Confessions of a Litigation God

by Sawyer Bennett

Page 24

  But it’s complicated because my son has single parents from a failed marriage. And not just any failed marriage. A marriage that crumbled beyond repair when the wrecking ball known as betrayal slammed into it. Marissa’s deceit had a profound effect on me, as you would imagine. It clearly has closed me off and made me averse to exploring a relationship. But it also made me super protective. Not only of my own heart, but Gabe’s as well.

  The sad truth is… I really don’t trust any other woman not to shred my heart, and I sure as hell would never trust another woman not to hurt my son.

  Ergo… that is why Mac has no clue I have a son.

  I don’t trust her enough to let her know.

  The cab driver pulls up in front of the admissions entrance of the hospital, and I hand cash to cover the fare plus tip. I slide out of the backseat, pulling my small suitcase behind me.

  Staring up at the building in front of me, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I’m here for Mac. I’m worried about her, and I have no qualms with admitting that. I do care for her. How can I not when she’s such a fantastic woman, inside and out of the bedroom?

  But there’s not much past that.

  No trust.

  No commitment past basic monogamy while we’re f**king each other, and even then, we haven’t exactly talked about that.

  No burning need to immerse myself in her life.

  No devastation if we were to go our separate ways tomorrow.

  Yes, I care for her. But not enough to invite her all the way into my life.

  Chapter 18

  I’ve been lying in this hotel bed, holding Mac in my arms for going on an hour now. She’s sound asleep, and I have no desire to let her go. I’m afraid that if I do, she’ll feel the loss of my comfort and will hurt worse than she already does, and I’m not about to let that happen.

  It’s been a brutal day today.

  When I made it to Room 4310 and looked inside, pain literally shot through me at the first glimpse of Mac. Despite her tangled hair and wrinkled clothes, she looked hauntingly beautiful in her misery and despair. She was bent over her mom’s bed, holding her hand and weeping softly. I wanted to go to her and pull her into my arms, away from the horrific circumstances lying in that hospital bed.

  But I couldn’t intrude. She was having a personal moment with her mother, and I sensed enough to know that she wouldn’t be having many more.

  When Mac finally saw me standing there, her tear-streaked face filled with grief, I couldn’t do anything but open my arms to her and let her crash into me. I held her for a while, letting her bask in the knowledge that I was there for her to lean on.

  Then I started taking care of her.

  I gently persuaded her to leave her mom for a bit so she could get something to eat. While we sat in the cafeteria, I asked Mac for all the painful details and she confirmed for me what I pretty much guessed when I saw her mom lying there.

  She would have to make some end-of-life decisions.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she told me in a quavering voice.

  “Tell me what’s going on, and we’ll talk it out. ”

  “The doctor is going to come by tonight and talk to me in more detail about her condition, but from what they’ve told me so far, she isn’t going to recover. She has minimal brain activity… The machines are keeping her alive right now. I think tonight… I think he wants to talk to me about taking her off life support. ”

  “Did your mom have a Living Will or any other health care directive?”

  I didn’t think my heart could hurt more for Mac, but the tears welled up again in her eyes and she looked so forlorn as she shook her head in the negative. “I’m so stupid. I’m a f**king lawyer, and I never thought to have my mom do one. ”

  I reached across the table and took both of her hands in mine, rubbing them soothingly. “Don’t do that to yourself. It has no purpose here to dwell on those things. ”

  Mac tried to pull herself together, because although she’s wide open and vulnerable right now, I know she’s normally not like that. She likes to be tough. I watched as she pulled her lower lip in between her teeth and bit down, causing the skin to blanche white. The physical pain must have helped orient her because with a few blinks of her eyelids, the tears evaporated.

  “Did you and your mom ever talk about this?” I asked her gently.

  “No. Not even when my dad died. He had a heart attack. It was so quick. . . We never thought about something like this happening. I never thought I’d have to make these decisions. ”

  Squeezing her hands, I say, “Okay. . . let’s figure out what your mom would want then. Tell me about her?”

  Finally, I saw a smile start to form… sentimental in nature, but producing happy memories. She turned those green eyes up to me, filled with warm thoughts of the past, and she started talking about her mom. She poured everything out to me, talking almost nonstop for an hour. When she finally exhausted herself, to me it couldn’t be any clearer. I’m confident that if her mom were able to talk to us right now, she’d tell us that she would never want to live life hooked up to a machine.

  “What about you, Matt? What would you want if this happened to you?”

  “If I was just like your mom? I’d want to be let go. ”

  Mac just nodded her head but didn’t say much more about the subject. She seemed to be processing, so I let her process.

  We spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening by her mom’s bed. Sometimes Mac would just sit there and hold her hand… sometimes she would sit next to me and we’d work on a crossword puzzle together. By the time the doctor came, I think Mac pretty much had her mind made up. The doctor took a lot of time with her, explaining her mother’s medical condition in an easy-to-understand way.

  After he left, Mac turned to me and said, “I’m going to let her go,” and my heart hurt just a little bit more for her.

  But I knew she was making the right decision.

