by Leanne Davis
The sharp ache in my chest is too painful to ignore. Claudia is the one I need right now. It’s all so automatic and instinctive. I didn’t realize she possessed an almost cellular connection to me.
Damion and I are twin reflections of solemn, confused grief. We don’t speak when we stop outside Ireena’s room. The machines surrounding her beep and hum and pump, distracting me from what I’m looking at. She’s completely hooked up to the purring machines and her color is strange. Her dark hair is all messed up, something she would never allow in her waking life. Being such a stickler about her appearance, she never went out the door without makeup. Wearing crazy long nails, which were always elaborately painted and bejeweled, I have to shudder when I recall her dragging them over my bare back—fuck. See how hard this is? I should not know that about my sister-in-law.
But what strikes me as unusual are the three long nails missing on her right hand. They look natural, unpainted and uneven, something she’d never stand for. Seeing the tubes connected to her, she seems so vulnerable and I am astonished when I think of how real this is.
“Go ahead; talk to her. She’ll be glad to hear your voice,” I say gently, nudging Damion’s arm. He seems as dazed and startled as I am. He nods and glances back at me, but I see the helplessness in his eyes. I nod and continue nudging him forward. Damion finally walks up to her, his head shaking and his disbelief palpable.
“Hey… honey… um… God.” He runs a hand over his face and shakes his head back and forth. “God. Damn, baby… I’m here. I’m right here.” I pull out a chair for him and he doesn’t even look at it before he plops down on it. All our life, we moved like that, in sync, together, as if we choreographed every step and memorized our parts. We do it so well, we don’t even have to look at each other to know what the other is doing.
I stand back and he gently leans on the edge of her white-sheeted mattress. He puts his hand on hers, which remains at her side, limp and pliant. He leans his head on the mattress. There are no more words. Damion makes his presence known to Ireena.
A nurse comes in to check Ireena’s vital statistics. Fussing with Ireena’s covers, she says, “Doctor will be around soon.” I notice she avoids our eyes. That doesn’t bode well to me. I nod, and a few minutes later, another doctor comes in. She does a double-take, glancing between us. It manages to make me smile. “We’re identical.” I point at Damion. “That’s Damion, her husband.”
She smiles kindly and gratefully at me. “I’m Dr. Zetloe, taking over for Dr. Renton. I’ve read about her condition and recent surgery. We’ll have to keep monitoring her.”
“She hasn’t woken up yet.” Damion says, as if he’s unable to process her words.
“No. There… there are some concerns about that.” Her tone is gentle as she adds, “Remember how Dr. Renton said we aren’t sure how long her brain was deprived of oxygen?” She continues describing what happened and their current concerns. At least she doesn’t beat around the bush, and I like that. But my guts feel wrung out.
Damion fails to register the subtext to all of this, but I get it. They are concerned about when she’ll wake up, and after she does, what she’ll be like. But this is all so unexpected, shocking, and fast that I don’t think Damion realizes the gravity of the situation and what they are most worried about. I rub my hands together as I search for soothing words that my brain rejects. No, this is just too much. Too unending. Too tragic. No way could a young woman like Ireena fall into such a critical condition. She is only in her late twenties. No way. Not this.
I ignore my thoughts and concentrate on Damion. I wonder if I should stay or go. But Damion looks up at me helplessly. “I can’t believe this.” He shakes his head since that’s about all he can do. I get it.
I slip out to follow the doctor when she makes a discreet exit.
“Dr. Zetloe, are you waiting for her to wake up or are you hoping she will?”
She smiles, and I instantly know what the answer is. I freeze inside. “I’m always hopeful, but her vital signs are rather disconcerting. We’ll start the neurological exam—”
“To test her brain function?”
“The signs are not optimistic. You should try to prepare your brother for all possibilities.”
That ominous warning ripples through me. She touches my arm before turning to depart. I almost crumple as I back against the wall. This is not how I expected the day to go. I can’t believe it. I’m shocked and confused. And hurt. Worst of all, I have to watch those I love suffer even more.
Damion. Dayshia. The feud is swiftly forgotten. For just a moment, I don’t care what led us here. Never mind who Ireena was or became to all of us. All that matters is right now.
It’s way too much for Damion. What is he supposed to do?
What am I supposed to do?
I turn and wander down the hallway. My parents are closer to Ireena’s room. My grandparents arrive. I hug Grandma Adaline and Grandpa Kyler. Grandma Hathai, my dad’s mom, was always very special to me. I adore her softness and gentle manner. She embraces me tightly without a word, and I savor all the strength I feel in her small arms enveloping me.
In a serious tone, I tell them what the doctor told me. I remind them that Damion might have been present when the doctor spoke to us but he didn’t seem to process her words. Mom takes in the information and shudders but remains admirably stoic. “I’m going to check on him.”
