The Color of a Memory

by Julianne MacLean

  Inclining my head, I stood up and held out my hand. “That sounds like an offer I simply can’t refuse.”

  * * *

  Those were the happiest days of my life, when Alex and I were newlyweds. All my doubts and fears about his ability to be a good husband fell away, and I let myself fall. I loved him deeply and passionately with every inch of my soul, and had no regrets about rushing into this marriage.

  At the time, I believed it was the best and bravest thing I’d ever done—to take that leap of faith and just believe.

  * * *

  Two months later I discovered I was pregnant again. I lost the baby, however, in a painful miscarriage that left me devastated—so much so, that my mother had to come and stay with us for two weeks to help take care of Wendy.

  Alex was strong for the both of us, but I knew how disappointed he was, especially when we found out it was a boy.

  “We’re young,” he said. “We’ll have another. We’ll have as many as we want.”

  The doctor assured us there was no permanent damage from the miscarriage. He told me I’d be able to conceive again as soon as we were ready.

  I couldn’t imagine ever being ready, though, because I was still so grief-stricken.

  But I tried to imagine it. Every day I made a sincere effort, looked into my daughter’s eyes and strove to see the future.

  It was impossible, of course. There were no crystal balls. All I could do was thank God for the present and cherish the blessings I already had.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Not long after Wendy’s second birthday, I began to notice subtle differences in Alex’s behavior.

  We’d been trying to have another baby for a while, but for some reason it hadn’t happened and I was beginning to feel anxious. What if the doctor was wrong? What if something bad happened to me when I miscarried? What if he missed something?

  Or maybe Alex and I were simply fated to have only one child. I hoped that wouldn’t be the case because we both wanted a big family. Three children at least. Maybe four or five if we had the energy.

  But here we were…month after month…unable to conceive.

  “Just give it time,” everyone said to me. “Don’t worry. It will happen when it’s meant to happen.”

  But I wanted it to happen now. I was tired of waiting.

  And I was worried about Alex.

  * * *

  Distracted.

  That’s the word I would use to describe him in the weeks following Wendy’s second birthday.

  I asked him if I had done or said something wrong, but he assured me everything was fine. Nevertheless I felt a distance between us I’d never felt before, and it made me feel empty and lonely inside.

  I wondered if it was me. I hadn’t been myself since the miscarriage. I even began to wonder if I was depressed. Then I realized it had been ages since Alex and I had gone out on a proper date, laughed together, or made love. I certainly smiled less often—and of course being a mother to a busy two-year-old was exhausting. It had been a long time since I’d felt the least bit sexy.

  I told myself this was normal for new parents. I also knew it wasn’t just me. Alex seemed exhausted too. One night he looked particularly pale, so I asked if he’d been to see a doctor lately.

  He told me not to worry; he wasn’t sick. He was just busy at work.

  I wouldn’t have worried at all if he hadn’t started coming home late most nights.

  Whenever I asked what had kept him, he seemed caught off guard. Then he explained that he was taking an online course to upgrade his firefighter certification and didn’t want to bring his work home with him.

  Naturally I gave him the benefit of the doubt because I didn’t want to be paranoid. I didn’t want to go back to the uncertainties I’d felt when we were dating.

  Later I would realize it was a mistake to have done so. I should have pressured him to tell me the truth. It would have saved me a lot of grief later on.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Sometimes it seems remarkable how certain moments of our lives stand out from all the others with striking clarity, and are burned into our memories forever.

  Take, for instance, the collapse of the twin towers. Most of us remember exactly where we were when we learned of it.

  Sometimes it’s a single moment from your childhood which is vivid and clear, while all the others fade into the blurred tapestry of our past.

  There is one memory I have of my grandfather giving me a dime to go to the candy store down the street from where he and my grandmother lived. Whenever I recall the thrill of seeing that shiny coin drop into my small hand, it feels like something out of a dream. Other times it feels like it happened only yesterday. It had been more than a decade since we buried my grandfather. He was a kind and wonderful man.

  The other memory that will never fade from my mind occurred on the day I received the life-changing phone call from David. I don’t know how I managed to survive it. I suppose it was Wendy who helped me get through it all. Because of her, I had no choice but to stay strong.

  * * *

  The ring tone made me jump.

  I’d been wandering down the breakfast aisle in the grocery store when I fumbled to answer my cell phone. “Hello?”

  “Hi Audrey? It’s Cathy. Are you watching the news?”

  “No, I’m getting groceries,” I replied. “Why? What’s happening?”

  I tossed a box of cereal into my cart and shifted the phone from one ear to the other. Wendy leaned over the side of the cart to reach for one of the sugary cereals in a colorful box, but I whispered, “Not that one,” and helped her sit up straight again.

  “A bomb went off in an office building downtown,” Cathy explained.

  I stopped in my tracks.

  “All the Manchester engines are there,” she continued, “and they think it might be a terrorist attack. They’re not sure, though. It could also have been some idiot teenager.”

  “Oh God,” I said. “Do you see Alex?”

  “It’s impossible to make anyone out,” she replied. “All the firefighters are there in full gear, so he must be there. It looks really bad.”

