The End of Forever

by Lurlene McDaniel

  The lamplight glowed on the side of his face, and for the first time Erin noticed the bags under his eyes and lines around his mouth. He had a whole night ahead of him to spend in the hospital, and here she was taking out her anger at Travis on her father. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get so upset.”

  Mr. Bennett smiled pensively. “That’s okay, honey, we’re all on edge these days.” He picked up an album and leafed through the plastic-covered pages. “I remember when she was just learning to talk, and your mom and I would ask, ‘What does your sister want, Erin?’ And you’d tell us, and sure enough, that’s what it was. You two always seemed to understand each other. I think underneath you’re very much alike, even though on the outside you have different styles.”

  He rose, crossed to the buffet, and rummaged through the junk drawer. “I got the birthday pictures back a week ago and tossed them in here for your mother to put in the album.” He withdrew the packet and brought it over to Erin. “They turned out good, huh?”

  Erin sorted through them—Amy grinning from behind her birthday cake, Amy holding up the car keys and special key chain Erin had given her. A lump wedged in Erin’s throat. Could it have been only a few weeks ago that they were all so happy and carefree? “Yeah, Dad, they’re super.” She placed them carefully inside the back cover of an album.

  “Maybe when this is all over, you mom will put them in order,” he said. “Maybe this will be the birthday we remember most of all.”

  “Amy will wake up, won’t she, Dad?” Erin hadn’t wanted to ask the question but couldn’t help herself. Her conversation with her mother earlier still weighed on her mind.

  “The doctors aren’t making any promises.”

  “If she doesn’t, will we have to put her in a nursing home?” The idea made Erin shiver.

  “What do you suppose Amy would want?”

  “She’d want to come home.”

  “How would we care for her?”

  “We could.” Erin jutted her chin stubbornly. “Between the three of us, we could take care of her.”

  Mr. Bennett eased onto the sofa. He picked up the bear and stroked its fur. “The doctor asked us about putting a ‘Do not resuscitate’ order on Amy’s chart this morning.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning that should her heart stop suddenly, they wouldn’t do anything to start it beating again.”

  Erin stared at him blankly as his words sunk in. The house was so silent that she heard the ticking of the hall clock. “You mean, let her die?”

  Mr. Bennett kept studying the teddy bear. “She’s going to have massive brain damage, Erin. She’ll never be normal.”

  “But they can’t just let her die. Please, Daddy, don’t let them do that. They have to start her heart.”

  He turned anguished eyes on her. “Honey, Erin. Take it easy … it’s all right. Her heart’s very strong right now, so don’t worry.”

  Erin had gone cold all over. She dug her nails into her palms, hoping the instant pain would keep her from screaming. “How could her doctors suggest such a thing? Aren’t they supposed to do everything to keep a person alive?”

  Mr. Bennett let out a deep, weary sigh and rubbed his hand over his forehead. “They are, Erin. But lately I’ve wondered, What’s the distinction between prolonging life and postponing death? Can’t you see the difference between the two?”

  “What about, ‘Thou shall not kill’?” Erin grabbed at the commandment as if it were a lifeline. “If they let her die, it’s the same as killing her.”

  “But if they didn’t have the machines in the first place, wouldn’t Amy have died already? There’s a saying that everything under the sun has a season, that there’s ‘a time to live and a time to die.’ What about Amy’s time to die, Erin? What right does medicine have to tamper this way with her season?”

  Erin was afraid she was going to be sick. Her father’s questions were frightening her. She had never thought about such things before, and she couldn’t think about them now. Especially about Amy. “But you said her heart’s fine, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, honey, she’s young and strong. They were only asking what we’d want done should she suddenly die, that’s all. We live in a world where technology gives us options. They can restart her heart”—he paused and cleared his throat—“or they can let her go.”

  Erin pressed her lips together. “Well, I want them to start her heart again if it should stop. So that’s my choice. What do you and Mom want to do?”

  “The same thing.”

  Erin sagged and let out her breath. “I guess it’s real complicated, isn’t it?”

