In an Instant

by Adrienne Torrisi

  Watching Jake’s chest artificially rise and fall is sickening. Then my eyes shift to Marcus, and the bile continues to creep up from the same artificial rise and fall of his chest. The beeps are overwhelming yet also a blanket of comfort. As long as there are beeps, they are still alive. I find myself holding on to each beep, each peak and dip of the line mapping their heartbeats.

  My stomach churns over. I need a bathroom. Now. I try desperately to will the bile back down, knowing getting to a bathroom will be near impossible.

  I feel Cam’s supportive hand on my knee, mostly because it’s the only place he can touch that isn’t bruised or battered.

  I can’t take my eyes off either Jake or Marcus, seeing their parents crying, hugging, pleading. Why do they make these walls glass? This should be private. I hate that everyone can see in.

  “They look the same,” I whisper to Cam.

  “The way the doctors explained it, the machines are helping Jake, but they are the only thing keeping Marcus alive.” He says it as if he’s said it a million times, like he’s numb to the weight of his words. Numb to what they really mean. “They’ve been talking to his parents about organ donation.” Once again, numb. Maybe Cam is as numb as me. Maybe none of us can truly absorb what this means.

  Marcus is only eighteen; how can it be over? He’s perfect. His life is perfect. He needs to make it to nineteen and twenty. He needs to be loved as much as he deserves, something I couldn’t give him, and now I hate myself for it.

  “Daniella,” I hear a soft and gentle voice. It pulls me away from my dazed focus on Marcus and all those damn machines.

  My eyes meet his … well, his mom’s, who has the exact same blue eyes as he does. Just seeing them sends shooting, painful reminders through me. I should see his eyes. They should be open. What if I never see them again?

  “Mrs. Clark,” I say, trying to get up to return her outstretched arms for an embrace. God, why does it hurt so much to move? “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” I say as I return her embrace, and I hate how she trembles in my arms.

  We both finally pull back, and my eyes meet hers again. They are red and swollen. I despise that she even has a reason to be this shaken up. She has always been wonderful to me. Marcus’s parents are a lot like Mel’s—happy. He is truly a product of his environment. His parents are incredibly kind, caring people, and it’s not fair that this is happening to them.

  She runs her hands over the part of my hair that isn’t covered by bandages. “How are you, honey?” she asks so sweetly, so genuinely concerned when she shouldn’t be. Her son is dying, and it’s my fault. I’m a horrible person.

  I look over at Cam, hoping he will be able to give me some strength through osmosis. Then I meet her eyes again but I can’t bring myself to answer. I press my lips together and shake my head ever so slightly as I feel the tears pooling. With one blink, they are sliding down my face.

  I look past her to see Marcus, still there, still lifeless. Then my eyes meet hers again.

  “He loved you so much, honey,” she says and it breaks me. Literally breaks me.

  Why is she speaking about him in the past tense already? He’s still here. He’s right there, very much alive.

  I shake my head and am quickly reminded I have a concussion. I try to step back, but I forgot the chairs were behind me, and I stumble. The world starts to spin around me, and my legs lose the ability to hold me upright. I brace myself for the inevitable collision with the hard tile floor when, out of nowhere, Cam wraps his arms around me, and he pulls me back up to safety.

  “Oh, Daniella, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted you to know how much he cared about you.”

  Please stop. I squeeze my eyes shut as the guilt swarms through me, consuming me.

  “I know,” I muster with barely a whisper, but it’s there. I’m trying so hard to hold it together for her. I need to be strong. She’s losing a son.

  “Maybe we should get you back to your room.” Nate steps in, concern etched all over his face.

  “No,” I say so emphatically it causes him to recoil both physically and emotionally. “I need to see them both,” I say, gaining strength. I will not go back to my room without seeing them. I need to talk to them.

  Cam knows we are on borrowed time before my nurses realize I’m gone, so he helps me into Marcus’s room. If nothing else, at least my little episode got me a speed pass in to see him.