  Suddenly needing to hear Alex’s voice and know that he was okay, I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m going to hang up and call him on his cell,” I said. “He probably won’t answer, but I have to try.”

  “Call me right back,” she said.

  My stomach churned as I speed-dialed his number, but I was put through to voice mail.

  “Hi Alex, it’s me. I heard about the bomb. Please call when you get a chance so I know you’re okay.”

  I ended the call and took a few deep breaths, then hurried to the checkout and called Cathy back.

  * * *

  The rest of the day was its own version of hell. I tried to get downtown to the fire but all the streets had been closed off, so I drove to Cathy’s house to watch the footage on television. The explosion made national headlines and a reporter from CNN was on the scene.

  I searched for Alex among the chaos, but it was impossible to recognize any individual firefighter because they all wore bulky coats, helmets and face masks. A number of them were operating hoses from the parking lot, and it was reported that some had gone inside the burning building to look for survivors.

  Please, God, keep him safe. I quietly prayed while Wendy toddled around Cathy’s living room, oblivious to what was happening on television.

  I watched with bated breath as one of the reporters interviewed witnesses and spoke to a woman who worked in the building. She’d gone out for a brief walk in the fresh air during her break when the bomb went off.

  “You must be living under a shining star,” the reporter said.

  The woman burst into tears because there was still no word about her coworkers.

  I, too, wanted to burst into tears, but I kept it together. “I wish he’d call me,” I said to Cathy.

  “He will,” she replied. “I’m sure you’ll hear something s
oon.”

  * * *

  I was standing at Cathy’s kitchen island when my cell phone rang in the back pocket of my jeans.

  The vibration caused me to jump and I scrambled to reach my phone. Checking the call display, I was disappointed to see that it wasn’t Alex. It was a number I didn’t recognize.

  Just then the news correspondent on television appeared on screen to report that a floor had just collapsed in the building, and they weren’t sure yet if any firefighters had been in that location at the time.

  “Hello?” I said.

  “Audrey, is that you?”

  I didn’t recognize the man’s voice. There was a lot of noise in the background. “Yes, it’s me,” I replied. “Who’s this?”

  “It’s David,” he said. “Where are you?”

  “I’m at Cathy’s house. What’s going on?”

  “Oh, God. It’s bad. You better get down to the hospital right away. They just took Alex away in an ambulance.”

  My heart rate skyrocketed. “What? What happened? Is he all right?”

  “I don’t know,” David replied. “He was in the building when the floor collapsed but they pulled him out. He’s in bad shape, Audrey. He’s unconscious.”

  “Oh, no…” I cupped my forehead in a hand. My gaze shot to Cathy who was sitting on the sofa with Wendy on her lap.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  I shook my head at her and finished talking to David. “Thanks for calling me. I’m heading to the hospital now. Be safe, okay?”

  “I will,” he replied.

  We ended the call and I shoved the phone back into my pocket. “Can you watch Wendy? Alex was in the building when the floor collapsed. They just took him to the hospital.”

  “Of course,” she replied with concern, standing up with Wendy in her arms. “Do you need me to go with you?”

  “Not right now.” I crossed the room to grab my jacket and purse. “I’m sure they’ll be needing help at the hospital, so I might not be back for a while. I’ll call as soon as I know something.”

  With that I kissed Wendy on the forehead and hurried out the door.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  I arrived in the ER and I found Alex in the trauma room. He was lying on a backboard with a neck brace and had just been intubated.

  “What’s happening?” I asked. “What can I do?”

  Dr. O’Brien shot me a look. “You should wait outside, Audrey.”

  I stared at him with stricken eyes. “No. I need to be here. Let me help.”

  “No way,” he firmly said, then he paused, and his voice softened. “You can stay, but only if you stand back.”

  I quickly nodded and backed up against the door.

  My heart had been pounding with absolute terror since I left Cathy’s house. Now that I was here, I understood why Dr. O’Brien didn’t want my help. As I watched him work quickly and skillfully on my husband, my stomach burned and I feared I might be sick.

  “There’s a large contusion at the left temple,” Dr. O’Brien said, “and an open wound in the occipital area. There’s some movement with the bone so it looks like an open skull fracture.”

  I covered my mouth with a hand to keep from crying out because I knew how serious that was, and I was afraid they’d force me to leave if I became hysterical.

  I had thought, coming in here, that I could maintain my composure—I was well accustomed to urgent trauma cases—but this was very different. It was my husband on the table. My husband.

  “Mr. Fitzgerald,” Dr. O’Brien said, leaning over him. “Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?”

  Alex offered no response.

  The doctor pressed on Alex’s nail beds and used his knuckles to bear down on his sternum. Again there was no motor response, not even any show of posturing.

  I watched as the team set up the portable X-ray machine and took pictures of Alex’s chest, pelvis, legs and C-spine. Both his legs had been shattered, but thankfully there was no internal bleeding, nor any damage to his spine.

  Dr. O’Brien addressed a nurse, Maureen, one of my closest friends in the ER. “We need to prep him for a CAT scan.”