I realize then that we are all there for Damion, not for Ireena. I mean, we are sorry that a young woman as vibrant as she is has been struck down, but it’s pretty complicated. I still don’t know how to feel about her.
Lots of waiting around makes it an odd dynamic. The shock starts to wear off and my grandparents ask about my life. How is work going? My car? My hobbies? The innocuous chit-chat helps everyone pass the time. We all talk quietly between ourselves, respecting the solemnity of the occasion as well as the shock of it.
I have in-depth talks with both of my grandmothers. Grandma Hathai is especially concerned about what happened with Damion and me. In her soft tone, she asks me directly, how was I after what Ireena did to me?
She also mentions Damion. She doesn’t dance around his betrayal, unlike everyone else does. I love her for that. But she keeps her voice very soft and quiet.
I give her a huge hug and offer to escort her home, but my dad has already taken care of that.
We eat dinner and have coffee. We sit and wait. We take turns wandering in and out of the hospital room for hours into the night. I fall asleep on a couch. We wait some more. Our vigil is exhausting, traumatic, and later on, brutal in its monotony. Spending the middle of the night in the waiting room of the ICU is the saddest, most paranoiac place to be. It’s quiet and everyone is respectful of the others around them. Shadows and lights are different, too, much darker than the bright daylight that comes through the windows. We all ponder how we got here, what could happen, and what will be. It’s impossible not to let our brains wonder about the very worst scenario and its real possibility. It’s a dark, vicious streak of reality. I try to imagine what if it comes to be? What will I do? How will I handle it? How will Damion handle it? How will Damion handle me? I try not to be negative, but on and on the terrible thoughts persist.
My mom drops off to sleep. I offer to take her and Dad home but she refuses.
Just waiting around there, we aren’t doing any good. But it doesn’t seem right to leave. So, I stay, too.
I doze off at some point. Next thing I know, it’s five in the morning. So early. I wander down the quiet corridor and enter the lobby. Nothing is open yet, except for one tiny coffee bar. They have morning donuts and coffee. I stand in line and order some coffees for my family.
As I turn around, I almost drop everything. Claudia? At five o’clock in the morning?
She’s heading towards the elevator but she stops dead when she notices me. Her gaze lands on me. She is sympathetic, sad, and very warm. I glimpse her blue eyes and imagine nothing better than curlin
g up in her arms and letting her stroke my back as I sleep. Just fucking sleep. I only want to curl up and feel safe and warm. I want her light around me. Who is more alive than Claudia? Her smile. Her voice. Her heart. Her friendship. I need them all.
Instead, I set the tray of coffees on the table. She walks up to me. Her gaze is as soothing and kind as her voice. “You stayed here all night?”
“Yeah.”
She’s showered with minimal makeup on. Her hair swings in big curls around her shoulders and her bangs ruffle back as if the wind caught it and didn’t let it set back down to her forehead. It makes me smile. The first and only things since I set foot into this hospital. Of course, it’s Claudia that makes me smile. It’s always Claudia. But having loose, flyaway hair she’s unknowing about while the rest of her is polished and put together is so kind of her.
No matter how much she tries, she’s never polished or perfect, not like Ireena. She often said she could never be like that. I think it makes her self-conscious. It’s so hard to think of Claudia being unsure of herself especially over something as small, petty, and shallow as her appearance. Who cares about how one is dressed? Or the jewelry they wear? Or how their hair is styled?
Naturally, I chose to the date the woman who only cared about those things. A woman without grit or substance, nothing to redeem her or justify the pretty outside by matching it to something beautiful inside. No. Not for Ireena. She lived for the façade. There wasn’t much more to her.
But Claudia? Oh hell, yeah. Her beauty exists inside and outside. I stare at the funny, little flyaway strand of hair. My heart swells and twists at the tenderness and amusement of the moment, although I know it’s not anything to laugh at. I’m so thankful for all of her quirks and cuteness. She, alone, has the wonderful ability to make any dilemma I find myself in somehow better.
“I’d ask how things are, but I know you would have called me if anything changed.”
I nod. She knows me that well. She spares me from having to state the obvious. I shake my head. “They scheduled a series of neurological tests at eight o’clock. It could be bad.”
She bites her lip. “I’m very sorry to hear that. I can’t imagine. I mean, she’s only twenty-seven. And Dayshia’s mother.”
“Did you see Kaeja? How is Dayshia?”
“Yes. Your grandparents picked her up last night. I think Kaeja is coming here pretty soon. Then she said she’ll take Dayshia for as long as necessary.”
“It’s pretty amazing that we’re here for Ireena’s heart attack and not—”
“Theirs,” I finish. “Yeah. It’s pretty astounding.”