  “I’ll give you a minute,” Cam says as he pulls the sliding glass door shut, but I don’t even turn to acknowledge him. I can’t look away from Marcus.

  I close my eyes for a split second because this is too much to handle, too much to take in, to understand. I gently touch his hand, the only part of him that doesn’t have something attached to it.

  “I’m so sorry, Marc. I’m so sorry for everything. I hate that you are here like this. Just a few days ago, you were fine, better than fine. It’s not fair how quickly it changed.” I take a deep breath and try to keep my voice steady. “I should be here. I should be the one in this bed, and you should be upstairs. I’m sorry I asked you to switch seats. You always sat in the back. Always. I asked you to swap for a reason I can’t even bear to tell you. I’m so, so sorry, Marcus.” I close my eyes and rest my cheek on his hand, hardly noticing the tears sliding down my cheeks.

  I focus on his hand. It’s still warm. It’s still the same. It’s still his hand. He looks the same. How is it that his body decided to stop working? He’s fine; it’s like he’s sleeping. I feel his chest rise and fall and pretend it’s not from the machines, that we are in his room, lying on his bed, talking about everything and nothing. I could always tell him anything … except about Jake. That’s the one secret I kept from him.

  I hear the whir of the sliding glass door, but I can’t take my eyes off Marcus. I can’t let go of his hand. I need to stay here. If I stay here, nothing will change. He can live like this forever.

  “Hi, Dani,” I hear Marcus’s voice. Great, now I’m hallucinating. I know it’s impossible, but it sounds just like him.

  “Cam wanted me to tell you that other people need to come in since they only allow two at a time. He thought you’d actually listen to me. Guess he doesn’t know you that well.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing who it is, but I want to relish in the sound of his voice. It’s the same voice as Marcus’s, just laced with more sarcasm. I can’t bear to turn around, because as much as he sounds like him, he looks even more like him.

  “I’m so sorry, Luke,” I whisper to the blankets that are covering Marcus.

  “How are you doing?” he asks as he rests his hand on my shoulder. I close my eyes and pretend it’s Marcus’s hand touching me. I know I need to stop pretending, but I can’t. I need him to wake up.

  “It doesn’t matter.” I shake my head with my eyes locked on Marcus. I refuse to turn around. “When did you get here?”

  “Yesterday. I got a pass from my professors to miss mid-terms.” He gives a small laugh, masking the uncomfortableness filling the room.

  Luke is one year older than Marcus. He was a god at our school. Now he’s a freshman in college, but I’m sure he’s still a god, just in a slightly bigger fishbowl or pond or whatever.

  I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing. I merely squeeze Marcus’s hand more tightly. Please, just squeeze it back. Please.

  “I can’t believe it,” Luke whispers softly. “I mean, I never worried about Marc. He was always fine. He figured out life at five.” He gives another painful chuckle.

  I know I need to leave to give someone else a chance to visit, but I can’t do it. I can’t bring myself to let go. Luke must sense it.

  “Come on; we’ll do it together,” he whispers to me as his fingers wrap around my other hand. “She’ll be back, Marc.” He leans in and touches his brother’s leg, talking to him as if he were awake and fine.

  Dammit. My eyes land on Luke, and my heart drops. It is filled with so much pain my body ca
n no longer support it.

  Luke looks even more like Marcus than I remember. He has the exact same almost black hair that hangs in the same incredibly blue eyes. He is exactly the same height as Marcus, just a little more filled out, a little more muscular. Seeing them side by side, it’s as if Luke is looking into a mirror, a horrible, demented mirror full of machines and beeps.

  I close my eyes and hear his words repeat in my brain. “She’ll be back.” Will I? In my soul, I know this is it. This is the last time I will ever touch him, see his cheeks filled with color, feel the warmth of his soft skin.

  “Come on, Dani; we should go.”

  “I can’t,” I say, losing all form of control. I feel it slip away, but I can’t do anything to stop it.