  “It’s very complicated. If Amy never comes out of her coma, we’re probably dooming her to a life in an institution.”

  “But she may wake up,” Erin countered, her voice quavering. “The machines are helping her live long enough for her brain to get better. That’s the way I see it.”

  Mr. Bennett stroked the teddy bear’s tummy. Erin wanted to throw herself in her father’s arms, but she was too old for that. Too old to cry like a baby. “Thanks for talking to me, Dad. I’m glad you told me what the doctors asked.”

  “Were a family, Erin. Your wishes count too.” He stood, smoothed his rumpled shirt, and plunked the stuffed bear on the couch. He said, “I’d better get ready and get down to the hospital so your mother can come home and get some sleep.”

  “Sure.” Erin began to gather the photo albums, spread out in a jumble around her. “Im going to clean up here and go to bed.” He left the room, and Erin shut each book, being very careful not to look at any more pictures.

  When she was finished, she picked up the teddy bear and hugged it to her breasts. It smelled new but also carried the sweet, pungent aroma of her father’s pipe tobacco. She cuddled it tenderly and rocked back and forth on her knees until she heard her father leave for the hospital.

  By Wednesday Erin had settled into a routine of relieving her mother midmorning and staying until one of her parents relieved her in the early evening. The monotony of the day was broken by Beth, who came straight from school every afternoon.

  “I’m glad Easter break starts tomorrow,” Beth told Erin as she nibbled on a handful of potato chips.

  “Me too,” Erin said, thinking of the plans shed made a month before with Shara to go to the beach and stare at the college guys down from the northern campuses. There’d be no sun-filled vacation for her now.

  She and Beth started a game of Monopoly. “How’s your sister today?”

  “The CAT they just did didn’t show any more swelling, so at least they won’t have to operate.”

  “That’s good.”

  “But it didn’t show the doctors anything else promising,” Erin countered. “They’ll do another one in a few days.”

  “Did you put the things in her room like you told me you were going to do?”

  “Only some stuffed animals, but I want to put up her life-size poster of Tom Cruise on one of the walls tonight. The nurses didn’t seem to mind when I asked if it was okay.”

  “Who would mind?” Beth joked. “At least when she comes out of her coma, there’ll be something worth waking up for.”

  “Right,” Erin agreed. “Whenever she comes out of her coma.”

  That evening at home Erin went into Amy’s bedroom to take down the poster. She entered hesitantly, momentarily surprised. The room was spotless, neat, and orderly. Clothes had been hung up, papers stacked, pillows arranged on the tidily made up coverlet. It didn’t look like Amy’s room at all. “Inez …” she muttered. Hadn’t her mother told her that one of Inez’s friends was coming over to clean their house? Obviously, she’d come.

  Erin walked around the room. It was too quiet and seemed foreign to her. Without Amy, Erin could scarcely stand to be in it. She stopped at Amy’s dresser and fingered a pile of papers. She wondered if Amy would have to learn to read all over again. She’d seen a television report once about people who’d had brain damage and they’
d had to relearn certain things as if they were babies. “I’ll help you, Amy,” she vowed, rearranging the pile.

  She scanned the photographs stuck into the wooden frame around the mirror. Travis and Amy smiled out at her. She stared hard at his handsome face. He’d kept his promise and called once a day for an update, but Erin was cool to him. How could he refuse to come see her sister? She wondered what he’d be doing over spring break.

  Erin turned toward the poster of Tom Cruise and spied Amy’s makeup kit in the corner. She lifted it onto the bed and opened the lid. Tubes of greasepaint were scattered inside. The fuzzy red wig and the bright red nose were also there. False eyelashes and a pair of oversize rubber ears were wrapped in wads of tissue.

  Erin went to the closet and dug around until she found the satin clown suit and floppy shoe coverings that extended outward a foot long. On the same hanger with the costume was a stiff white net bib with sequins. She ran her hand over the smooth satin. On Saturday Amy was to have appeared at the Children’s Home. Erin wondered what the kids would be told. She wondered if they’d ask Miss Hutton, “But where’s Amy?”

