The Last Post

by Renee Carlino

  “Melissa! Where are you? What were they doing? Isn’t Kenny always naked?”

  I could hear her throwing up. “Calm down, Melissa. Talk to me.”

  When she came back on the phone, she was still heaving between sentences. “He likes to be naked, yes, but he was sitting on the side of the Jacuzzi and she was sucking his dick.” She heaved.

  “Mel, take a deep breath.”

  “Then she said, ‘Let’s go against the tree where you like fucking me.’ This wasn’t their first time.” She heaved again loudly into the phone. “I hope they get poison ivy on their genitals.”

  “Wow. Kenny went from tree hugger to tree fucker,” I mumbled under my breath. God, I had totally misread him.”

  “He told her he loved her, Micah. I threw up in the bushes and then fell and they saw me. I looked like a Peeping Tom. I’m so embarrassed and disgusted.” Now Mel was crying again. This Mel was different. She was truly and deeply saddened, maybe for the first time ever. “I screamed, ‘Leave. Get your granola and scented oils and get the fuck out of here!’ They left as fast as they could. They took my car even though I yelled at them to nature hike their way back to town. Kenny is the lowest of the low. He’s lake scum with his stupid shorts and disgusting back hair. I mean, is it too much for him to go get a wax once in a while?”

  “Okay, just stay there. I’m coming to see you. Jeff has his car right now; I’m gonna grab Dad’s and head out there. I don’t care if I have to drive all night, I’ll be there.”

  Mel sniffed, sounding small. “Jesus, sorry. I’m being a baby. Aren’t you exhausted? You don’t have to come out. I will live through this. Hell, I just got run over by a taxi. I’ll be fine.”

  “No, I’ll be there. It’s only a few hours. And, I want to kick Kenny’s ass.”

  “He’s gone; anyway, it wouldn’t be any fun. He’s a pacifist. He’d probably let you kick his ass.” And there was Mel again. “Where is Dad’s old Fiat?”

  “In storage a couple streets away. I have the keys and I’ll see you in a bit. Text me if Kenny comes back so I can stop and buy a giant slab of raw meat to throw at him.”

  “I hate how Kenny loves that stupid, one-dimensional set of legs and boobs. I bet she’d be able to wrap her legs around her head if her gigantic boobs didn’t get in the way.”

  “What are you gonna do until I get there, Mel?”

  “Double homicide.”

  “Just try and calm down. I’m leaving now.”

  “Okay.”

  I gathered some clothes and a toothbrush, threw them in a bag, and headed out the door. I was at my dad’s storage unit in less than twenty minutes. The cabby agreed to wait until I started my dad’s car in case I needed to jump-start it. Fortunately, the car started right up. I knew my dad occasionally sneaked away on the weekends to drive the piece of shit out to Coney Island. That was his little rebellion against my mother’s packed retirement calendar.

  I had a seven-hour drive in front of me. I thought about getting coffee, but I felt as if I was running out of time. A half hour in and I was fighting to stay focused on the road. Exhausted and bored, I let my mind wander to Laya’s beautiful face. My eyelids began to close.

  I pictured her lips mouthing the word Hello.

  25. Broken Wings

  LAYA

  On Facebook I saw my friend Izzy had moved into a new house. I felt guilty for not setting up lunch plans with her. She posted a picture of the house and I recognized it right away. It was on the corner lot of the street we grew up on and Izzy had always dreamt of living in it. I was glad for her.

  I knew I needed to ease myself back into the world, and Micah was helping me do that. But he hadn’t returned my call from the night before and I was trying my best to ignore that fact. I left a plant as a housewarming gift on the doorstep of Izzy’s new place. Instead of calling or sending a card, she paid me a visit at the hospital on Monday.

  It would have been too easy just to have someone tell her I’d be with patients all morning, so I sucked it up and met her in the waiting room.

  “Laya, you’re glowing,” she said. “It’s nice to see you in your element.”

  “Thank you, Izzy. But the operating room is really my element. I can’t wait to get back in there.”