  I clutch Marcus’s hand while I lean over him and whisper, “I love you. I will always love you. This is not fair. Please don’t leave me like this.”

  There is no reaction, no movement. I know in my heart he’s really gone. Marcus was superhuman; if there were an ounce of him left in this body, he would show me. He would give me a sign.

  It’s only the machines keeping him here, but none of us want to admit it. I can’t admit it.

  I have always loved him. I just was never in love with him, not in the same way I love Jake, the same way I am in love with Jake.

  Guilt racks my body. I can’t bring myself to leave his side. Just because I wasn’t in love with him with my whole heart, doesn’t mean I don’t love him with my whole heart.

  I can’t stop shaking. I drown out Luke’s voice, his touch. I know he’s losing a brother, but I can’t register that. My brain cannot handle any more devastation.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and breathe in and out. I concentrate only on breathing.

  “Dani? You need to walk with me,” I hear Dax, but I keep my eyes closed. I can’t bear to walk out of this room with them open. I can’t see the good-bye. I can’t let walking out of this room, me leaving him, be my last memory of Marc.

  I have been numb this entire time, but now all feeling comes slamming back into my chest at once. I’m shaking uncontrollably, unable to stop. And I can’t open my eyes.

  “It’s okay, Dani. It’s okay.” Nate is calm next to me.

  When I feel both Dax and Nate’s hands on my arms, I’m glad they’ve got me. I trust them. I know they won’t walk me into the sliding glass door.

  “She needs to lie down.”

  “No, she has to see Jake.” Dax is emphatic, and I love him for it.

  “She can’t handle it right now. Look at her,” Nate barks back matter-of-factly.

  “She’s right here, and she can hear you,” I tell them calmly when I finally open my eyes.

  Both of them start to laugh.

  “It’s good to have you back,” Dax says with a smile. I’m glad his smile is the first thing I see.

  “You scared us back there,” Nate says with a small, nervous laugh.

  “He’s gone,” I say so mechanically it’s as if my brain finally let me admit it.

  Dax looks away, but Nate holds my gaze, and his tears tell me he agrees.

  “Fuuuck!” Dax shouts as he punches the wall.

  For the first time, I notice they brought me to another room. It’s a small, rectangular room with a few beds. There is no glass and barely enough space for much else other than the beds lining the walls; most likely, it’s a sleep area for the doctors.

  “That’s a good way to get us kicked out,” Cam says as he peeks his head around the door.

  Dax doesn’t even acknowledge him, letting me know he’s having as hard of a time as I am with everything.

  “I’ve got a few connections if anyone tries.” Nate smiles. He is so calm and collected. I never thought about it before, but after this crisis, I’m now sure he will follow in his parents’ footsteps and be a doctor someday. It also clicks that this is why we have all been allowed back here in ICU for so long. God bless Nate’s parents.

  I know his dad is chief of surgery, and I can tell his mom is well-respected just by the way the other doctors interact with her.

  “Hey, can I have a minute with Dani?” Dax asks the room.

  “Sure, but keep it short because we have to get her back to her room soon,” Cam says.

  Nate kisses me on the head, and Cam gives me a smile as he shuts the door behind them both.

  I hate the way Dax is looking at me, as if I’m about to break, or maybe it’s as if I’m already broken, because I am.

  “I know, Dani,” he says softly, sitting down next to me on the bed.

  It’s such a broad statement that I’m not sure what he means.

  “About Marcus being gone already?”

  “No, about Jake.” His eyes lock with mine, and he squeezes my knee.

  My heart drops. I thought it was my secret, and after seeing Marcus, knowing why this happened to him, I know that’s what it needs to stay—a secret.

  We need to end it. It can’t ever happen again if we ever get a chance to have it happen again.

  I don’t know what to say. Even if I did, the words won’t come out. I can’t speak.

  The room fills with silence as we both stare at the stark white wall in front of us.

