She had watched.
Still, I agreed.
She entered carrying no flowers, no gift, nothing that could soften what had happened.
She looked exhausted.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
I said nothing.
She sat in the chair near the door rather than approaching my bed.
“I should have helped you.”
“Yes.”
Her face crumpled slightly.
“I thought Alexis was just being cruel.
Then you fell, and everyone froze.
Some people laughed because they were drunk and because everyone else was reacting like it was a joke.
That’s not an excuse.”
“No, it isn’t.”
She nodded.
Then she took out her phone.
“I have something.”
My body went tense.
“A video?”
“Not mine.
One of the guys sent it to the reunion group before your dad told everyone not to delete anything.
He thought it was funny.”
My stomach turned.
Megan looked ashamed.
“The video starts before Alexis picks up the gravy boat.”
Dad stood from the window.
“Does it show the fall?”
“Everything.”
The officer returned later and collected the file.
I did not watch it that day.
I couldn’t.
Dad did.
He came back into the room afterward looking ten years older.
“You don’t need to see it,” he said.
Eventually, I did.
The video showed me standing near the doorway with my hand over my stomach.
It captured Alexis saying, clearly, “You useless woman with that huge stomach.
You ruined my party.”
It showed her walk to the table.
It showed me trying to leave.
It showed her pour the steaming gravy over my head.
Then my scream.
My backward step.
My fall.
The camera jerked as people rushed toward the staircase, but the audio kept recording.
You could hear someone laughing.
You could hear Mom say, “She’s so dramatic.”
You could hear Alexis say, “Finally, some entertainment.”
Then, several seconds later, my weak voice from below the stairs.
“Please.
Someone call an ambulance.”
No one did.
That part changed everything for me.
For years, I had explained my family’s behavior away.
Alexis was sensitive.