  Unexpected tears welled up in Erin’s eyes as she thought about the children. Why should she feel so sad about it? Why should she care? Amy couldn’t be there, and that’s the way it was. But you can, she thought, startled.

  “I don’t know anything about being a clown,” she argued aloud.

  You can go in Amy’s place, the voice inside said.

  “But I’ll feel so stupid dressed this way.”

  It’s for Amy. And the kids.

  “This is the dumbest idea you’ve ever had, Erin Bennett,” she announced. Yet even as she said it, Erin knew she was going to go find her father’s Briarwood faculty phone directory and call Miss Hutton and volunteer.

  Quickly she gathered up the costume and the makeup kit and hurried from the bedroom. Her pulse was racing, excitement carrying her down the hallway. She had something to do. Something to give to the kids at the Children’s Home, and no matter how silly and foolish she felt about being a clown, she’d do it. For Amy.

  Chapter Twelve

  Erin hid in the rest room at the Children’s Home until the last possible moment. A glance in the mirror told her all she wanted to know about how she looked dressed as a clown. She looked ridiculous. Yet she was experiencing some sense of satisfaction in the achievement. When shed called Miss Hutton, the teacher had been so delighted that she’d personally driven Erin to the Home, chattering and complimenting her all the way.

  “This is so wonderful of you, Erin,” Miss Hutton had said in her distinctive, high-pitched voice. “I did manage to find someone to fill in for Amy—a young man from Berkshire Prep named David. You’ll meet him at the Home. But the more clowns the merrier, I always say.” Erin only nodded and mumbled.

  Miss Hutton barreled ahead. “The party will start in the activity room, then move out to the lawn where the staff has hidden about one hundred Easter eggs. I know you don’t have much experience in this sort of thing, but the children are so fascinated by clowns that they won’t notice. Most are five to ten years old, and they’re so adorable.”

  Once at the facility Erin had retreated to the bathroom to begin her transformation. She’d watched Amy several times and felt she could reconstruct her sisters clown from memory. First she applied a base coat of white greasepaint. Next she filled in a wide mouth of bright red well beyond the perimeters of her own lips and drew large red circles on her cheeks. She pasted on the false eyelashes and drew eyebrows that arched high on her forehead. The red wig and bulbous nose topped off her appearance. In many ways she looked like Amy, but the resemblance so disconcerted her that she drew a row of bright blue tears from the corner of one eye to the edge of her jaw.

  She donned the satin costume, tied the bib behind her neck, and slipped the floppy rubber shoes over her sneakers. “Good grief, it’s like trying to walk in swim flippers,” she said, taking a few cautious steps.

  Yet she had become a clown to rival any that performed in the circus, and she was sure that Amy would be proud of her. She announced, “Well, here goes nothing,” took a deep breath, and edged out the door. One of the outsize rubber shoes got stuck in the doorway. “Drat!” she muttered, and struggled to pull it free.

  “Need some help?” someone asked.

  Erin jerked upright, only to have the shoe slip free and the door swing shut. She toppled backward and landed in the arms of another clown.

  “Do you always throw yourself at guys this way?” he asked with a laugh, hauling her to her feet.

  She felt totally embarrassed, then realized that he couldn’t see her blush because of all her makeup. “That wasn’t funny,” she said, squaring her shoulders. Even though he was wearing full makeup, she saw mischief sparkling in his blue eyes, and she thought of how silly she must look trying to act dignified in a clown face and outfit. Erin started to giggle.

  The boy’s face, already painted with a lopsided grin, smiled more broadly. “Hi, I’m David, fellow clown and court jester. You must be Amy.”

  Erin sobered quickly. “No, I’m Amy’s sister. I’m filling in for her. She’s”—Erin searched for an explanation—“sick.”

  “Too bad. I’ve heard she was terrific, and I was looking forward to working with her.”

  “You do this often?”

  “Every chance I get. I have a magic act too, but my specialty is balloons.”

  “Balloons?”

