Chapter 7: What Richard Called Protection
He asked if he could come over.
I said yes.
He arrived within twenty minutes, which told me he'd been close — maybe already in his car, already half-expecting this call.
He sat at the same kitchen table where everything had started two nights ago.
Mom was in the living room.
I'd asked her to stay there for now.
She hadn't argued, which meant she understood this was something I needed to hear first.
Richard wrapped both hands around the mug of coffee I gave him and didn't drink it.
"Gavin wasn't good for her," he said.
"Even before the accident."
"That's not your judgment to make."
"I know that.
I know how it sounds." He set the mug down.
"Dana called me four months before the accident.
She was upset.
She said Gavin had been — controlling wasn't quite the word she used, but that was the shape of it.
Monitoring her phone.
Getting angry when she spent time with friends without telling him first.
She wasn't sure if she was overreacting."
I kept my face still.
"I told her she wasn't overreacting.
I told her to trust what she was feeling.
We talked for almost two hours that night." He looked at the table.
"That was one of the longest conversations we'd had since she found me.
She'd been keeping it from me for months because she didn't want me to think badly of him."
"And after the accident?"
"After the accident, he was there constantly.
And the nurses — a couple of them pulled Patricia aside privately.
Said he'd been aggressive at the desk when he didn't get information fast enough.
Said he'd raised his voice at a junior staff member." He looked up.
"Dana couldn't speak for herself.
She was in a coma.
And this man who she had privately told me frightened her was the one making decisions about her care."
I was quiet for a moment.
"So you had him removed."
"Yes."
"Without telling anyone why."
"I told Patricia why.
She has it on file.
I asked her to keep it confidential because I didn't want it to become a public dispute that could affect Dana's care environment.
I didn't want lawyers and arguments happening around a woman who was fighting to stay alive."
"And when Dana came out of the coma and didn't remember him?"
Richard's jaw tightened slightly.
"I made a judgment call.
Maybe the wrong one.
I thought — she doesn't remember him.
She doesn't remember what he did to her.
If I let him back in, she has no defenses.
She can't protect herself from something she doesn't remember needing protection from." He exhaled.
"So I kept the restriction in place."
"That wasn't your decision to make either," I said.
"No," he said quietly.
"It wasn't."
The kitchen was very still.
"Is any of this documented?" I asked.
"What Dana told you about him.
What the nurses reported."
"Patricia has the nursing staff notes.
Dana's calls to me — I have them on my phone, but they're just calls.
No recordings."
"Would Patricia speak to someone?
If it came to that?"
"I think she would.
She's the one who reached out to you in the first place." He looked at me steadily.
"I'm not asking you to take my word for it.
I'm asking you to talk to Patricia before you make any decisions about Gavin."
I looked at him for a long moment.
"I'm going to do exactly that," I said.
"And then I'm going to talk to my mother.
And then the three of us are going to decide together what happens next.
Not you alone.
Not Gavin.
All of us."
He nodded.
"That's fair," he said.
He stood to leave.
He was almost to the hallway when Mom appeared in the doorway.
She'd been listening.
Neither of us had heard her move.
She looked at Richard for a long moment.
"Is she safe?" Mom asked.
"Right now.
Is Dana safe?"
"Yes," he said.
"She's safe."
"Then the rest we can sort out." She stepped aside to let him pass.
"But Richard — no more deciding things alone.
That ends now."
He looked at her.
Something in his face shifted — not relief exactly.
Something older than relief.
"Agreed," he said.
He left.
Mom turned to me.
"Call Patricia in the morning," she said.
"I want to hear it from her directly."
"I will."
She went back to the living room.
I heard her settle into her chair.
Then my phone buzzed.
May you like
A text from Gavin.
*Has he told you about the will yet?*
