by Betty Culley
I can’t guess how the judge,
with her wide-screen eyes,
will vote.
Vivian is moving
out of state.
Lila is taking
a new job.
Jess is going
back to school
in the fall.
Everyone is moving on
with their lives—
except Jonah.
The nurses are family,
then they are not.
Mom asks me
if I’ve seen a form
that was in the kitchen drawer.
What form?
I ask,
not saying I know
it’s Jonah’s
Do Not Resuscitate form
she’s looking for.
Just a form,
she says,
maybe the nurses moved it.
The paper
might still be folded
in my jacket pocket.
I used it
to wrap a piece of fudge
to take out on the river.
Nuummite
Jonah’s presents
are waiting
on the counter
for him to wake up enough
to open them.
Johnny has Jonah sitting up
in bed,
with a wet washcloth
on his head.
What’s with the new look?
I ask Johnny.
He’s got a fever,
Johnny answers.
EEK EEK
Fire Alarm goes off.
Johnny listens to Jonah’s
chest, fiddles with O
and Snorkel Man,
then goes into the kitchen
to wash out syringes,
and draw up Jonah’s meds,
and give us some sibling
alone time.
I decide to ignore
all of Jonah’s friends,
and pile the wrapped gifts
on his lap.
Jonah, I say,
it’s your real birthday today.
Eighteen years old.
You have lots of
presents to open.
Of course,
nothing’s gonna be as good as
your harmonica.
I see the harmonica
on the nightstand
and blow into it.
HARUM HARUMMM
Jonah opens his eyes
when I play.
I don’t know if it’s
from the fever,
but his eyes
are extra shiny,
the way Mom’s are
after she cries.
Oooh, look!
I open the first package.
A blue sweatshirt from Mom!
I hold it up for him to see, then
I drape it over his shoulders
so it hangs down in front of him.
I open the next gift.
Oooh, amazing, Jonah!
Another blue shirt from Vivian!
I’m sensing a theme here,
you clothes horse, you!
And I hang the second blue shirt
over the first.
The next present
is from Hunter,
and it’s a CD of fiddle music.
I put it in the CD player
for Jonah to hear.
With the music playing,
I open the rest of the birthday gifts.
If you think about it,
it’s hard to get a present
for someone who can’t eat,
read, walk, or use his hands,
but the gifts are great—
funny movies, more CDs,
squishy pillows.
Jonah also has a card and package
wrapped in orange cloth
and tied with hippie rope.
“Dear Jonah,
This stone is called nuummite but some people
also call it the ‘Magician’s Stone.’
It’s one of the oldest stones on earth,
and came from a volcano. It is supposed
to help you find space and freedom.
Love, Rainie and Sara”
The shiny black stone
hangs from a soft cord,
and when it moves,
gold, green, and blue colors flash.
I put it around Jonah’s neck.
The noises he makes
when he breathes
Ratch Ratch Eratch
are louder than Snorkel Man’s,
as if Jonah wants
to have the last word.
There you go, Jonah,
all the presents are opened
and you are legally an adult.
Jonah is watching
the Liv Birthday Party Performance
with a face that means
he’s humoring me.
I can’t joke about all the things
eighteen usually brings—
the right to vote, get married,
buy lottery tickets,
so I say,
Happy birthday, big brother,
I love you,
and lift the cool washcloth
to touch my forehead
to his.
I’ve learned that
hearing something is good,
but feeling it is better.
Jonah
During the night Mom wakes me.
Liv
Get up
Get up
All the lights are on downstairs.
Mom is dressed,
and Johnny is in Jonah’s room
on the phone.
I hear him talking
Yes, number 23
He’s seventeen, no, make that eighteen
years old.
Nikki, can you turn on
the outdoor lights
and move the car
out of the driveway,
Johnny calls out to Mom.
What’s going on?
I ask Mom.
Jonah,
she says, pointing in his direction.
Jonah’s face is a shade of color
you might call blue or gray
or something in between.
His eyes are closed,
his lips are purplish,
and his hands are so dark
I can’t even give them a color.
