Subject to Change

by Karen Nesbitt

  “Sir, do you think he’s going to be okay?

  “I don’t know, son. But your brother is at the hospital now, the best place he could be. They’ll do whatever they can to help him.”

  Help him. Help. That’s what he needed all along. I shake my head to concentrate on getting my locker open. I’m so nervous I can’t remember my combination. I can’t see the numbers clearly through my trembling hands. Squeeze my eyes shut. Try again: 56-spin-34-spin-44. Finally, the lock drops open. I put my history binder on the top shelf of my locker and grab my jacket and schoolbag.

  Mr. Peters looks at me. “Got everything?”

  I nod while I shove my arms into the sleeves of my jacket. He closes my locker door and clicks the lock shut. I swing my schoolbag onto my shoulder, and we leave through the door to the staff parking lot. I glance at my Dumpster.

  The automatic door opener chirps, and we get into Mr. Peters’s car. On the way to the hospital we pass three ninth-graders, obviously skipping second period. Mr. Peters shakes his head and takes out his cell phone. Then he changes his mind and puts it back in his pocket.

  The hospital is in a town called Valleyfield. It’s pretty far away. Normally it takes about thirty minutes to get there. Mr. Peters makes it in just under twenty-five.

  I reach for the door handle. “Thank you, sir.”

  “No problem. Do you want me to come in with you? Will you be okay?”

  “Yeah. I’ll just ask at information for his room number.”

  “Oh! Hold on. I have it. Your dad gave it to me.” With his seat belt still on, he pulls up his jacket and fishes a note out of his pants pocket. “I-201.”

  “Thanks, sir.”

  “Okay, Declan, let us know if you need anything.”

  “Okay, sir. I will.”

  I close the car door and turn toward the hospital entrance. I-201. I’m pretty sure the I is for Intensive Care.

  “All right. Just come with me.” I don’t want to talk to the nurse as we’re walking, so I follow a step behind.

  She stands outside I-201 and motions for me to go ahead.

  The curtain is pulled around the bed. When I pull it aside, Kate and Dad are on one side of the hospital bed, and Mom is on the other. Ryan’s sitting in a chair a meter or so away.

  I can’t even see Seamus, there’s so much medical equipment. Mom makes room for me, and now I can see Seamus better. I start to shake. Mom reaches for my hand and guides me beside her to the bedside.

  This can’t be my brother.

  There are two different tubes coming out of his mouth and one out of his nose. His arms are covered by the bedsheet up to his elbows, but above the sheet his right arm is bruised and speckled with blood. His left leg is in traction. There’s a bandage around his head. Both legs are in casts. The toes of his right foot, sticking out of the cast, are blue. There’s tape around both arms holding intravenous tubes in place.

  More tubes snake out from under the covers, attached to different places: the bed frame, the intravenous pole, machines. His forehead is wrapped in gauze, a bandage covers the left side of his head and his ear, and there’s tape over his nose.

  Both eyes are black and closed. His chest moves up and down. A respirator sucks and blows and clicks. I follow his heartbeat. Green line on a monitor. Beep. Beep.

  Suddenly I feel the contents of my stomach rushing up to my throat. The room is fading to white. I think some words come out of my mouth, but I don’t know what they are. I turn and rush for the door.

  The hallway is cool. I breathe—in and out, in and out. I’m so dizzy. Ryan’s right behind me; he puts his hand on my back and pushes my head down, tells me to bend over till the woozy feeling stops. He guides me to a chair across the hall. I lean forward and hang my head between my knees.

  “Just breathe, buddy. It’s awful, I know.”

  Head still down, my voice squeaks, “How long…?” I can’t get any more out.

  “The ambulance brought him in early this morning. He went straight into surgery before your mom or dad got here.”

  All morning, while I was brushing my teeth, on the bus, writing my test…

  “The police took a while figuring out who he was. He had no ID on him. They found your health card in the car and contacted Mom. At first they thought it was you.”