  “Well, I just came by to say thank you for the plant.” She hugged me for an uncomfortably long time. “I really want to get together soon. I need a mommy escape once in a while.”

  Izzy wasn’t a bad person. She cared about me and I cared about her, too. At the time of Cameron’s death and the chaos that followed, I didn’t seek out contact with friends. I shut down. I found ways to eliminate people from my life. I was scared everyone would drop dead around me.

  “Yes, we can definitely plan something. Let me walk you out.”

  We headed toward the entrance when I saw Melissa standing near the check-in desk. When I got closer, I noticed she was crying on the shoulder of a man. The father, from what I remembered.

  I grabbed my phone from my pocket to see if Micah had called or texted. “I have to go,” I said to Izzy. I gave her an abrupt hug before turning quickly on my heel.

  “Um okay. Well, bye, Laya!” she shouted, irritated.

  “I’m sorry. I just have to go,” I shot back.

  As I approached Melissa, I noticed their mom was sitting in a chair behind her. She was sobbing into her hands and saying, “Why?” over and over again. The scene was all too familiar to me.

  Melissa looked up. “Oh, Laya,” she cried.

  “What’s going on?”

  “It’s Micah.”

  My heart dropped to the floor and my body followed soon after. The doctor in me was nowhere to be found. I had nothing left . . . no argument, no hope . . . I already knew what they were going to tell me. Of course the dark cloud that followed me would eventually produce a thunderstorm to wipe out anything positive in my life. Of course it was too good to be true that a man with patience, kindness, and a loving demeanor would come along and brighten the dark path I was on, only to be taken away just as fast.

  His voice echoed in my mind, sending a whole new wave of guilt and regret through me.

  “I’m sorry to say, Laya, but your theory is horseshit. I don’t care about your superstition. I’ll take my chances.”

  My eyes locked on the pain-stricken faces of Melissa and Micah’s father as he hovered over me. He reached a hand out to pull me up, but I was shaking uncontrollably. “Miss, are you okay?”

  Melissa knelt beside me. “What’s happened?” I asked her.

  “Micah . . . Micah was in a car accident. He was driving in the middle of the night to stay with me at my house.” She burst into tears again. Still on the floor, I reached out and took her in my arms. I could feel her pain coupled with mine. Micah and I hadn’t gotten a chance to really know each other. He’d never been able to scale the wall I had put up. Maybe only in his death would I realize how badly I wanted him in my life.

  Once I was finally in a chair, trying to get my breath back, I realized how much Micah looked like his father. I could see all the love his family had for him. The love made them somehow so beautiful to me, even though they were all facing a major tragedy.

  I wanted so badly to find the right words to say, but I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t console them. I didn’t know how.

  “We met when Melissa was in the hospital. I’m Peter and this is my wife, Leslie.”

  “I know,” I managed to get out. “Where is he?” I needed to see him no matter what, even if they had taken him to the morgue already.

  “He’s in surgery right now,” Peter said.

  My eyes opened wider and a weight lifted from my chest. It was the unfamiliar feeling of hope. It’s accurate to say I had expected something else; who would have blamed me?

  “What kind of surgery?” I asked.

  Peter, being the most composed of the three, began to explain. “His head smashed the windshield just before he was thrown from the car.” As he spoke
, a deep agonizing moan came from Leslie, who was seated behind Peter. “Micah has a brain injury. We’re not sure how serious it is. Just praying.”

  “His leg is shattered. The same leg as mine,” Melissa added.

  “We’re in the dark. We don’t really know what his prognosis is. I don’t know if my son will live or ever be the same.” Peter finally broke down and started to cry.

  I stood up slowly, my mind working overtime, logic pushing out the flood of emotions that passed through me. My doctor brain had returned with a vengeance. Micah wasn’t dead. As horrible as his injuries sounded, he was alive. “They have to tell you the worst possible scenario. Any brain injury is serious and hard to predict,” I said, trying my best to stay stoic and strong.

  Leslie sobbed loudly again and sunk even farther into the dirty waiting-room chair. I wondered if I was saying the right words. I wanted to give them some kind of hope without false expectations.