He breathes one long breath
at a time,
with a wait in between,
like he can’t decide
whether or not
to take the next one.
Johnny drips medicine
in the corner of Jonah’s mouth.
This will help,
he says.
The O is as high
as it can go.
I shut that off—
he points to Fire Alarm—
it just kept alarming.
Your mom asked me to call 911.
The ambulance is on its way.
I hold Jonah’s cool hand in mine.
Breath
Wait
Breath
Wait.
I match my own breaths
with Jonah’s.
It makes me dizzy to
breathe with him,
and my heart is beating
so fast,
I can feel it pulsing
in my ears,
even without a stethoscope.
There are sirens
in the distance
getting louder.
Mom is in the doorway.
What will they do
when they get here?
Mom asks Johnny.
What will they do?
They may put in a breathing tube
to help him breathe.
I don’t say that Jonah
seems to have his own
way of breathing now.
THAT’S NOT WHAT DR. KATE SAID,
/> Mom screams at Johnny,
she said I could decide.
I could decide
if he got a breathing tube.
I could decide on
life support.
Isn’t a breathing tube
life support?
Johnny answers her
in a quiet voice.
Yes, Nikki, it’s up to you,
but you asked me to call 911,
you wanted them to come.
I WON’T I WON’T,
Mom comes closer
and screams in Johnny’s face,
I WON’T LET THEM TAKE HIM AWAY AGAIN.
Okay, okay, Nikki,
Johnny tries to soothe Mom,
when there are loud knocks
at the door.
Johnny looks at me and Jonah,
and follows Mom into the kitchen.
Breath
Wait
Breath
Wait
Wait
Wait
Breath
I hear everyone talking.
Mom still hasn’t found
her inside voice.
YOU CAN LEAVE NOW
I CHANGED MY MIND
I DON’T WANT A TUBE
DOWN HIS THROAT
BREATHING FOR HIM
YOU CAN’T TAKE HIM
DR. KATE SAID
SHE GAVE ME A PAPER TO SIGN
IF I WANTED TO
We don’t have to do that,
I hear a woman’s fake-calm voice
talking to Mom,
we can just assess him,
put on the monitors,
take a listen,
we can call Dr. Kate,
speak with her.
I can’t imagine
how hard this is
for you.
Breath
Wait
Wait
Breath
Wait
Wait
Wait
Wait
I can’t see Mom
from where I sit
on the bed
with Jonah,
but I feel the fight
go right out of her.
Wait
Wait
Wait
Wait
Wait
Wait
I finally have to blow out
all the air I’ve been holding
in my cheeks
waiting for Jonah’s next breath.
When Johnny and a paramedic
come in
to check on him,
Jonah is gone.
Johnny lays his hand
on top of Jonah’s head.
Fly high, my man,
I will miss you, always,
I hear him tell Jonah.
It doesn’t surprise me
that Jonah, the trickster,
wearing his Magician’s Stone,
would disappear
when we were all looking.
Cans
When the paramedics tell Mom,
Yes, Jonah died,
she starts throwing things.
She begins with the cans
of Jonah’s food.
She throws them out of his room
into the kitchen,
then she opens the front door
and throws them out onto the lawn.
Can after can after can.
When all the cans are gone
from the house,
Mom takes the drawers
full of medical supplies
and dumps them in the garbage.
She pours Jonah’s medicine
down the sink.
GET THIS OUT OF HERE
AND THIS
AND THIS
AND THIS
AND THIS
she tells the paramedics
(who’ve decided their new patient
is Mom),
pointing to O
and Fire Alarm
and Food Truck
and Suck-It-Up
and Zombie Vest
and Snorkel Man.
One by one,
I watch Jonah’s friends
leave the house.
When she is done
redecorating,
Mom remembers her manners,
and thanks the paramedics
as if they are moving people
who are nice enough
to show up
in the middle of the night
to lend a hand.
Soul
It’s three thirty a.m.
and the lights are on in
Number 24,
but I don’t see any faces
in the windows.
