“Seven days?” I gasp.
“Yes. But don’t worry. You are okay.” He’s still smiling. “How are you feeling?”
“Good I guess.”
“How is the pain?”
“On my side?” I ask, touching it.
“Yes. On a scale of 1-10, how would you rate it?”
“Hmm… about a 6 or 7.”
“Okay. We will take care of that for you. I’ll have a few nurses come in to provide some more fentanyl. It will make you a bit drowsy, but should ease the pain. In the mean time, let me do a quick check-up.”
I chew on my bottom lip as Dr. Barad comes my way, checking my vitals. He tells me to breathe in and out slowly as he places the end of his stethoscope on my back.
As he does this, I realize something isn’t right.
I feel different.
Better.
There are no clear, plastic tubes running from my nose.
As I take in easy breaths without feeling like nails are pricking my lungs, I know exactly what has changed. The pain on my side. Breathing easily.
“Oh my gosh.”
“What is it, Shannon?” Dr. Barad asks.
“W-what happened? Did I get surgery? My lungs?”
Dr. Barad’s look of concern transitions into another grin, and I look around at Sonny first and then John. Sonny beams, her eyes still full of tears.
John is content. Grateful, but something is still weighing on his shoulders.
“A miracle is what happened, Shannon,” Dr. Barad says. “There was a donor here. Same blood type as yours. A female with the same height and build. Her lungs were perfect and strong, and about the same size as yours.”
I swallow hard, but it feels like I’m swallowing sand. “And… her lung has replaced mine?”
“As of two days ago, you have been completely cured of Onyx Pleura, Shannon.”
I gasp, immediately cupping my mouth, shocked by the words that have come out of his mouth.
“Cured?” I whisper, dropping my hands.
He nods. “Unfortunately, the young woman’s heart failed her and she passed away on the operating table, but her family was more than willing to donate once it came down to the paperwork. As soon as we received the lung, we took care of you.”
I’m… fucking speechless.
This has to be a dream.
This has to be a joke.
I must still be in a coma, wishing something like this would happen because this cannot be real.
As if she’s read my mind, Sonny says, “Trust me, Shannon. You’re awake.” She sobs and laughs at the same time. “You’re cured, sis! You’re okay!” She cups her mouth, dropping her head and fighting with her tears.
I want to cry with her, I really do, but I am still in shock. I look at my husband and gratefulness swims in his eyes. He mouths the words I love you and I want to jump out of bed and tackle-hug him.
Is this why he said I deserved the trip? Because he thinks this is fate?
Destiny?
Was this meant to happen to me? I would have been waiting years for a lung in the U.S. but here… in Paris. Not even a month and I have been blessed in every way.
“Wow,” I breathe. And I want to rejoice. I want to shout and scream and run until I can’t run anymore, just to test the new lung out.
“I suppose they’ve already told you about the misfortune your friend Max was involved in?” Dr. Barad’s voice fills the room again, and I whip my head up, my shock transforming to confusion.
“What do you mean?” I ask, one brow cocked.
Dr. Barad looks me hard in the eyes, and when he realizes I have no clue what the hell he’s talking about, he steps back, folding his fingers in front of him.
“Oh…” He looks at John, who also drops his line of vision. “I see. I… will go and get you something to ease the pain. Please let me know if you need anything else.” He walks out of the room in a jiffy, and I can understand why.
There is now a massive elephant in the room, one that won’t be gone until I have answers.
I look between my husband and my sister. I watch their faces, both full of grief and regret more than the relief.
John looks more stressed than struck with grief but Sonny? She is a dead giveaway. She is so emotional that I know there is something else she hasn’t told me.
“Sonny,” I whisper, my voice cracking. She looks away, slumping down on the sofa and covering her face. I look towards John. “John?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“What did Dr. Barad mean by that?”
I can feel my heart thundering. I need answers, and they are all stalling. “John!” I shout when he doesn’t respond. “What the hell happened to Max?!”
“He got into a wreck,” Sonny whispers. And then she breaks down. “God, Shannon, it was bad. So bad.”
My heart seems to fail me. “A wreck? H-how? How did that happen?”
Sonny’s face is completely covered by her hands now. I know she won’t say anything again for a while, not through those tears, so I look at John for the answers.
He moves forward, grabbing my hand, kissing my knuckles. Not once does he meet my eyes, not even as he begins to speak.
“Max got into a wreck leaving the hospital. A full-blown collision.” He pauses, swallowing hard. “He didn’t want to leave the hospital the entire week you were in the coma. I told him he couldn’t stay in the room with us—that he had to wait in the waiting room if he was going to stay. I… blamed him—told him it was his fault that you’d passed out and for putting the idea to travel to Paris in your head.
“We… um… got into a little confrontation and he had to be kicked out of the room by security guards. Sonny knew you wouldn’t want him to be too far away if you woke up so we agreed he could stay in the waiting room until then, but he couldn’t come back in here.”
“God, John,” I breathe.