  I sit up with my eyes closed and shake my head. He had my ID.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  “Well, about 4:00 AM the police tried to pull them over for speeding—”

  “Them? Who?”

  “Roberto something or other. I don’t remember his name.”

  Robbie.

  “He’s down the hall. Not as bad. He had his seat belt on.”

  No seat belt? You’re kidding.

  “They arrested him for DUI. And he was driving with a learner’s permit.”

  “What about Seamus?” I’m starting to breathe more normally again. “How is he?”

  “Well, they say it’s too early to tell exactly. He lost a lot of blood. There’s head trauma. He’s in an induced coma. Do you know what that means?”

  “Yeah. It’s because there’s swelling?” I tap my head.

  “Right. He has multiple fractures. Let’s see if I can remember: right wrist, right leg below the knee, left leg pretty mashed up, cracked pelvis, broken ribs, punctured lung.” I can tell he’s repeating what a doctor said.

  “Is he breathing?”

  “Not on his own right now. Actually, there’s also fluid in his lungs, like he had pneumonia before the accident. He’s getting antibiotics through an IV.”

  When Ryan tells me about the pneumonia, I nod. Seamus is in bad shape.

  “He’s gonna live, right?”

  “I hope so. It’s too soon to tell.”

  No seat belt. Brain trauma. Even if he does live, what then?

  “What kind of accident?”

  “They tried to outrun the cops. Lost control of the car and rolled it. The car had no airbags. They ended up in the ditch.”

  “Ford Taurus. With mags.”

  “Huh?” Ryan looks puzzled.

  “They showed up at the rink a couple of weeks ago. They were drinking.” My head drops onto my chest. I wish I’d called someone then. Ryan shakes his head.

  “Where did it happen?” I ask.

  “On the 342 heading for the Ontario border. Right before the campground.”

  The 342 is an old highway that runs parallel to the Trans-Canada. We used to take it from Rigaud to go camping in Ontario just across the border. Were they staying at the campground? Sleeping in the car, pulled into some campsite way off the road? It would have been a good place to hide from the cops.

  I breathe in and hold it for a couple of seconds. Exhale. “I think I’d like to go in now.”

  I enter the room ahead of Ryan. Mom meets us and puts her arms around me. She’s been crying and has crumpled Kleenex clutched in her hand. We hold on to each other for a while, then move to the bed. Dad reaches out his hand for mine. I take it. Kate is stroking Seamus’s shoulder. As soon as our eyes meet, she starts to cry. I reach over Seamus with my other hand. There’s a big lump in my throat. My sister. My brother.

  The only part of Seamus that really looks like him are the freckles on his cheeks. His red hair is stuck together with dried blood. The blond hair on his chest is stained with orange antiseptic. I see now, above the bedsheet, that his ribs are bandaged—he’s wrapped around the middle like a mummy.

  Everyone’s here. It’s like it’s always been this way, like five years didn’t go by while we were in hell. Nothing is the same inside me. I know I felt angry and hurt and alone. A few days ago, I felt hate and disgust. Now? Now, all I can think about is how close I was, maybe still am, to losing my big brother. I’m glad we’re all here.

  We stand and sit, hug each other, talk quietly about the weather, the Canadiens, Seamus when
he was younger. Most of the time, there aren’t any words for what we want to say.

  As the day goes by, we watch. Watch Seamus’s chest rise and fall. Watch the lines on his monitor make colorful zigzaggy patterns. Nurses and doctors come in and out, change things, record things, add things, take things away. We watch each other.

  I lean over to Ryan. “I need to pee. I’m going to find a bathroom.” We’ve been sitting together by the bed. I give a little wave to Mom and Dad and leave the room.

  There are people in the hall. Nurses going about their business, other families, a food cart that smells like fake mashed potatoes and gravy. I push open the doors between the ICU and the rest of the hospital and start to scan for a bathroom.