I imagine that an
ambulance
parked in the driveway
and Mom’s missile launch
of cans
onto the front lawn
makes it hard for them
to sleep.
I feel so strange.
My hands hang there
at the ends of my arms,
with nothing to do
for Jonah
anymore.
He lies in the bed
with no plastic prongs
in his nose
or O tubing curled
behind his ears.
There are no tubes
anywhere.
The room,
with all his friends
and equipment gone,
looks bigger
than I remember.
Without the usual whooshing
and ticking of the machines,
the quiet drums
against my ears.
I take my grandmother’s
old wool blanket
off my bed,
and cover Jonah’s legs.
We don’t go to church,
and I’m not sure I believe
in souls,
but I try to feel Jonah’s soul
in the room.
What is it like
for the soul
to leave the body?
In the quiet of the room,
I feel a deep sadness
around me.
Is it Jonah’s soul
saying a last goodbye
to his life on earth,
before moving on?
I hope,
when he gets to heaven,
or wherever he goes,
it’s as big and beautiful and shining
as Blee-ah.
Wish
Dr. Kate arrives.
She doesn’t say anything
about the cans on the lawn,
or Jonah’s friends
standing outside.
She leans over and listens to Jonah
with her stethoscope.
I had no idea
that a doctor would listen
for what isn’t there.
When she stands up,
she hangs her stethoscope
back around her neck.
I’m sorry, Liv,
Dr. Kate says.
I gave my birthday wish
to Jonah,
I tell her,
for him to have whatever he
wanted most.
Is this what he wanted?
I don’t know,
she answers.
What made him get so sick
so fast?
I ask her.
I thought he would get better.
That we were doing
all we could.
It was pneumonia, Liv,
and he was too weak
to fight it.
It wasn’t anyone’s fault.
I blame Jonah for three things.
One
Not thinking about me
when he picked up the gun.
Two
Always looking so far ahead
into his future,
that he missed seeing
all t
he good things
right in front of him.
Three
Leaving me alone
again.
At four thirty a.m.,
after Elinor comes
after Johnny hugs me goodbye,
after Mom lets
Jonah’s body
be taken away,
I find the number
for the Brann farm.
When a man answers,
I say,
Sorry to wake you up,
but I need to get a message
to Clay LeBlanc.
You didn’t wake me.
I’ve already had my breakfast
and two cups of coffee.
I recognize the voice
of the very old man.
Could you wake Clay
and ask him to pick me up
at home?
Your young man shouldn’t need waking,
he says,
he should be out in the barn.
I’m headed there now.
I’ll let him know.
Because he is nice enough
not to ask why—
why I called so early
why I need Clay to come get me—
I tell him.
My brother died this morning.
There is silence on the phone,
and then he speaks:
My twin brother died when we were ten,
got his hand caught in the corn chopper.
I’m sorry,
I say,
and hang up,
because I’m crying for Jonah,
and crying for the little farm boy
who didn’t get to grow up
to be a very old man
with his brother.
Moms
By the time Clay gets there
in his red truck,
the sun has come all the way up.
I’ll be back later,
I call out to Mom and Elinor
as I head out the door.
Clay is standing on the sidewalk
in front of our house.
When I reach him,
his arms go around me,
and my arms wrap around him.
Over his shoulder,
I see Gwen
in the window of Number 24.
Mom alert, I say,
Gwen’s watching us.
Same over here,
he says,
and when I turn my head
Mom is there
in the front window
of Number 23.
I wave to Mom,
then wave to Gwen,
get into the red truck,
and pull the door closed.
When the truck pulls out,
all that is left for the moms
to see
is each other.
Sorry it took me so long.
I had to help finish the milking.
Mr. Brann told me
about Jonah.
I put my hand out the window
and try to feel Jonah’s soul
in the wind.
How fast do souls travel?
Do they start out slow,
then pick up speed
when they get near the end
of their journey?
I have something to show you
at the farm,
Clay says,
something Mr. Brann thinks you’d like to see.
I Meet an Organic Baby Cow