  With his hand still on my knee, Dax gently squeezes it once more, and then he finally turns back to me. “I’ve known since the night at the club.” My eyes lock with his. They are filled with questions as he continues to explain, “I confronted Jake after we dropped you off.” Dax shakes his head. “But I sort of always knew. I mean, I saw the way he looked at you before that night. I knew something was up with him, and when I saw you together at the club, it all made sense. I knew why Jake has been off, why he was so protective. He really loves you, D. They both do … did.” He looks down on that last word. “I just know how hard this has to be for you, and I wanted you to know that you’re not alone. I’m here for you … if you need me.” His soft brown eyes meet mine again, and they are filled with love. There is no questioning, no anger, just pure love. That alone suffocates me with guilt.

  Unable to speak, I simply nod. That’s all I can do without breaking completely.

  Chapter Twelve

  Fifty-Six Hours Ago

  The game is close. Too close. It’s our last regionals game, and if we win this, we go to state.

  The score is 87 to 86, and the other team has the lead with one minute left on the clock. Anything could happen in one minute; it’s like a lifetime in basketball.

  Our coach still has all five starters in, so all five of our boys are on the court.

  We are playing the Mavericks, and they are a great team. This is the first truly evenly matched team talent-wise that we have played, which is not good. Usually by this point, a lot of our boys are either on the bench or have had a long break, giving the other players a chance to play, but our guys have only had a few small breaks. I can tell they are all exhausted.

  Marcus is drenched in sweat. I kind of love it. He’s playing hard, just like he always does. He’s a true gentleman everywhere but on the court. On the court, he rarely let’s anyone or anything by him.

  While Jake is playing just as hard, it’s effortless for him. He’s in deep concentration, and I love the expression on his face when he plays. It’s always the same, and it’s the happiest I have ever seen him. Pure joy courses through his veins whenever he is on the court. This is where he belongs. He loves a challenge, lives for it, though he’s rarely challenged, so I can tell he’s elated to finally have some competition, to finally have a reason to give one hundred percent of his effort.

  Marcus passes to Jake then blocks the player on the other team, allowing Jake to take the ball to the basket, which he does and scores. We are up by one.

  All of the girls on our squad give each other nervous smiles as we erupt into a cheer with the rest of the crowd. Jake doesn’t even acknowledge it. None of the boys do, and that’s how I know they are in the zone.

  The Mavericks get the ball, and they bring it back down f
ast, but Cam goes for the block and fouls their player, so they get two free throws.

  Our side of the crowd creates so much noise by banging their feet it’s deafening, but it works, and the kid misses his first shot.

  The girls and I all coax the crowd to do it again as their player tries to concentrate on his last shot. Swish, the ball flies through the net.

  Shit. The score is tied 88 to 88 with thirty seconds left.

  Dax gets the ball and brings it down the court with less urgency than I would like. I still don’t understand how they can all stay so calm when the game is so close with such little time left on the clock. My insides are turning over. There is so much riding on this game. Being seniors, we don’t have next year to make it up. This is it.

  I can barely look. Dax seems as if he has all the time in the world. The smile on his face tells me he knows he’s got this. I’m glad at least he’s sure.

  There is an unspoken conversation of looks and nods happening with all five of them. I have no idea what they are planning, but I know enough from years of watching them that they are up to something.

  Marcus somehow gets open, even though his guy is all over him. That’s the thing; he’s so fast he is like lightning. Dax passes to him, which brings the other team’s focus to Marc. It works like a charm.

  He passes to Nate who passes to Jake. They are running down the clock. Although the other team knows this, our boys are so fast they are one step ahead. The Maverick’s don’t know where to look, whom to go to. I don’t, either.

  I love watching them play together like this; it comes so naturally, like breathing for them, when they work as one.

  At the three-point line, Marc gets open again. Jake nods to Marcus with a smile I don’t miss. The other team expects Jake to take the shot. He is our star, our top scorer, so they move forward to steal the ball. However, Jake is faster. On their move, he passes to Marcus who shoots.