by B. N. Toler
A sob broke out of nowhere, and I jerked my head. Helen stood several feet away, her face wet with tears. I’d unlocked the door when she’d texted earlier saying she was on the way so she wouldn’t have to knock and wake Waverly.
“Oh Liam,” she gasped. “This is so unfair.”
Clearing my throat, I struggled to gain my composure. I had a long day ahead of me, and these women needed me to be strong, to be the rock. If it all ended for me that day, that’s what I wanted to give them.
“Come here, Helen,” I told her. She practically flew to me and sat beside me. We sat back on the couch, and I held her and Pim as Helen sobbed. Even for such a young age, Pimberly seemed to understand that something big was happening. She would pat Helen’s arm and gurgle something that sounded like, “it’s okay,” and when Helen continued to cry she tried peek-a-boo to cheer her up. Through the tears and sobs, Helen did laugh.
“It’s not fair,” Helen wept. “None of this is fair.”
I squeezed her, struggling for the right words. Today wasn’t a day to just listen to her. Today she needed to hear it would be okay. I just had to make her believe it.
“You know,” I began. “After the accident, before I went unconscious, you were the last person I thought of.”
Raising her gaze to mine, she asked, “Really?”
“I thought about how I hadn’t seen you in so long and how mad you must’ve been at me, and now you would have to come down and identify my body. I hated myself for that.”
“I missed you,” she murmured. “Coming to the hospital and seeing you in the bed like that was the worst day of my life.”
“I know it was,” I agreed. “I’m sorry I did that to you. I hope you know I never could’ve gotten through this without you, Hel. I’m grateful, little sis. I’m grateful you’re my sister, that I had you to help me through something no one else would have believed and for the chance to get to say . . .” I paused, knowing this would be hard for her to hear.
“Goodbye?” she croaked.
“Yeah, Hel. Goodbye. We don’t know what will happen today, but we should be prepared for the worst—expect the worst and hope for the best. If I do die, I want to have said all the things I needed to say to you. As hard as this is, I feel so blessed to have the chance to say it to you.” Kissing the top of her head, I went on, “All those nights on the street I felt so sorry for myself. I felt like I had nothing, but I was wrong. If being Max has taught me anything, it’s taught me that. I had someone who, come what may, would always love me and always have my back. I had you. Having someone like that is worth more than all the money in the world.”
“I’ll always have your back, Liam. Always.”
“I know that. I knew it then too. I just . . . I hated to disappoint you.”
“You’ve never been a disappointment to me. Ever,” Helen reiterated, as she wiped at her nose.
I held her a bit longer as she cried. “Talk to me, okay,” I told her. “You won’t see me, but I’ll be listening Hel. Whenever you need to talk, I’ll be listening.”
Her body shook with quiet sobs, shredding my insides, and when she finally seemed to calm down, she sat up and wiped at her face. “I’ll get some breakfast started for this one,” she announced as she nodded her head in Pim’s direction. “You want some pancakes little one?”
Pim reached her arms out for Helen, and we both laughed. This kid loved to eat. Helen stood and picked her up. “We’ll be in the kitchen.”
After they were out of sight, I went in the bedroom to wake Waverly, but found she was already up. She was just coming out of the bathroom as I entered.
A faint smile took her lips as she blushed at the sight of me. I couldn’t stop myself from grinning. She was stunning. “Good morning, beautiful.”
“Good morning,” she replied quietly as she pushed some hair behind her ear.
Walking up to her, I gave her a chaste kiss. “How are you feeling?”
“A little sore,” she admitted, and I frowned. I had been a little rough at times the previous night, but I never meant to hurt her. “In the best way, though,” she quickly clarified, easing my concern.
“Helen is making Pim pancakes,” I informed her.
“I wanted to get up early and make you breakfast.”
Pulling her to me, I held her. “That’s okay. I don’t have much of an appetite this morning.”