  “Yeah, I make animals and things for the kids out of balloons. Let me show you.” He reached into the pocket of the billowing overcoat he wore, pulled out a balloon, and proceeded to blow it up.

  Erin watched, fascinated, as he puffed and twisted and shaped the pliant elongated balloon. A minute later he held out a giraffe. “That’s super,” she said, taking it. “How do you do that?”

  “Trade secret,” he whispered. “What’s your specialty?”

  Suddenly Erin realized that she couldn’t do anything. How had Amy managed these appearances? What had she done to entertain her audience? “I–I don’t-know. Like I said, this is my sisters gig.”

  David pondered her, tapping his fat clown shoe on the polished tile floor. The makeup around his mouth turned into a sad-sack frown. “You need a gimmick,” he said. “Here, take my water flower, and every chance you get, squirt me in the face.”

  “Oh, but I couldn’t.…” She backed away, but he whipped off the large plastic daisy from his lapel. A long thin hose led from the back of the flower to a bulb.

  “You feed the hose down your sleeve and keep the bulb in your palm.” He explained how the gizmo worked as he pinned it on her costume and pushed the tubing inside her sleeve along her arm.

  Erin was amazed by his brashness but soon realized that he didn’t think of her as anything but a fellow clown out for the biggest laugh. Just the way Amy would have acted. “Uh—thanks,” she mumbled when he had finished.

  “Try it.” She squeezed the bulb, and a spout of water doused him in the face. “Outstanding,” he said. “So, this is your first gig?”

  “Yes. My last too,” she added yanking at the constricting bib around her throat. “If I don’t choke to death before the end of the day.”

  “Want to work up a little routine?”

  “Like what?”

  “The kids like it when you do pratfalls.”

  Erin looked skeptical, thinking of her dance aspirations. She didn’t want to hurt herself. “Gee, I don’t know.…”

  “I’ll do all the falling,” David assured her. “You just trip me up.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. I do this stuff all the time. I won’t feel a thing.”

  Erin agreed, and they did a few practice moves. Each time David sprawled convincingly on the floor. Finally satisfied, he rose, dusted himself off, and offered his arm in courtly fashion. “Shall we adjourn to the activity room?”

  Erin hooked her arm through his and curtsied. “Lead on, fool.”
They started down the hall, each lifting oversize rubber feet in cautious, exaggerated steps, being careful not to trip one another.

  The activity room was packed with small kids and personnel, and in no time David had won their hearts with his antics and balloon creatures.

  Erin followed his cues and tripped him often. She sneaked behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. The kids shouted warnings, but he turned and took a faceful of water. No matter how predictable her action was, the children squealed in delight. Behind the anonymity of the makeup, she was able to act with outrageous abandon.

  When the staff director announced the start of the egg hunt, Erin was almost sorry. David helped form a line and led the children out into the sunshine. Erin didn’t follow but hung behind. Without the shouts of the audience, the room seemed hollow, and she watched from the window for a few moments, then let out a sigh. For her the party was over.

  “There you are, Erin,” Miss Hutton said, coming in from the bright outdoors. “You were wonderful, dear. The children are asking for you. Won’t you come help find the eggs with them?”

  “I really need to get back to the hospital,” she explained.

  Miss Hutton’s expression turned to instant understanding. “Well, of course you do. Let me get my purse and drive you home.”

  Erin watched David prancing on the lawn with a dark-haired girl who kept dodging him and laughing. An overwhelming sadness descended on her. “Thanks. I’ll need to clean up before I go.”

  Miss Hutton touched her arm. “The children will long remember this day, Erin. Thank you for coming.”

  “I did it for Amy.”

  “You charmed everyone. So did that young man, David.”

  “Miss Hutton, if he asks about me, don’t tell him who I am or where I’ve gone. I’d like him and the children to remember me as just a clown.”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  It was what Erin wanted—to be associated with laughter. She took off the floppy shoes so that she could walk more quickly and started for the door. Her foot brushed against an inflated balloon, and it danced upward in the air. She caught it and held it up. It was tied off in the middle to form a heart, and she decided to keep it as a souvenir.