"Not right away. After about five minutes of lying there, I was getting a bad crick in my neck. I decided I needed to make a sound, a falling sound, so I slapped my hands on the floor as hard as I could. But when we were picking our upgrades for the house, we got the expensive underpad, so it hardly made any noise at all. So I got up, and jumped as hard as I could on the floor, then got back into position as fast as I could."
I took a breath. "I guess Angie heard it, because she showed up at the top of the stairs first, and I guess she took the scene in pretty fast, because she screamed, and then Paul showed up behind her, and Angie came down the stairs, and I was doing a pretty good job of not moving, and holding my breath -"
"So you were trying to look dead."
"And Angie was calling out my name and asking if I was okay, and I guess I had my eyes open just a slit, to see what was going on, and I notice that Paul isn't there, and the first thing I think is, Doesn't he care? His father's broken his neck and he doesn't want to offer me an aspirin or something?"
"Let me guess. He'd gone to make a phone call."
I nodded. "Two, actually."
I told Trixie that when Paul reappeared at the top of the stairs, I opened my eyes all the way. Angie nearly screamed, and when she did, Paul almost slipped down the stairs himself. I pulled myself into a sitting position. Angie asked me what had happened, was I okay, and Paul was telling me not to move, an ambulance was on the way.
"An ambulance?" I said. "What the hell did you call an ambulance for?"
"I thought you were dead! Aren't you hurt?"
I shook my head violently. "No no no! I'm fine. Can't you see that I'm fine? I was just trying to teach you guys a lesson about leaving your goddamn backpacks at the top of the stairs. How many times have I told you not to do that?"
"I don't know, Dad," said Paul. "How many times have we told you not to pretend you've killed yourself?"
"I can't believe you," said Angie, who was pulling away from me. "You're totally whacked."
Paul was shaking his head slowly, then stopped suddenly. "Oh, shit."
"What?" I said.
"I guess I better call back Mom."
"You called your mother?"
"When I saw you lying there dead, yeah, I thought she might want to know."
"Jesus Christ," I said. Who knew that my son was going to act so responsibly, calling 911, getting in touch with Sarah. Kids can let you down in the strangest of ways. "You have to call her back," I said. "Tell her I'm okay." And then it hit me. "The ambulance! Call back the ambulance! Tell them not to come."
Paul started to move, then stopped. He looked very pissed. "I'm not calling the ambulance."
"What?"
"You call them. You explain it. I've had enough of this bullshit." He came down the stairs, grabbed his backpack as he went by, stepped over my outstretched legs, and went downstairs to play video games.
"Way to go, Dad," Angie said, getting up to go into the kitchen.
In the distance I could hear a siren. I jumped up, ran into the kitchen, and dialed Sarah's number. I got one of the other editors on the desk.
"She just flew out of here," he said. "Her husband was in an accident or something."
"This is her husband."
"It's Zack, right? It's Dan. We sat together at the Christmas party? Jeez, how are you? Are you okay? You at the hospital or something?"
"I'm fine. Do you think you could find Sarah, catch her in the parking lot before she heads home?"
"I don't know, she left here a couple of minutes ago and she was really moving, you know?"
I wondered whether Sarah had her cell phone with her. Of course, even if she did, there was no guarantee she had it turned on. I'd talked to her about this in the past. What good is having a cell phone with you if you don't have it on, I told her. If we need to reach you in an emergency, and your phone is down at the bottom of your purse, where you can't hear it even if it is on, well -
There was loud banging at the door. "Hang on, Dan," I said. "I think that's the ambulance."
"So somebody else got hurt? One of the kids?"
"Just hang on." I set down the receiver and ran to the front door, where I saw two uniformed attendants, a man and a woman. They were carrying leather bags and had radios that crackled clipped to their chests. I put on my friendliest smile.
"Hey," I said. Like maybe they'd dropped by to ask for a donation to Mothers Against Drunk Driving. Where was my checkbook?
The woman said, "Hello, sir. We have a report that someone's fallen? Down the stairs?"
I laughed. "That was me. But I'm okay, really."
The man said, "We should still have a look at you, just the same, make sure that you didn't suffer any injuries."
What I didn't know until later was that Sarah did, in fact, have her cell phone with her, and was frantically trying to call the house from her car. She'd tried once in the parking lot at the paper, then again on Lakeshore as she headed for the ramp to the expressway. Trying to keep one eye on the road, one eye on the phone, pushing the "send" button, repeatedly getting busy signals, trying again. I'd left the phone off the hook, of course, expecting to get back on the line with Dan.
"No, no, really," I protested to the ambulance attendants. "I'm okay. I wasn't hurt."
"The dispatcher said a young man, your son, called to say his father had fallen down the stairs."