Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep

by Lurlene McDaniel

  “What do you think makes them that way?” she asked.

  Hella picked at some chipped paint on the armrest of the swing. “They have an amazing depth of love and respect for one another,” Hella said. “That helps. But sometimes, Carrie, parents can love their child a lot and still be unable to face watching him die.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When a teenager dies, so do his parent’s dreams and ambitions for him. That’s devastating. A parent makes so many plans around a child, and then to have everything altered by premature death—well, I’m telling you, some parents never recover.”

  “But if they really love their kid, like the Gardners do—”

  Hella interrupted. “Love is a factor, but it’s more complicated than that. After years of coping with chronic illness, parents, even good ones, can’t deal with it anymore. They just simply run out of energy. If a family isn’t especially close-knit, they can’t handle watching their teen slip away, beyond their help, beyond medical help, and often in terrible pain. So they sort of abandon him—mostly emotionally, sometimes physically. I’ve seen it happen many times.”

  “But that’s not fair! How can you stand it when parents leave a kid all alone in the hospital?”

  “I try not to judge them, Carrie. Yes, some people make lousy parents, but we don’t know how we’ll act in a situation until it happens to us. As a nurse I try to give the best care I can if the teen is left to die in the hospital, or all the support I can if he goes into the hospice program.”

  Carrie stared off into the bright, cloudless sky. She felt incredibly sad, on the brink of crying. It was more than the unfairness of Keith’s death. If only she could put it into words. “Keith seems able to accept what’s happening to him,” she said slowly. “I wish I could.”

  Hella laid her hand along Carrie’s arm. “Keith’s an extraordinary young man. He doesn’t defy, submit to, or deny his dying. In some ways he’s transcended it.”

  “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “He grieves and mourns over dying, but he also sees it as a spiritual process. He believes in an after-life, and that gives him peace and hope. It’s helping his family through the worst of it too.”

  “I—I believe in God,” Carrie said, her voice small, because she knew deep down she was pretty angry with God and felt ashamed about it. Keith had told her that God was the head umpire and had a right to call the plays because he could see the whole game. Yet she couldn’t figure out why he’d allow someone as wonderful as Keith to die so young.

  Hella smiled sweetly. “Oh, Carrie. You’re such a unique girl. When you were only eleven and I first met you, I thought you were so mature and practical. On the one hand you never tried to deceive yourself about what was happening to you, but you never gave up hope either. You adjusted to having leukemia, and you coped better than any young person I’d ever nursed.”

  Carrie knew Hella was telling her something about her parents’ failings. True, she’d seen those failings herself many times, but it hadn’t made her life easier. Some things couldn’t be changed, not her parents’ attitudes, not their divorce, not their feelings about one another. “I’m glad there’s something like hospice,” she said, picking up the thread of her original thought. “I’m glad there are people who can help people through dying, so they don’t have to be scared and alone.”

  “For me that’s what nursing’s all about, Carrie. It’s caring.”

  Just then Holly came out onto the porch. Her eyes were wide, and her face looked pale and frightened. “Mom wants you to come see Keith,” Holly said, her voice quivering. “His breathing is all crazy. Hurry. Please, hurry.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Carrie bolted after Holly and Hella into the house and down the hallway to Keith’s room. Mrs. Gardner stood beside his bed, her eyes wide with fear. “His breathing sounds funny,” she said. “It stops and starts.”

  Hella leaned down and listened. Finally she said, “It’s apnea, and it may be like this for a while. I know it’s scary, but it’s part of the process.”

  Keith’s eyes flew open just then, and he looked around the bed at their faces. “Carrie,” he said, managing a smile. “Have you been waiting long to see me? Someone should have told me you were here.”

  He’d obviously forgotten he’d seen her earlier. “Not too long,” she said. “And I told them not to wake you.”

  “Did you come for a guitar lesson?”

  “No, just to say hello.” It was hard for her not to cry.

  “But you’ve been practicing?”

  “Sure,” she lied.

  “Play something for me. Holly, get my guitar so that Carrie can play. Like at the lake.”