  Mac called some family members in California to tell them… her mother’s sister I believe. They all agreed that it should be done sooner rather than later, and not to wait for the family to travel in. They didn’t want her to be on the machines any longer than necessary, so they decided to do it first thing the following morning, which gave time for her mom’s pastor and local friends to come by if they wanted.

  Mac also called Macy and had a tearful conversation. Apparently, the family members and Macy would be hopping on flights tomorrow to travel to Nashville, but they wouldn’t make it in time to say their goodbyes. Mac was prepared to shoulder that burden all on her own. I’ve no doubt her shoulders are strong enough, but it’s not something I’m about to let her do by herself.

  I intend to be with her for the end.

  Mac’s breathing is deep and even. The dark circles under her eyes showed me how tired she was, but when she fell into a deep sleep literally seconds after I pulled her into my arms, I knew that she had been beyond exhausted. My hand is stroking her back to soothe her, even though she’s so far under, I know she doesn’t feel it.

  It makes me feel better though.

  Took me forever to convince Mac to come back to the hotel with me to get some rest tonight. She didn’t want to leave her mom, especially since they planned to disconnect the next morning. She insisted she needed to stay, and the only way I got her to leave was to guilt her. I told her that her mom would want her to get some rest.

  So she showered, I fed her some more food, then I pulled my t-shirt off and dressed her for bed in it because she didn’t bring anything to sleep in. I had intended to just crawl into bed beside her and get some work done, but when I saw the sadness on her face when she laid her head on the pillow, I asked if she wanted me to hold her until she fell asleep.

  She just nodded and that was all I needed to pull her in close to me.

  I know I should let her go. She wouldn’t even know it, but
would happily turn over and stay in deep slumber. I have a ton of work to do, especially since making this spur-of-the-moment trip. Yet I can’t find it within me to let her go.

  All I keep thinking about is how hard this has to be for her, and how unequipped I really am to handle this. I just got done convincing myself on the cab ride here that Mac is special, but she’s not special enough for me to take a risk.

  If that’s the case, then what the f**k am I doing here, lying in this bed and refusing to let Mac roll out of my embrace?

  ***

  The process of letting someone die is filled with caring efficiency. When we arrived at the hospital this morning, Mac went over all of the paperwork she had to sign, asking me to read it as well. Then she spent some time alone with her mother while I waited in the hallway. When it was time to begin the process, Mac called my name and I went to her. Her eyes were dry but red, and I think she was pretty much all cried out. It made her eyes turn to a beautiful pale shade of green, but they were haunted and that’s all I could really see about her.

  As I stand beside Mac at her mother’s bedside, I notice the IVs have been removed but she’s still on the ventilator with a heart monitor beside it. It’s really hard for me to understand how she can show a steady heartbeat, yet essentially be gone. I guess that’s why Mac had such a hard time making her decision.

  The nurse turns to Mac and says, “Miss Dawson… if you’re ready, I’m going to disconnect the respirator and I’ll remove her airway. ”

  We had been prepared for this. They met with us first before preparations were made. They had told us once the ventilator was disconnected, it would take her probably thirty minutes to an hour to pass.

  Mac doesn’t respond and, as I glance down at her, I see she’s staring at her mom’s face. Her head is swathed in thick bandage that wrap all the way around and she has some slight bruising under her eyes, but past that, she looks peaceful… and ready.

  “Miss Dawson?” this nurse prompts her.

  A sob tears lose out of Mac’s throat, and I know she’s physically unable to give the go ahead. I step behind Mac and pull her backward into my body, wrapping my arms tightly around her chest. Leaning down, I murmur, “Are you ready, baby? If not, we can do this later. ”

  Without looking at the nurse, because I think it makes Mac feel too guilty, she gives me a slight nod of her head, her eyes never leaving her mom’s face.

  I turn my head and look at the nurse. “Go ahead. She’s ready. ”

  The nurse gives me an understanding smile and hits a switch on the ventilator. Immediately, the rasp and whoosh sound it was making stops and the room is utterly still and silent except for the occasional beep from the heart monitor. Tears falling from Mac’s face hit my arms, but she weeps quietly.

  The nurse quickly removes the airway tube and steps away, melting backward to wait quietly and give Mac space.

  Leaning forward, I give her a kiss on her head and loosen my hold so she can go to her mom. I pull a chair over and push Mac on her shoulder to sit down, right beside her mom’s bed. She takes her hand, kisses it, and then lays her forehead on her mom’s lap.

  I’m not going to lie… when I hear Mac say through heavy tears, in an almost a childlike voice, “I’m going to miss you so much, Mommy,” I get a slight prick of tears in my eyes because there’s something achingly beautiful about holding onto someone… talking to them… while they pass from this life. The fact that it’s Mac there mourning as her mom dies is practically killing me. I want to grab her, whisk her from this f**king tragedy of a day, and do something to make all of this pain go away, but I have no clue what to even do for her.

  So I wait, behind the chair where Mac sits. I don’t take my eyes off her and I stand there for the forty-two minutes it takes for her mom to pass. The nurse quietly walks up to the heart monitor and I glance over, seeing that she has flatlined. The nurse gently touches Mac’s shoulder and says, “She’s gone. Stay here as long as you like. ”