Three Things I Know Are True

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