  She took the instrument from Holly, silently praying that she could make her fingers work on the frets. After a few false starts, she managed to pick out a tune. By the time she finished, Keith had drifted off to sleep again. She put the guitar down and looked toward Hella and Mrs. Gardner, who were talking just outside Keith’s room.

  “I’m so scared,” Mrs. Gardner whispered. “Can’t you do something? Can’t you help him?”

  “Maybe you should call Judy at hospice,” Hella said. “And your husband too.”

  To Carrie the advice sounded reassuring. The hospice people were on twenty-four-hour call, and Judy had urged the Gardners to call her anytime Keith’s condition concerned them. Mrs. Gardner nodded and went to the kitchen.

  Numbly Carrie left Keith’s room. In the hall she saw Holly was leaning against the wall, tears brimming in her eyes. “I—I thought it was all over when he started breathing that way,” she said.

  Carrie led her into her bedroom and closed the door. “Are you all right?”

  Holly sat on her bed. “My legs are shaking so bad I can hardly stand up.” She flopped backward on the bed and started crying. Carrie reached over and handed her a tissue from the box on the dresser. “I—I’m not gonna make it, Carrie. I’m not gonna be able to get through this.”

  Carrie didn’t know what to tell her, but at last she said, “You’ll make it. The others will be looking to you.” It sounded incredibly trite. She wasn’t sure she was going to make it either.

  Holly blew her nose and sat up. “I don’t think there’s gonna be any miracle,” she said miserably. “I’ve asked and asked, but either God’s not listening, or he doesn’t care.”

  “Nothing can convince me that God doesn’t care about Keith,” Carrie told her. “And as for a miracle, Keith didn’t expect one.”

  “Yeah, but I did.”

  Carrie’s heart was breaking for her. “He told me that even if a miracle happens, people still have to die. He said it happened that way for everyone, and that’s just the way things are.”

  “I know what he believes,” Holly said. “That death follows life, and after death, life again. But what about us, Carrie? What about the people who get left behind? What are we supposed to do?” As she spoke, Holly wadded the tissue and tossed it across the room into the wastebasket.

  “Maybe that’s why we have each other,” Carrie said slowly. “Maybe the best we can do during our lives is be here for one another through the bad times.”

  Holly asked, “Will you always be my friend?” Carrie nodded because she didn’t trust her voice. “Even if you have to go to some other high school than Martin?”

  “We’ll have weekends, and there’s always the phone. Plus I’ll be driving soon.” Carrie let the words out in a rush, hoping that by assuring Holly she’d find some assurance for herself. She felt as if everything were slipping away from her. Not just Keith, but everything she cared about.

  “Spend the night,” Holly blurted, grabbing Carrie’s hand. “Please stay here tonight. If Keith—” Her voice faltered. “You know, if it happens tonight, I want you here.”

  Frankly Carrie couldn’t imagine arriving in the morning and hearing secondhand that Keith had died. “All right. I’ll call my mother first,” she said, reaching for the phone. H
er mother wasn’t thrilled with Carrie’s plans to stay at the Gardners, but she didn’t argue.

  Carrie called her Dad next, and got Lynda on the phone.

  “Can I bring you anything?” Lynda asked when Carrie told of her plans.

  “I can borrow something to wear from Holly. Um—do you think Dad’s gonna be all right about it?”

  “I’ll talk to him for you.”

  “Thanks so much, Lynda. I really appreciate it.”

  “If there’s anything I can do …” Lynda said.

  “No, there’s nothing any of us can do at this point. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Carrie hung up, closed her eyes, and took deep breaths, willing herself the strength to make it through one more night.

  Carrie helped Holly and the girls prepare dinner, though no one felt much like eating. Mrs. Gardner had remained in Keith’s room along with Judy, and Mr. Gardner sat at the head of the table, without speaking. Carrie picked at her food. Jake asked his sister to butter his roll, then announced, “The frogs have eggs.”

  “What?” his father asked.

