The other day my son jumped off a play structure and hit himself in his own face with his knee. It hurt and he was upset. When he recovered and stopped crying a few minutes later I decided to tell him a story that might cheer him up. I told him the tale of how Auntie Melissa once busted her own face in a trampoline accident. Here is the adult version of the story.
Melissa and I were house sitting for a friend who had a big trampoline in their backyard. We were 18 or 19 years old. We were a little drunk. It was late at night and there was some high bouncing going on. Melissa got a bit overzealous and somehow flung her leg up and kneed herself right in the face. She was injured. Her face began to swell up and we both freaked out and thought she might have a concussion. It looked like there would certainly be a black eye in her near future. I drove her to the hospital. It was late, probably around midnight or just past it. We sat in the emergency room for a long time. While we waited to be seen by a doctor we were both interviewed by a nurse. She took Melissa aside. She interrogated her about how this had happened to her face. She asked Melissa if someone, a boyfriend maybe, had done this to her. Melissa laughed it off. She told her the truth. The nurse was not convinced. She pulled me aside and was all serious like “look, if a guy did this to her don’t be afraid to tell me.” I told her “lady, it was a trampoline accident, seriously.” I remember how reluctant she was to believe us. Obviously I understand that domestic abuse is not to be taken lightly, but back then were both so young, we couldn’t quite wrap our brains around the idea that someone would make up a story like that to cover up for some asshole who beat them up. Besides, didn’t you just tell everyone “I fell down some stairs”?
In the end they gave up trying to get the truth out of us, not realizing they already had it. We went home. It was late and we weren’t tipsy anymore, just tired. Melissa wanted to get out of there and stop feeling like the victim of a crime that hadn’t been committed. I couldn’t wait to tell everyone the story.
When I told this story to my son he was absolutely riveted. He ate it up. He asked me to repeat it to him four times! Of course his version only included the trampoline and the injury. That was enough to tickle him. Oh, and the picture.