  “Which bone in his leg is shattered?” I asked, determined.

  “His femur,” Melissa said. I shook my head, knowing if he made it, he had a tough road ahead of him. Procedures started running through my mind.

  “I need to go speak with the team treating him.”

  After asking around, I was pointed in Dr. Lee’s direction. I had known Dr. Lee since childhood. He’d operated on my mother when she had the aneurysm. Dad always told me Dr. Lee worked tirelessly to save my mother the night she died, but it was too late. My father’s firm eventually designed a special wing for neurosurgery in my mother’s name. I never visited that wing. It was painful to be there, and now I had another tragedy to add as a reminder. I felt like a defective human being, a living bad omen.

  In the operating hall, I caught sight of Joe, Dr. Lee’s physician’s assistant, who was removing his surgical gown.

  “Joe, I need to know the status on the patient in surgery.”

  He scowled. “Why? What are you doing down here?”

  “I know him . . . Micah Evans. I know him, do you hear me?”

  Joe put his arms up to block me as I tried to push my way past him. “Laya, stop.”

  “I need to see him.”

  “You know the rules here, Laya. Lee is closing him up.”

  “I need to see him!” I said loudly. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “We had to perform a craniotomy. He had a subdural hematoma.”

  “Was he awake? Was he talking before you took him in?”

  Joe shook his head. “He was stable but unconscious when we started the anesthesia. He coded three times.”

  “Jesus. What did you do?”

  “The team brought him back, but he was down for a long time. It’s hard to say what kind of obstacles he’ll be facing if he makes it out of this.” He paused. “Have you met with the orthopedic team?”

  “No, I just found out he was here. When can I see him?”

  Dr. Lee came into the hallway, looking composed but in deep thought. He was a pragmatic person . . . he always cut to the chase, sometimes abrasively, but he was a good man, a dedicated genius in his field. I had always admired him. And now Micah’s life was in his hands.

  “I know him, Dr. Lee.”

  “He’s not out of the woods. I have to open him back up. Scrub back in, Joe,” Dr. Lee said.

  “Can you tell me anything else, please?” I said, still trying to catch my breath.

  “The CAT scan just came back and we didn’t get all of it. His brain is still bleeding. I need to get back in there, Laya.”

  “Can I scrub in?”

  He looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language.

  “I mean, can I just be in the room?” I asked.

  “Absolutely not. You know the patient, and I can’t have you emotionally compromised.”

  “I’m calm. It might help if I’m in there.”

  “No,” he answered firmly. “I know you’re worried, but you can’t go in there. Meet with the ortho team; he’s going to knee surgery.”

  I couldn’t leave Micah now. I settled with pacing the hall, eyes alternating between the floor and the door that separated us.

  Come on, Micah, I chanted in my head.

  After an hour my hands started shaking, I felt light-headed. A young candy striper walked down the end of the hall and I shouted, “Hey, do you have any candy?”

  She walked up to me, smiling, and looked at my name badge. “No, Dr. Bennett, that’s not really what I do. I’m a hospital volunteer.”

  “Oh right! It’s just my blood sugar is low.”

  She dug around in her pocket and pulled out a piece of gum with a tattered wrapper that likely hadn’t seen the light of day in months. “This is all I have.”

  “Perfect, thank you.” I started frantically chewing it while the girl just stared at me.

  “Is there anything else I can do?” she asked.

  “Yes, can you please check on the Evans family in the waiting room. See if they need anything. Their son and brother is the one having brain surgery at the moment.”

  “No problem,” she said before walking away.

  After another hour of waiting, I slumped down against the wall, thinking I’d find a way to sleep here somehow. But right then Dr. Lee emerged. “How is he?”

  He shook his head at the sight of me. In any other situation, he would have reprimanded me. “Laya, I know you’ve been through a lot, but you have to calm down. We did everything possible. We’ll have to see when he wakes up.” There he was—no nonsense, not quite completely devoid of emotion, just focused. I was embarrassed to think about my state a couple of hours ago.