  “The frogs in the terrarium laid eggs in the pond I made for them. They’re neat looking. How long before they turn into tadpoles?”

  His question was innocent enough, but April shoved back her chair and yelled, “Who cares about your stupid old frogs! Don’t you know what’s happening? No one wants to hear about your dumb frogs.” She ran from the room in tears.

  Jake yelled after her, “Well Keith was glad when I told him! You’re just a fathead, April!”

  Mr. Gardner told Gwen to go see after her sister and told Jake to quiet down. The five-year-old stomped up the stairs and slammed his bedroom door. Holly looked helplessly toward her father. “Maybe I should go talk to him. He’s just a kid, and I don’t think he’s got a clue about what’s really happening.”

  “Go on,” Mr. Gardner told her. With Holly gone Carrie felt awkward sitting alone at the table with Mr. Gardner. He gave her a tired smile. “It seems as if the whole world’s falling apart, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Keith would have wanted us to care more about Jake’s frogs. He was that way. My God, listen to me. I’m already talking about him in the past tense.” He rubbed his hand across his eyes. “I’m going to miss my boy.” His voice had grown thick, and Carrie thought he might cry. “I’d like to go be with my wife and son. Do you mind?”

  “No, sir.” He left, and she sat alone at the table with the remains of the half-eaten dinner, her eyes glancing from place to empty place, feeling very much like a character in an abandoned fairy tale. The doorbell rang, and when no one went to the door, she did. She opened it and stared in surprise. “Mom! What are you doing here?”

  Faye smiled, but it looked forced and strained. “After you called, I started thinking that you might need some things—toothbrush, deodorant—personal stuff.” She held out a small overnight case.

  At any other time Carrie might find her deed thoughtful, but all she felt at the moment was confusion. She took the bag and set it inside the door. She thought about asking her in but decided against it. Her mother didn’t belong. Not now. Carrie stepped out onto the porch, closing the front door softly behind her. “Would you like to sit in the swing for a few minutes?” she asked.

  Her mother sat, but toward the front edge, her spine stiff. “Are you sure you need to be here, Carrie?” she blurted. “I—I mean after all, the boy’s so ill—”

  “He’s dying, Mom.”

  “It just doesn’t seem right … him dying here in his own home.”

  “I told you about hospice already. No one can do anything for Keith except make him comfortable. Mostly, hospice is here for his family. If it was me—”

  “Well, it isn’t you,” her mother interrupted. “You’re fine.” Her eyes narrowed, and she stared directly at Carrie. “You are fine, aren’t you? They didn’t say anything at the clinic you’re not telling me, did they?”

  “No, Mom. I’m fine.”

  Faye relaxed, then smoothed her skirt. “Did I tell you? I got a promotion yesterday,” she said.

  “I’m glad,” Carrie replied, not sure what her mother expected her to say.

  “Larry says I have a lot of potential with the company. I’ve come so far since the divorce, you know? I mean here I am in a leading accounting firm with a wonderful man in my life. It doesn’t seem real sometimes.”

  “So except for my cancer, life’s great, huh?”

  Faye stood, causing the swing to shimmy. She walked to the porch railing and gripped it. “I hate your cancer.” The vehemence in her voice almost took Carries breath away. “I hate it with everything that’s in me. Look how it’s messed up all our lives.”

  “I’m sorry I’m messing up your life, Mom.” Carrie said the words so quietly, she wasn’t sure her mother could even hear them.

  “My mother died from it. And so did my favorite aunt—Nora was her name. I remember how horrible it was for them. They hurt so much, and no one could help them. Not all those doctors in the hospital. No one.”

  “You never told me that before.” Carrie watched her mother’s shoulders quivering in the moonlight. She felt panicked suddenly, because she’d never once seen her mother break down. “You should have said something to me.”

  “Why? What difference would it have made?” Carrie thought of all the times she lay alone in the hospital wishing her mother was with her. “You can’t imagine what it’s like to live with the fear that someday I could get cancer too,” Faye said haltingly.

  “We’re all afraid, Mom.”