Burrowing her head into my chest, she took a few slow breaths, inhaling deeply as if trying to calm herself. “Last night was . . .” she paused. I didn’t think it was because she was searching for what she wanted to say next but rather trying not to cry as she said them.
“The best night of my life,” I told her. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am. For all of it, Waverly. You need to know, no matter what happens, you are an amazing woman, and you deserve only the best.”
She sniffled as she reached up and fisted my shirt. “I wish I knew why,” she rasped.
“I do, too,” I admitted as I rubbed her back. “Well, I did, but now, I don’t care why. Not anymore. Because if it hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have met you.”
Pulling away from me, she wiped under her eyes. Then she lifted her glossed-over gaze to meet mine. “No regrets, Liam. I don’t have one. No matter what.”
Taking her hand, I squeezed it, praying silently for the strength to get through this day. “Let’s go eat breakfast with Pim. I want to spend every second I can with my three favorite ladies.”
“As you wish,” she murmured.
The reality of the day hung heavy in the air. Even as we managed to navigate through the morning, it never left my mind. There was an unspoken agreement between Helen and me; we would do our damnedest to give Liam the best last day of his life. None of us knew for sure what was going to happen when Liam’s body was taken off life support, but we were preparing for the worst because in the deck of life, it seemed most likely we would be dealt the worst cards. That wasn’t the pessimist in me—it was the realist.
Matt texted, asking to pick Pim up at ten, and I replied telling him I’d meet him in front of the apartment building. I didn’t need him coming in and making another scene. It wasn’t Matt’s fault; he was only trying to be a good brother, but I couldn’t deal with his anger that day. It was too much. I owed him a million apologies, but they would have to wait.
Liam walked us to the elevator, holding Pim tightly to his chest. His mouth was pressed in a hard line and though he tried not to show how painful it was, I could see it strewn across his face. Squeezing his eyes closed, he inhaled deeply through his nose as if he was trying to breathe her in. “I love you, little sweetheart,” he rasped quietly. “Thank you,” he went on, “a million times, thank you.”
My eyes burned with tears as I watched him kiss her forehead then hand her to me. Pim’s eyes seemed to droop. She may not have understood what was going on, but she knew something was wrong.
“Liam,” she cooed as she reached a hand out for him. He took it as he swallowed hard, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he did, before he kissed it, then looked at me, his gaze glossed and riddled with apology before he spun on his heel and hustled back to the apartment. He couldn’t take it anymore, and I didn’t fault him one bit when he didn’t turn back as Pim cried because I knew he couldn’t. It was breaking his heart.
When I met Matt out front, I was barely holding it together. He glanced at my face and grimaced. Pim was still crying and he took her and began trying to shush her.
“You okay?” he asked.
I couldn’t speak. Was I okay? I hardly knew. Everything felt like it was about to fall apart, and it had only just started to come together. It was too much to explain and even if it weren’t, I couldn’t. So, I nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Can we talk tomorrow?”
“You’re okay with me keeping her tonight?”
“Of course, Matt,” I choked out, fighting with every fiber of my being not to cry in front of him.
“Waverly?” he questioned, his forehead creased with worr
y.
I held a hand up, stopping him and buying myself a few seconds to manage the task of forming words without it coming out in sobs. “I’m fine,” I told him, nodding a little too enthusiastically.
“I know last night was . . . ugly,” he dropped his head. “I was just worried. You and Pim are the only family I’ve got. I’m protective of that.”
“Matt,” I sniffled. “I’m sorry, too. I promise I will explain all of this to you, but I . . . I just can’t right now.”
He bobbed his head a few times in understanding.
“I’ll call and check on her later.” Kissing Pim quickly, I rushed back inside and stopped just before the elevator. I couldn’t hit the call button, not until I got myself together. I was blinded by hurt and an immense fear of the unknown. It hurt to think of the situation—the man I loved trapped in Max’s body. It hurt to think of Liam dying; leaving me when we’d only just found one another. But what hurt the worst was watching him walk to his likely death, with so much hurt himself, while he tried to remain strong for us. It was awful to witness.
