"Just once stop and consider what it would be like to be in my shoes?" she yelled.
"I have, I reeked like a pig farm."
Her right hand connected. My eye exploded. I saw stars. The left side of my face went numb, my knees gave out and I tumbled to the floor. My eye swelled. I rubbed my face, blood covered my hand. Her wedding ring broke open my skin.
"I'm sorry," I blubbered - guilt filled tears stinging the cut.
"Oh my God," she cried standing over me. "James, you okay? My God, you're bleeding. "Come." She helped me up and led me to the bathroom.
I had trouble catching my breath between sobs. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it," I repeated.
"Shhh," she said hugging me. "It's okay, baby, it's okay." Her hands ran through my hair. She sat me down on the toilet and inspected my cut. "Your going to need stitches," she said.
"No!" I pleaded. "I'll be all right."
"James. Don't argue, you're going to need them," she said.
"I'm scared. I don't want anything to happen."
"Don't worry about it." Her face told a different story. What she did was wrong, but if I kept my trap shut, she wouldn't have hit me. I didn't want her in trouble, especially with the baby on the way.
"I fell down the stairs and hit my face on the banister," I said.
"No James. We can't lie," she whispered.
"I'm not lying, That's what happened. I was running in the upstairs hall, you told me to stop. I got smart with you and God punished me - I fell down the steps."
She placed her forehead to mine. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
Despite applying pressure, she couldn't stop the bleeding. "I have to call an ambulance," she said. Leaving the bathroom she muttered: "I wish your father would get home."
"NO!" I yelled following her from the bathroom. "Call Mrs. Ortolan. She'll give us a ride."
My mother shook her head. "No James, I can't do that. I just can't do that."
"Please, please," I pleaded.
Ignoring me she said, "Mr. Miller is home, I'll ask him if he'll give us a ride." Within minutes we were on our way to the hospital.
I started to believe my lie. Aside from an Emergency room doctor no one doubted me - I convinced him after his interrogation. No one, except Shannie. "I don't remember a set of brass knuckles being part of your banister's decor," she snipped. My father mumbled something about being careful near the stairs - "you're lucky you didn't break an arm." When Count saw my black eye and stitches he said I looked tough enough to play football. Knowing she owed me, my mother signed off. I joined the Junior High team.