“I know,” he whispers, his thick hair falling over his forehead. “I’m sorry, Shannon. I was just so angry—so pissed that he was here with you. It hurt me to know that.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, he um… he left that night. I don’t know where he went but Dr. Barad told us he’d finally taken off. But only an hour and a half later, Dr. Barad came back into the room and told us Max had been rushed to the ER.”
I gasp, and Sonny finally pulls her shit together, standing and meeting at my side. She sits on the edge of the bed, rubbing my back first before holding me close.
“Is he okay?” I muster.
“He… is not,” John replies. “A… um… a pole or something had gone through the top of his spine, and it struck the stem of his brain. He broke twenty-three bones. His legs were crushed and basically obliterated by the impact.” John looks up.
Sonny sobs silently, shaking as she clings onto me. She’s trying to be the stronger one, but it’s not working. She is a lot more sensitive than I am.
“But he is okay, right? He is fine? He’s alive?” Hope. I need hope.
“He is alive, yes.” Sweet relief. Thank God! “But,” John continues, and my relief is washed right away. The word “but” is never a good one to hear. “He is not okay, Shannon. Max is considered brain dead. His lungs are still working, his heart is still beating, but that’s only because of the life support. His brain has given no response and the doctors think it never will.”
“Oh my God,” I whimper. “A-are you serious? Please. Please tell me this isn’t for real?”
“We wouldn’t lie to you about something like this, Shannon,” Sonny speaks up. “Max got into a really bad accident. Eugene is here with him.”
“Eugene?” I whisper, turning my head to meet her damp eyes.
“He’s next of kin. He will control whether to… pull the plug or not.”
The plug?! No. So this is real?
I start to hyperventilate, wishing my lungs would fucking give out on me right now so I can pass out again. This can’t be true. Max has to be okay. He has to! I was the one who was supposed to die, not him.
I’d finally come to peace with it. I was at an understanding. I was finally okay with dying!
“Max is in this hospital?” I ask, panicked.
“Three floors up,” Sonny whispers.
“Well, I have to go see him! I can’t just sit here. I have to go!” I start to peel off the tape that is connected to the IV in my hand, but John grabs my wrist before I can take it out. “John! Let me go. I have to see him. You don’t understand!”
“I understand that you care about him, but you can’t go yet. Not while you’re still healing. He will still be here, I’m sure. Sonny told his uncle that you’d want to see him before he… makes any decisions.”
I watch his eyes for several seconds, my vision blurring. I then snatch my gaze away, covering my mouth, dropping my line of sight.
“There is something else you should know,” Sonny murmurs, turning to face me completely.
“What? What more could there be?” I snap. I’m pissed. And hurting, and I feel suffocated. My chest feels so tight, my body full of raw, ugly emotions.
“The woman’s lung they donated… she was a result of the crash Max was in.”
I peer into her eyes. “What?”
“A city bus hit Max. Totaled the car, and damaged a lot. The cops told Eugene the impact was strong because Max was most likely speeding. From what witnesses were saying, Max’s car flipped a total of eight times before it stopped. During one of those flips, the car hit a woman. She apparently was walking to work. When they found her on the side of the road, her heart was barely beating. Somehow her lungs were perfectly fine though…”
A trail of hotness rolls down my cheeks, and I shut my eyes, imagining that poor woman being hit by a flipping car. I imagine Max, and how terrified he must have been inside of it, unable to do anything.
I can’t believe this.
How is this my life?
How did this happen?
It seems I’ve traded my health for his life… but if I had a choice, I’d choose dying over losing him because I can’t handle this. I’ve been through a lot of shit, but most of that shit was with Max. Losing him is losing a huge part of who I am.
“How many days do I have to wait?” My voice cracks.
“At least wait one more day,” John responds, stroking my forearm. He stands, exhaling slowly as he cups my face in his hands. He tries to get my eyes on his, but I can’t look at him. Not because I don’t want to, but because I was so wrong.
If I’d stayed home, I could have died there. Max never would have gotten into that wreck—never hit by a damn city bus. Why couldn’t it have been a simple car? A motorcycle—something small.
“I know you’re hurting,” John whispers in my ear as he wraps his arms around me, “and I know you want to forget everything you’ve gone through and go now, but please, Shannon. Just listen to me for once. Just please… stay here. I will take you to see him myself once you’re better. I will make sure you see Max before we are out of this hospital. You have my word.”
Thick tears line my cheeks, but I bury my face into his chest. I don’t want to cry, but I can’t help it. So much has happened within the past two weeks. So much that I could have controlled and changed, but I was too stubborn and selfish to do so.
Sonny pulls away, going for the sofa to grieve some more.
John sits on the edge of the bed and continues to hold me. His tight embrace is warm, but it’s not enough. It’s not what I need. I won’t feel complete until I see Max. I won’t feel complete until I can talk to him again.
He can’t be gone that quickly. I refuse to believe it.
I can’t give up on him.
I can’t because Max has never given up on me, despite the fact that I had been facing death.
Max would want me to fight for him if he couldn’t, and I’m going to do just that.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Do you know what it’s like to lose someone dear to you?
To lose someone that is so close to your heart that you feel you will never function properly without them?