“Ma’am?” Glancing up, I found Braxton with a compassionate smile as he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to me. “It’s clean.”
Taking it, I wiped at my face and nose. “I’m going to have to buy you a box of these.”
“I have a million,” he chuckled. “Get a box for my birthday and Christmas every year.” Watching me for a moment, frowning, he asked, “Forgive me if I’m intruding, ma’am, but is everything okay?”
I nodded a few times. “Just . . . have a hard day ahead,” I answered as I hit the call button. Braxton was a kind man for checking on me, but I didn’t want to cry in front of him. I didn’t like people seeing me vulnerable, especially strangers.
“Anything I can help with?” he inquired. The elevator doors slid open, and he held his hand out to hold them open for me.
“I don’t think so, Braxton,” I murmured as I stepped in.
“Well, let me know if there is.” With a tip of his hat, he backed away, and the doors began to close. Jolting my arm out, I stopped them as he turned to walk away.
“Braxton,” I called. He spun back around to face me.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“If you’re a praying man,” I said quietly, “pray for a miracle.”
He narrowed his eyes as he tilted his head. “Yes, ma’am.”
The three of us walked to the hospital. It was hot as hell out, but I wanted to be outside one more time, feel the sun on my face one more time. We were quiet. No one spoke a word. After all, what do you say to a dead man walking?
Once we reached the hospital and were standing outside the room, we were approached by a nurse with long copper-colored hair tied back in a high ponytail.
“Good morning,” she smiled sadly.
“Max,” Helen cut a look to me, “this is Kym. She’s been Liam’s daytime respiratory therapist since he arrived here.”
“Oh,” I nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, Kym.”
“I wish it were under better circumstances,” she said as we shook hands. Looking to Helen, she said, “We did three EEG’s again, and there was no sign of brain activity.”
Helen dropped her head.
“So there’s no hope?” I asked, struggling to accept what the lovely copper haired woman was telling us.
“I’ll have Dr. Malcom come in and speak with you shortly.” I took that as no, there was no hope. She just didn’t want to be the one to tell us that exactly. I couldn’t blame her. Doctors get paid more, they should be the bearers of the worst news.
After Kym scurried away, I turned to Helen and Waverly.
“Can I . . . have a few minutes?”
They looked at each other, uncertainty in their eyes, then at me. They didn’t want to leave my side and as shitty as I felt, knowing that made my chest ache—in a good way. I was loved.
“Just a few,” I assured them.
“Of course,” Helen said. “We’ll grab some coffee.”
Waverly kissed my cheek before the two of them walked away, arm in arm. As I watched them disappear down the hall, the one thing that made me feel better when I thought about my likely demise was that they would have each other. Entering the room, I wasn’t surprised to find my body looked worse than it had days before. If I were asked to describe the overall feeling of the room, I would have used the term fucking depressing. Taking a seat beside the bed, I leaned back and stared at my body. It still felt surreal to be in Max’s body while looking at my own. It was crazy to believe that trapped inside the hallowed shell of a body before me, being inflated and deflated like a balloon by a machine, was very likely Max. I wondered if he knew what was happening; if he understood he was in another man’s body.
“Time has run out, Max,” I told him. “We have to pull the plug. Not sure about you, but I’m freaking out a little about it,” I chuckled. Not because it was funny, but because it was better than crying or getting angry.
Standing, I placed my hands on the bed rails and stared at the pale face with sunken eyes, my heart sinking. Was there really any chance my body could go on? With being brain dead and in organ failure, I didn’t think so. “I don’t know what’s going to happen,” I admitted, “but I have a feeling, for some reason, I’m not going to fare well. I swear, Max, if you come out of this alive, back inside your body, you better get your shit together. I’m sorry your childhood was lonely and there were people that let you down, but it’s not an excuse.”
Walking to the window, I stared out. The view was awful, nothing but a brick wall from the other side of the hospital. Seemed fitting from where I stood. Isn’t that where we were? The end? The proverbial brick wall?