  Just then, the clerk, Jeremy, pushed through the door. “We have three more traumas coming in, and we’re going to need all the help we can get.”

  Dr. O’Brien turned to me. “Can you keep it together, Audrey? Can you go with Jeremy?”

  “Yes, I’m fine, but why don’t I take Alex to the CAT scan?”

  “No,” he replied. “Maureen will do that, but you can help with the other traumas if you’re sure you’re up for it.”

  I heard sirens wailing outside the ER and watched the team rush out of the room. “I’m sure, but I’ll need to know what’s going on with Alex. Will you promise to keep me informed?”

  “I will.”

  I accepted his reply and forced myself to focus on the urgent cases that were about to land in the ER. Quickly I ran to change into a pair of scrubs.

  * * *

  One of the trauma cases turned out to be a coworker of Alex’s named Jim who had been a guest at our wedding. He was the least serious case—brought in for smoke inhalation and a broken collarbone—and he was able to relay some details about what happened to Alex.

  Jim said there were no flames in the area where Alex had been injured. He’d gone in looking for one of the other firefighters they’d lost contact with. Alex had found him in a restroom with a woman who was locked in a stall, petrified and refusing to come out.

  That’s when the ceiling collapsed on top of them. Alex had pushed the other firefighter out of the way when a steel girder came down. The woman was rescued, but they had to bring in the Jaws of Life to rescue Alex.

  As far as Jim knew, Alex had been knocked unconscious and hadn’t woken up, not even when they were pulling him out of the wreckage.

  * * *

  Though I maintained a professional focus for the next hour, in my mind I was screaming.

  “Any news?” I asked Maureen when she returned to the floor.

  “Not yet,” she said, “but the radiologist is looking at the scans now.”

  My chest throbbed. The fact that Alex’s legs were shattered meant a long, arduous road of treatment and recovery—but that was the best case scenario. What if there was irreparable damage to his brain? What if he never woke up at all?

  A short while later, Dr. O’Brien found me in the supply room where I had gone to fetch some sterile coated sutures.

  “Audrey, can I talk to you?” He shut the door, which caused my stomach to drop.

  Somehow—I don’t know how—I found the courage to face him squarely.

  “We’ve looked at the scans,” he told me, “and the news isn’t good.” He paused and looked down at the suture packages in my hands. “You probably shouldn’t be working right now.” He took them from me and set them back on the shelf. “We can handle things from here. You’re going to need to focus on your family.”

  Taking a deep breath to smother the panic rising up inside me, I dropped my hands to my sides. “Why? Tell me the truth and please don’t sugarcoat it. I need to know everything.”

  Though it was not easy to hear, I was thankful that he spoke frankly.

  “I’m sorry to tell you this,” he said, “but your husband has suffered a massive brain trauma. There’s blood and clot everywhere, and it’s going to be impossible for him to come back from damage that severe.”

  My hands began to shake, but I strove to keep my voice steady. “Surely there must be some hope? Is there not even the smallest chance that he could come out of it?”

  Dr. O’Brien shook his head. “I’m sorry, there’s none. His entire left hemisphere is pulverized. I can show you the scans if you like. His brain just isn’t salvageable. He’s not coming back.”

  It took a moment or two for the words to sink in, then my entire body turned to pulp and my knees buckled. I dropped to a sitting position on the floor and began to weep.

  Dr. O
’Brien knelt on one knee before me and laid a hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry. He was a good man.” He gave me a moment to get over the shock and collect myself, then he reached for a box of tissues on the shelf beside us and opened it. He handed me one and I blew my nose. “I’m so sorry,” he said again. “Is there anyone we should call?”

  “I already called Alex’s parents,” I told him. “They were in Boston today but they’re on their way here now.”

  I wiped the last few tears from my cheeks, then Dr. O’Brien offered a hand to help me rise.

  “Thank you,” I said. “You’ve been very kind.”

  He was quiet for a moment, then spoke gently. “I know it’s hard to think about this right now, but outside of Alex’s brain injury and his legs, his body is healthy and strong. He was a hero in this lifetime, Audrey—but he could still save more lives if you’re willing to consider organ donation. I hope you’ll think about it.”

  I nodded my head, but my mind had gone blank. I wasn’t capable of making a decision like that—not now when I couldn’t even fathom the idea of losing my husband, the man I loved…the father of my child.

  I was in shock.

  As I walked out of the supply room, all I could do was focus on finding a place to sit down before I collapsed again.

  Two Years Later

  Another Life…

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Nadia Carmichael

  If there is one thing I believe in, it is the strength of the human heart.

  My name is Nadia Carmichael and I am the grateful recipient of a gift from a man named Alex Fitzgerald—a man who died and gave his heart to a stranger.

  Just over two years ago, when I was pregnant with my daughter, Ellen, I contracted a mysterious virus that attacked my heart muscle and sent me into cardiac failure.

  To this day I am still amazed that my own heart managed to function long enough and well enough for me to give birth to my beautiful baby by C-section. And then, within a month I was lucky enough to receive word that a suitable donor heart had become available.