  Farther down the hall I spot a familiar figure. It takes a second for me to realize it’s Leah. What the heck is she doing here? She’s talking with a woman and a doctor in a white coat. The doctor puts the stethoscope she’s been holding in her pocket and leaves. The woman enters the hospital room nearest to them, and Leah starts walking slowly in the same direction I’m going. She’s texting.

  I can’t yell, so I try to get her to look back by hissing. “Pssst, pssst!”

  She stops. She heard me. She’s looking around.

  “Pssst, pssst. Leah! Here!”

  She turns around and puts the phone in the pocket of her jeans.

  “Declan! What’re you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same question. What is it with bumping into you in hallways?”

  She looks down. Not even a small smile at my weak joke.

  “Sorry. Is everything okay?”

  “Bubby had another stroke. She’s probably not going to make it this time.” Her chin starts to tremble, and her eyes well up with tears. I put my arms around her and rub her back. She lets me hold her for a moment, and then we separate, and she blows her nose. “They’re dissolving the clot, but there may be too much damage already. We’re just waiting.”

  “Oh my god, Leah. I’m so sorry. How long have you been here?”

  “Since about four thirty this morning. Mom heard something in the middle of the night and found her on the bathroom floor.”

  She shakes her head. I take her hand. Then she looks at me. “Why are you here?”

  I feel like what I have to tell her isn’t real. “My brother was in an accident. They called me out of my history test. Mr. Peters drove me.”

  “Oh, Declan! That was your brother? We were in Emergency when the ambulances came in. The police were there and everything. It looked bad. How…?”

  I shrug. I don’t know where to start. “He’s alive. He and that friend were trying to outrun the police. They rolled the car. He’s in pretty bad shape. We don’t know yet.”

  “Oh, Declan!” She’s still holding my hand. “What a horrible day.”

  “I know. I can’t really feel anything. Kind of frozen.”

  She leans over and puts her other hand on my arm. “I can’t believe this. I keep hoping I’ll wake up and find out it’s not real.” Her voice is barely a whisper at the end, and her face melts into crying. She shakes her head. I put my arms around her, and we stand like that in the hallway for a minute. Little silent sobs echo in my body. She rubs my back with one hand, and I know she’s about to pull away. “I have to go. I’ll be in here.” She points to the room her bubby is in.

  “Okay.”

  She squeezes my hand.

  “I hope Bubby’s going to be all right,” I say, but it feels useless to say it.

  She nods and waves goodbye.

  When I get back to the room, Mom and Kate are gone. Ryan’s reading a magazine. Dad is standing next to Seamus. I stop at the foot of the bed. Stick my hands in my pockets. And look.

  This mangled person is my brother. My big brother. I think about fishing for radio stations, about playing pitch and catch. He took me once, when I was about twelve, to play pool with his friends. It made me feel so special that he included me. Will we ever do things together again? I thought he was gone before. I was wrong.

  I look up at Dad and run my hand through my hair and down the back of my head. He motions for me to come to him. As I walk toward him, tears burn my eyes. I can’t stop them. Eventually my eyelashes fail, and the tears run down my face. Dad reaches with one arm and pulls me to him. With his other hand he holds my head against his shoulder. It feels hot inside my body where my heart is. I want my dad. I want Seamus. I want everything to be okay, like it used to be.

  Kate and Mom come back into the room. I wipe my face on my sleeve, and Dad and I turn back to Seamus, his arm still around my shoulders. Kate puts her purse on the floor beside Ryan’s chair. I hear them talking about Mandy.

  I hope Mandy never has to see this.

  Finally, about 8 PM, the nurse comes in and tells us we can keep a vigil— take turns staying with Seamus through the night. But from now on, there can only be one or two of us in the room at a time. There’s a bed by the window and a family room down the hall with big leather sofas and blankets and pillows. She kicks us all out of the room and says to come back in an hour.

  My parents and Kate and Ryan want to go to the cafeteria for coffee. Before they leave, we decide that Mom will take the first shift with Seamus, Dad the second, Kate the third, and then I’m on till morning. Ryan will pick up Mandy from daycare and spend the night at home with her. I feel weird leaving Seamus alone in the room, so I go back to his bed, but I don’t know what to do. I put my hand on his shoulder. The nurse starts replacing bags of fluid, emptying the catheter, recording information on his chart, and I pull myself away.