You’d do anything to get that person back. You’d fight like hell, through flames and fury. You’d sacrifice whatever you have as long as you get to see that person smile one last time.
A loss is devastating.
I have lost many friends over the years—hell, I lost my father and was raised by a mother who couldn’t have given two shits about me.
It was hard to recover from losing Dad, and to this day I wish he were here to see how his girls grew up, but losing Max?
Losing Max is like losing my beginning—my fresh start and guide to that first round of genuine, complete happiness.
Losing Max is earth shattering, almost like a shift in the air, a dreadful turn down the wrong dark alley.
I won’t say he is my soulmate, because he isn’t. John is, and he always will be.
But Max was my friend—a best friend—and he was honest and true and he had so much good in his heart that he constantly failed to recognize.
Yes, he made mistakes, and he always reacted before thinking things through, and maybe we shouldn’t have said or done certain things to one another in the past, but we got over it.
Shit happens. Life happens.
Just like me, he’d lost so much, so to know that he is losing his life… well, I just can’t bear the thought of it. It’s not fair.
That’s why I have waited until 3:37 in the morning to do this.
I carefully took out my IV less than an hour ago. My hand is sore and my body is still a bit drugged up from the meds, so as I climb out of bed, I stumble a bit, but not too much.
John is sound asleep on the sofa. He has to be exhausted. He’s snoring, and he only snores when he’s dead tired. I guess since I’m awake now, he’s found some peace.
Sonny took off to a hotel just around the block. She has a room booked and the only reason she is there is because John is taking up the couch.
She promised she’d be back before 7 a.m.
Before she left, she gave me a gift that was from Max. A gift that I really wish she’d waited to give me because seeing it broke what was left of my heart.
It was the locket he bought from the market. I thought for sure it was a mistake—that it belonged to him, that is until I opened it and saw the pictures of everyone I loved inside of it.
There was picture of me and John on the right. A wedding photo of ours that he most likely took when he visited our home, and a rare candid of Sonny and Max on the left.
I took the last picture the day we all went to the Appalachians. Sonny had hit him with a snowball and he got her back with a bowling ball sized snowball. It was hilarious, and we laughed about it over hot cocoa and s’mores.
As much as Sonny couldn’t stand Max, I knew she couldn’t hate him. They shared their differences and were always at each other’s throats, but I knew she cared about him a lot more than she led him to believe.
In a way, he was like the big brother she never had. Fighting like cats and dogs, but getting along really well with one another and behaving when need be.
It was so thoughtful of him to do this, to give this to me. Now I really know I can’t sit here.
I can’t even sleep.
I have to go.
This gift gives me all the more reason to make a move, do something and not just sit around, wasting the precious minutes that I could be giving to Max right now.
I have to go before I get caught.
If John wakes up, he will know where I am. I just hope he doesn’t worry too much… or get too upset.
I tip-toe across the cool linoleum, making my way to the door. Fortunately it doesn’t creak. It swings open with ease, and when I’m halfway out the door, I glance back.
He’s still snoring.
Good.
I peer down the hallway, left and right, and when the coast is nearly clear, I head for the elevator. I stumble inside the c
art. My room is on the second floor, which means he’s on the fifth.
I press the button, impatiently jamming my thumb down on the close button.
When I’m finally there, I walk towards the desk where a woman is typing on the computer. Her back is facing me, and even as the elevator chimes, she doesn’t turn to look back.
Something tells me if she saw me in this hospital gown she’d send me right back to my room. I don’t bother waiting for her to look back. I dip down the first hallway and make a round, searching for the last name Grant.
It takes me until the second corridor before I finally find it.
And when I see his last and first name, my heart seems to jump to my throat. I take in a ragged breath, pressing my palm to the hard oak, briefly shutting my eyes.
“Max,” I whisper.
I grip the handle, and I am so close to opening it—so close to walking right in and seeing him.
But then fear strikes me, and I release the handle, backing away from the door and staring at it with wide, distressed eyes.
I… I can’t see him yet. If I see him that means I may have to let go and I’m not ready to do that yet.
But what if he wakes up when he hears my voice?
I doubt it will happen that way… but what if?
Screw it.
I push the door open slowly, and at first it’s dark, but as I open it a little further, I spot a dim, gold light shining from the ceiling. It’s in the middle of the room, and it shines right down on him.
On Maximilian Grant.
I slip into the room, but my heartbeat is erratic as I shut the door behind me. The machine to his right beeps slowly. A loud, windy noise constantly moves through the room. Life support.
I look to the left and spot the machine hooked to his chest. The only thing that is keeping him alive.
I stop in my tracks, and when I see him laying there, so battered up, so bruised, and so damn near lifeless, I break.
Like a dam, the tears break loose, spilling down my face. “Oh, Max,” I cry in a whisper, rushing for the bed.
I bend over him, and despite the pain I feel on my body, it can’t even compare to the pain I feel in my heart.
I stroke his face, his smooth, tan skin running across my palm. He looks so peaceful. His large body takes up the entire bed, but I make way to sit beside him.
Infinity: Based on a True Story Page 24
