I looked like a woman I would have felt sorry for in a grocery store.
At the hospital intake desk, they made me spell Chloe’s full name twice.
They gave me a visitor badge with the time printed on it.
4:41 p.m.
I still have it in a drawer.
Daniel was treated first.
Chloe was smaller, but she had gotten less exposure because she had called me and then collapsed closer to the den doorway.
The doctor said the word lucky.
I hated him for it for about ten seconds.
Then I understood he was trying to give me something to hold.
Daniel woke around 6:10 p.m.
His first word was Chloe.
Not my name.
Not where am I.
Chloe.
I put my hand on his shoulder and told him she was alive.
Only then did he cry.
He cried without sound, eyes squeezed shut, oxygen tube still under his nose, one hand reaching blindly for mine.