“If I survive this,” I grumbled, angrily, mostly because I didn’t believe I would, “I’m going to love that little girl like she was my own, and Waverly and I will be together . . . if she’ll have me.”
Turning back to the bed, I stared down. “That day I saw you . . . the day I saved you . . . you looked like a man that had it all figured out. A man that had it all.” I snorted to myself as I crossed my arms. “I’ve been wondering why this happened to me; what did I do to deserve this, but right now I’m wondering if maybe it was actually about you. Maybe this was meant to teach you something.”
Taking a deep breath, I shook my head. I thought about Max, his life and choices. I thought about Dr. Banahan and the light he had shed on Max’s life.
“I saw your therapist, Max,” I confessed, wondering if he’d feel humiliated knowing another man knew of the things he was most ashamed of. “It wasn’t your fault. Your mother was sick. She took her life because she didn’t know what else to do. I know you’ve been sick, too. I know you figured that out a little too late after you pushed the only woman you ever loved away and disowned your child. It doesn’t make what you did okay, but I understand why it happened.”
“I don’t know if you’re in there, Max,” I continued, “but if you are . . . if you survive this . . . don’t fucking throw it away again. I saved you, man. Don’t end it because you feel unworthy. If you can’t get your shit together, then sign the fucking papers. If you can’t be there for your daughter wholeheartedly, then let her and Waverly go.”
The door creaked open, and Helen peeked inside. “You still need more time?”
“No,” I told her. “Come on in.”
Kym entered behind them with Dr. Malcom, a tall man with gray hair and glasses, who explained the process of taking someone off life support. There were a lot of medical terms used I’d never remember, but I understood what was being explained.
“We’ll give him morphine before we begin extubating, and then every fifteen minutes afterward until his heart stops beating.”
“He won’t just pass after a few minutes?” Waverly asked, her lip trembling. I pulled her to me and held her at my side, wishing like hell I could somehow take this pain from her.
“It could take a few minutes or even up to an ho
ur in some rare cases. You may find he will stop breathing for long periods of time, then suddenly take a breath. He may make strange sounds, more like gurgling. It’s important to understand these are not signs he will survive or wakeup.”
Nodding, I inhaled deeply. Kym stepped forward toward Helen, a clipboard clutched in her arms. “We need you to sign these forms before we can start the procedure.”
Helen blinked a few times as she, with a trembling hand, took the clipboard before glancing at me. “It’s okay, Hel,” I assured her with the most reassuring smile I could muster. “It’s time.”
Helen stepped out into the hall with the nurse and doctor to sign the forms leaving Liam and me alone.
I had tried so damn hard not to cry in front of him all morning, but as I looked up at him, then back to the bed where his body lay practically lifeless, I lost it. The unknown was killing me. Not knowing felt just as soul-shredding as if we knew for sure he would die. The tears broke free so forcefully that I crumpled to the ground into a mess of sobs. Liam fell beside me, scooping me into his arms, holding me tightly as I sobbed.
Here we were, possibly minutes away from his death, and he was comforting me. “Are you still scared?” I wept as I dug my face into the crook of his neck and shoulder.
He didn’t answer for a moment. Then, “If I say yes, would you think me weak?” he murmured.
I clutched his arm. “No. Not at all. I’d be a mess if I were you right now.” Then I snorted. “I’m not you, and I’m still a mess right now.”
“It’s going to be okay, Waverly,” he tried to comfort me.
Pushing away from him, I took his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. “Don’t go,” I begged him. “Please, Liam. Please don’t go.” It was a horrible thing for me to ask him, as if he had any control over it. Or did he? My ability to reason was caught in a vicious tug-of-war somewhere between my heart and my mind, and the longer they battled, the more anxious and desperate I felt. “We don’t have to take your body off life support,” I pointed out, my voice pleading. The muscles in his jaw ticked as he looked away, fighting to keep his emotions under control. I knew I was being irrational, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t lose him. I couldn’t. I wasn’t strong enough to bear it.