  Twenty-Seven

  The patient TV room is dark except for the bluish light coming from the screen. The sound is off as I click through the channels. Leah’s sleeping on me, my arm around her shoulders, her head on my chest. I feel her ribs against mine as she breathes. We decided to come here to be alone instead of staying in the family room with Dad and Kate while Mom’s with Seamus. Her parents are with Bubby.

  Leah looks up at me with half-open eyes, and I kiss the top of her head.

  “What time is it?”

  I click to the weather channel and translate 23:23:07 in my head. “Eleven twenty-three. It’s minus six outside.”

  She rolls her eyes. She asked me for the time, not the weather.

  “Anything?” she asks.

  “Nope. No one’s been here.”

  We’re both scared someone will come, because it’ll most likely mean bad news for one of us.

  I put the clicker on the table beside the sofa and put both arms around her. Our legs are resting on a wooden coffee table. She stretches out and drapes her leg over mine. I lay my cheek against her head, her soft, curly hair. She smells so good. I close my eyes and lose myself in feeling her body next to mine. Drift off to sleep.

  I’m awakened by someone in the room. I sit up. Leah wakes up too, and we both turn toward the door. The fluorescent lights flick on above us, forcing us to squint and shade our eyes.

  “Are you awake, Leah?” It’s a woman I’ve never seen before, but I know immediately that it’s Leah’s mom. She has exactly the same curly brown hair.

  My eyes aren’t accustomed to the harsh white light. The TV’s still tuned to the weather channel. We’ve been asleep for two hours. Leah focuses on her mom.

  “Honey, she’s gone.”

  Leah scrambles off the sofa and runs to her. “No!” They put their arms around each other and cry quietly. After a few moments Leah’s mom lifts her eyes toward me, and Leah says, “Mom, this is Declan.” I’m still standing by the sofa with my hands in my pockets.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say. I remember the conversation Leah and I had about meeting each other’s parents. “I’m glad to finally meet you. I—I wish it wasn’t like this.”

  Leah and her mom look at each other and shake their heads, like they know something I don’t. I raise my eyebro
ws, wondering if I said something wrong, and Leah explains, “It’s what Jews say at funerals, when they see each other because someone dies. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances. It’s not wrong, it’s right.”

  Leah’s mom says, “Thank you, Declan. I wish it was a better time too.” She smiles weakly, then puts her arm around Leah’s shoulders, and they turn to leave the room.

  “Leah—”

  She turns back to face me.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll miss her too.”

  Leah nods, and they walk out the door. I watch them turn the corner to Bubby’s ward, their arms around each other.

  I turn off the fluorescent lights and return to the sofa. The weather channel still says –6. I lean back with my feet on the table. The screen blurs as I stare at it through tears.

  Twenty-Eight

  Before I go into Seamus’s room for my shift, I lean on the wide metal doorframe. The curtain is pulled around Seamus’s bed. The rest of the room is dark. It reminds me of camping when we were little, with the lantern on inside the tent. Across the room, under the window, there’s a padded bench you can sleep on.

  I push back the curtain. A fluorescent light glows above the headboard. I fold my jacket and hang it over the back of a chair. “Hey.” I’m alone with him for the first time.

  Seamus’s chest rises and falls to the steady whoosh and click of the respirator. I watch the accordion-like balloon go up and down in its chamber. Everything is exactly the same as it was before we left him except his arms are outside the covers, and I can see the cast on his wrist. I check my pocket to see if I still have that pencil stub. Maybe I’ll write something on the cast later. On the other side of the bed, his left hand is connected to the heart-rate monitor with a clip that looks like one of Mom’s clothespins.

  I jam my hands in my pockets, take a step toward the bed. “How’s it goin’?”

  The beeping monitors mock me.