  Her mother sniffed and turned. “And then to have it happen to one of my children—well, it’s not fair. And it’s all my fault too. If I hadn’t been carrying the genes for it—well, it’s a fact that cancer runs in families. I should have been more careful about having a family.”

  Carrie felt a physical pain in her stomach. If only she’d never been born, then they all could have been spared this hurt. “Your father wanted a family, though, and so I gave up my job and everything just to please him. Then you got sick, and everything changed. But you’re doing so well. I’m just certain that you’re going to be one of the lucky ones to beat the disease.” She wiped under her eyes with the tips of her fingers and offered a brave smile. “I don’t think I could stand it if I didn’t have that hope.”

  Carrie felt numb all over. Inside the house Keith lay dying, and here on the porch in the moonlight, Carrie felt another kind of death was taking place. All at once she wanted her mother to hold her, as she’d seen Mrs. Gardner hold Keith. She wanted so bad to be cuddled. Her mother said, “I—I guess I should let you go back inside,”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” Carrie stood and edged toward the door. “Um—thanks for bringing my stuff by. I’ll call you tomorrow, before I come home.”

  “Larry’s taking me furniture shopping. I thought I’d get a new sofa and chairs for the apartment.”

  Carrie realized she didn’t want to be by herself tomorrow if Keith was gone. “Then I’ll go to Dad’s, and he can bring me home later.”

  “I’ll get something new and pretty, Carrie. I think moving will make you feel better. It’ll help put all this behind you.”

  “Sure, Mom.” Carrie turned and went inside and leaned against the doorjamb in the dimly lit foyer. A wall of tears seemed permanently dammed in the back of her throat. Why didn’t her mother understand that buying something new could never erase this night, could never take away the hurt she felt in her heart? Not just for Keith, but for herself too.

  Carrie took one last look out the window. Her mother’s car was still parked out front, and she could just make out her mother’s shape sitting behind the wheel, her face buried in her hands. A part of Carrie wanted to run to her and throw herself into her arms. But then she heard voices from the Gardners’ living room and the sounds of crying. Her heart lurched. Without another glance she hurried toward the lighted room.

  Chapter Nineteen

 
; Carrie entered and saw Keith’s family gathered together. Mrs. Gardner was crying uncontrollably, clinging to her husband and saying, “We should call an ambulance! I know if we get him to a hospital, they can help him.”

  “Judy says they can’t, honey.”

  “But he can’t breathe! He—he can’t get any air.”

  Holly was hugging her arms to her shoulders and rocking back and forth. Carrie dropped beside her chair. “What’s happening?” she asked.

  “Judy says the fluid’s building up in Keith’s lungs. It’s like he’s drowning in it.”

  “This was a mistake,” Mrs. Gardner cried. “We never should have kept him here at the house. If only we’d taken him to the hospital instead.” She clutched Mr. Gardner’s arm. “It’s not too late. We could leave right now—”

  Huddled on the sofa, April, Gwen, and Jake started to weep more loudly. Jake rushed into his mother’s arms and buried his face in her lap. “Don’t cry, Mommy. Keith’s all right. The lady said he’s still alive.”

  Mrs. Gardner held the five-year-old hard against her body. Just then Judy came into the room. Her face looked tired, but also gentle. “I put a special medicine patch on Keith to dry up his secretions,” she said kindly. “He’s breathing more easily now.”

  Mr. Gardner asked, “Should we call an ambulance and have him taken to the hospital?”

  “No hospital can help Keith now.” Judy touched Mrs. Gardner’s arm as she answered. “Nothing can stop what’s happening to your son. But it was his wish—and your wish—to have it happen here in his home in his own bed. You’ve come so far along this road. I’m here to help you any way that I can, but if you want to take him in, then please do. Only remember, he isn’t in any pain—”

  “But how do you know that?” Mrs. Gardner interrupted. “How can you be sure?”

  “He’s not restless, he’s not moaning, and his morphine levels remain high.”

  Mrs. Gardner turned tortured eyes toward her family. “What should we do? Tell me, what should we do?”