“You know, we used to talk about traveling when we were older,” he says, staring at his fingers. “She wanted to go to France. I promised her the Eiffel Tower at night.” He sighs and rakes his hands through his hair.
“Stop talking in past tense, Dad. She’s gonna be fine.” I huff, not wanting to start dwelling on the negative. “She’s in a great hospital, she’s getting great care, I’m sure she’s fine. They probably are just running slow, like any other hospital in this area.”
“You didn’t see her, Benton. Her skin was graying… her fingers were chilled. You didn’t see it, Benton,” he whispers pained.
“Dad, she still had a heartbeat when you guys got here, didn’t she?” I ask frantically. What is he not telling me?
“I-”
“Mr. James?” A nurse calls from the doors of the waiting room that lead out into the courtyard. “Mr. Eric James?” She looks around, and, when my dad stands, her eyes find him and she smiles sadly.
Sadly. Fuck.
“Hey, Dad, you want me to come with you?” I ask, putting my hand on his shoulder.
He looks at me with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen on him and just nods. That’s it. He doesn’t smile; he doesn’t speak. It’s like he knows something I don’t. The nurse leads us into an office just down the hallway and tells us the doctor will be in any minute.
“They normally call you to take you to the patient,” he mumbles, staring at the dark wood desk in front of us. This must be a secondary office, because it’s not riddled with papers or phones or computers. Just a few pens, a few files of some sort, and dust.
“I’m sure it’s because they’re busy and want to update us on everything, so we don’t worry,” I say, trying to convince myself the words I’m saying are true. Honestly, I can’t think anything but negative things at this point in the game, but I’m trying to stay positive for my dad.
He grunts his response, and nods, as we wait silently for some type of news.
It has to be happy news. She can’t be gone. The last thing I told her was a lie… that I wasn’t seeing anyone… the last conversation I have with my mom will not be based on a lie. She’s got to be happy and healthy, and just resting somewhere while the doctors make their rounds. I can’t live without my mom. My dad can’t live without my mom. I still remember when we had to go without her for a week when I was a teenager. It was terrible. I lived off mac and cheese and pop tarts for six days straight because my dad can’t cook like her. He missed her so badly that all he did was waste away in front of the TV. I went to school and came home, and I swear he didn’t move from his spot on the couch. She was gone, trying to help nurse her father back to health, but, with them living five hours away, it was no use for her to come back home. When she finally did, my dad made sure to be the best he could be around her so she never left again. They love each other harder than I’ve ever seen a couple love. I can only wish one day I’ll find that love again. I had it with Carly, and, though we had our rough times (like every couple does), I swore we’d be the happy couple ‘till death. I just didn’t know death would strike so soon. Now, I’m a thirty year old single father to a baby I adopted the day my wife passed.
I thought I had everything in my world finally in neat little boxes, and, in one day, everything changed. Now, here we are again, almost a year later, waiting for news in a hospital. My phone dings and I smile, seeing a picture Gabby sent of her and Hannah eating dinner. Spaghetti it is, and Hannah is covered in red sauce. Another message dings through and I open it, remembering to silence my phone before I go on.
Gabby: Bath night tonight. Sorry
I shoot her a quick text back, smiling as I type.
Benton: Looks fun, wish I was there. Will call once we hear something.
All I get back is a symbol for a response, but it still warms my heart.
Gabby: <3
Her message reminds me that I have people waiting for me at home. I have a life that I can live because I was spared from being in the car with Carly that night, because I had people that would need me. My mom is going to be okay, because she has people that need her. She needs to live for us, and for herself. She’s young. She’s healthy. There’s no way she … I can’t even think it!
This can’t be happening again. There’s no way God would put me through something like this again. This can’t happen… it isn’t happening.
“Mr. James…” my father and I hear as the door opens. As we turn, we see a man in blue scrubs walk into the room. Dreary.
“Yes. That’s me. This… uh… this is my son, Benton. Benton James,” my father stammers nervously as he shakes the doctor’s hand. I follow suit, and the doctor smiles sadly.
I remember smiles like that.
“Mr. James,” he addresses my father. “I have some unfortunate news for you.”
Those words. Unfortunate news.
Unfortunate news would be a rained out ball game. Unfortunate news would be missing the train to work and being late. What’s about to come out of his mouth isn’t unfortunate news. It’s news that’s going to devastate an entire family.
I can just feel it.
“You wife is no longer with us, Mr. James,” he says empathetically. Like he’s gone through this shock before.
Shock doesn’t even register at this point. It feels like I’ve been hit with a ninety-pound barbell right in the middle of my chest. Silently sobbing next to me, my father can’t form any coherent sentences and it’s up to me to step up, but I’m having a hard time finding my breath.
“She’s gone?” I manage, fighting back tears that threaten. “Oh, God,” I whisper, slumping in my chair, feeling like I’m going to vomit. “Oh, fuck.” Moaning, I lean forward and hang my head between my knees, trying to find something… some sort of level feeling when my entire being wants to give up.
This can’t be happening.
“Mr. James, both of you, I’m so sorry for your loss. Your wife had an aortic aneurysm. It had started to burst when she got here, which is what must have caused her to fall and hit her head. Blood flow had slowed, causing her to faint. By the time we got in, and saw what we were dealing with… it was too late. She was already gone.” He purses his lips together sadly and watches us, hands clasped in front of him. Like watching an angry bear ready to attack.
I feel numb. I can’t cry, though I feel the knot welling up. I can’t get mad because I need to be here for my dad. I can’t speak, because everything that comes out is going to be anger at the man that didn’t save my mother.
“If it’s any consolation, she wasn’t in pain when she left us,” he says, standing and clearing his throat. “If you would like to say goodbye, we have her cleaned up for you. We like to give the family the option, but it’s completely up to you.”
My dad’s gaze watches him with puffy eyes, like he does not comprehend what the doctor is saying to him.
“Dad,” I whisper. “We need to tell her goodbye.”
Fuck this hurts.
He doesn’t say anything. He just shakes his head from side to side, then looks over at me, and bursts into tears again. I know his hurt. I felt the same pain when I lost Carly last year. He lost his life partner. His forever love.
“Come on, Dad,” I say, helping him stand up. Fuck, I shouldn’t be doing this right now. I shouldn’t have to tell my mother goodbye. I shouldn’t be walking back through the gates of hell again. This can’t be real. It has to be a joke.
But it’s not.
As the door to the room they are keeping her in opens, I smell it first.
Death.
The gray skin on my mother’s face doesn’t match her usual colorful life filled cheeks. Her hands, limp at the table, will never hold my baby girl again. Oh God, Hannah. Pain sears through my body at the thought of having to explain to my girl that grandma won’t be able to watch her anymore. That she won’t be here for her anymore.