operator asks.
“Is there a pulse?” I ask the stranger, but he’s shaking his head.
I don’t want to touch her. Her neck is at such a terrible angle. I find her right hand and see the excessively large wedding ring from my husband, twice the size of mine. I touch her wrist, but I can’t feel a pulse as my own blood rushes through my body at warp speed.
“I don’t know. I don’t know. Her head, it’s twisted,” I say, walking away from Tish’s body. “She’s not moving. I don’t know.”