  “I’m sorry, Dr. Lee, for what happened before. I . . . wasn’t thinking straight. You were right; it wasn’t a good idea for me to be in there.”

  He offered me a small smile. “I wouldn’t say it like that. I didn’t want you in the room because of your relationship with the patient. But for every other circumstance, I would have let you in.” He paused, as if letting his words sink in. “I’ve studied your history in the operating room. You have a gift and you need to start using it.”

  “I have the gift of dooming all the people in my life,” I mumbled.

  He ignored me. “Come and talk to the family with me,” he said. Behind him, I sighed in relief. Micah was okay for now.

  Melissa, Leslie, and Peter were in the waiting room at the end of the hall. Through the glass windows I could see Melissa hunched over with her head between her knees, like she was hyperventilating. Leslie rubbed her back while Peter leaned against the wall. He stood up straight as soon as we entered the room.

  “Please have a seat,” Dr. Lee said. All three of them were staring intently at us. “Micah is stable, but we have a waiting game ahead of us now. I did everything I could to ensure Micah would have the best chances at making a promising recovery.”

  “What are we waiting for? How will we know that he’s all right?” Melissa asked.

  “We’re waiting for your brother to wake up,” I said.

  “When can we see him?” Peter asked.

  “You’ll be able to see him by the end of the day,” Dr. Lee replied. “Continue saying prayers. That’s all I can tell you at this point.” He reached out to squeeze Melissa’s hand. I admired him for being both realistic and comforting.

  Dr. Lee left, saying that he would check in with the orthopedic team. It was just the four of us now. Melissa said nothing to me. I sensed a shift in her—she had threatened me when she was a patient, but it was a joke, a part of her snarky personality. But now I felt like she wanted to attack me with words. “Let’s go to the cafeteria,” she finally said to her mom and dad.

  “I can’t eat, Melissa,” Leslie said.

  “We just need to get outta here.” Melissa shot me a dirty look.

  “Melissa, wait!” I said. I pulled her aside in the hallway, away from her parents. “I’m sorry.”

  She refused to look at me. I saw a bit of Micah in her profile. “I knew you were bad news.”

 
; Tears welled up in my eyes. Even though I said it myself before, it hurt a thousand times over to hear someone else say it. “I understand how you feel.”

  “You’re leaving a path of destruction and my brother had to get caught up in it.”

  I breathed in, trying to contain myself. “I know how badly this must hurt and scare you.”

  “He’s part of me, Laya!” she shouted. “This isn’t fair! My life is falling apart and now I’m losing my brother.”

  “You haven’t lost him. I’m going to do everything I can to help.”

  “No! Stay away. Far away!” She stormed off down the hall. Her parents followed, shooting identical looks of confusion, without saying anything. The first time we met, it was Leslie who didn’t trust me, and now it was Melissa’s turn. They went into the elevator, and as the doors shut, I saw Leslie holding her daughter close.

  Dr. Lee broke my trance as he emerged from around the corner. “Laya, get downstairs. The orthopedic team is meeting now.” I finally noticed a call on the speaker overhead requesting I report to the second floor. I pushed away Melissa’s words; I couldn’t let them affect me now.

  But my steps grew heavier as I shuffled toward the stairwell. On the landing for the third floor, I collapsed onto the top step. Why was this happening to me? The sound of my cries echoed around me and a part of me just wanted to stay there, hidden.

  In the back of my mind, Cameron’s voice came through, surprising me. Pick yourself up. Don’t be scared. He’d said this when I fell mountain biking. I was terrified, paralyzed by the idea of not being in control.

  Fear was like a new feeling I discovered after I started dating Cameron. Growing up, even in college, I never felt that kind of fear so I never had to learn to overcome it. Cameron had taught me how to face it and stay strong through it.

  Eventually, I did get up as the image of Micah came to mind. He wouldn’t want to see me like this. I headed to the second-floor conference room. When I walked in, all the other doctors’ eyes shot to where I was standing. “What’s she doing here?” said one of the hospital administrators.

  I squared my shoulders and said, “They called me down.” I shouldn’t have had to explain my presence in my own department.