We stop talking and simply stare at each other. My mind goes blank. No platitudes can save me. Nothing feels right. I want to do nothing but stare at her. At Claudia. I want to memorize her presence and features. The slight crinkling of her eyes and the visible concern that shines from the depths of them. I study the color of her eyes and hair. I notice what she wears and her figure in it. Everything about her is etched into my brain. Even the insides of her. She’s the only person I feel that way about. Her heart beats with mine, and mine with hers. I know it does. Our souls are connected. We get each other in a way that I’ve never shared with any other woman.
“How are you? You look pretty tired.” Her features soften for me. She reaches out to touch my hand and I can’t help grabbing her fingertips in mine. I grip her hand a little too hard, since she probably only intended to graze me with her hand.
“It’s impossible to know how I feel. Guilty.”
She doesn’t ask me why. Her eyes don’t even bug out with surprise when she tries to reassure me I have nothing to feel guilty about. “Yeah, I get that.”
“I hated knowing they were together. I hated her. I thoroughly detested her. And him. And now Damion seems to have forgotten all of it. He’s broken, I see that, and completely inept in his attempts to deal with this emotionally or otherwise. His brain can’t understand all the details so he wants me to. After almost twenty months of no contact and harboring terrible thoughts, I feel guilty that I’m here now and for the reason I’m here.”
“But remember this: you didn’t do it. You didn’t cause this. You did exactly what you had to do, and I believe your reaction was reasonable and compassionate, as most people would react. But your attitude now is reflecting the changes in your life. You pivoted, Devon, because you had to. You had no choice in the matter, so there should be no guilt. Just be here as yourself, and for yourself. You’re doing everything right. And don’t forget that I hated her, too. I almost feel like a… a…” Her voice trails off and she shrugs.
I smile, totally getting it. “A hypocrite?”
She snaps her fingers. “Yes. A hypocrite. That’s exactly it. Even if we aren’t. They did those things to us and we’re just victims, right? We’re the collateral damage.”
I sigh. “I forgot she was your friend once, too.”
Claudia glances away, and I notice a soft tinge of pink in her cheeks. “She knew how I felt about you, even way back then. She schemed and conspired to make sure she hooked you, and then she rubbed my nose in it with unmasked glee. Not with words. Her snarky looks and cruel advice to me proved that she was well aware of what she was doing and why. She was vicious and sadistic, and although I’m sorry this happened to her, it won’t change what she did or why she chose to do it.”
I grip her hand in mine a little harder, shaking my head. “I had no idea how far she took it.”
“Well, it’s true.”
“I can’t believe she was so mean to you.”
“Can’t you? It’s exactly what she did to you. That was her pattern. If Dayshia hadn’t entered the picture, I believe Damion would have gotten the same exact treatment.”
I gasp a sharp breath of surprise. “You’re absolutely right.”
“I know all about her. That’s why it’s so hard and we feel hypocritical and all that. But I’d never wish this on her or Damion or Dayshia or you or anyone.”
I stare right into her face, and her eyes look deep and intense. “I’m sorry that I failed to see it back then. I’m sorry I didn’t see us for what we could be. That’s no excuse—”
She shuts her eyes and shakes her head. “Please don’t discuss it. Let’s just stay in the present, the here and now. We have enough to deal with today. Why don’t I go back up there with you?”
I nod because it’s too hard for me to let her go. I take the coffees and we hit the elevator button. I keep looking at her. She brightens up the dull, yellow interior but mostly, she clears the dark, tired, hazy fog that keeps obscuring my thoughts.
A soft, collective murmur of hellos and weary smiles come from my family when they greet Claudia. Mom hugs her tightly, and I stand back. Only now do I notice how well she fits into my family. She hugs Mom and they exchange whispered words only they can hear. After a small, genuine smile, she embraces my dad in a long, quiet hug.
She’s always known how to handle my parents. How right it feels to have her here. Losing Damion was like having my left arm amputated. Even though Claudia wasn’t as deeply involved in my life as Damion, she was more like my heart and soul. When she left me, I was drained and the whole world became black and white. When Claudia returned, everything went back to high-definition color again. It’s a stupid comparison, but that’s exactly how I felt in that moment. I could finally breathe deeply again and deal with this. Now that she was back. Not saying or doing anything in particular. Just being there with me.
And Damion also needs me here.
Chapter 10
DEVON
After another hour, I check on Damion. He finally comes out and drinks a coffee with Claudia and me. We three sit together, like we used to do as kids, just talking about crap and nothing. It might have been odd or inappropriate but hell, it seems to help.
Several medical professionals pass us, and we sense a new type of energy unlike the usual routines of the hospital. A bad vibe surrounds them. Damion asks me to
come back. I do. We sit while they do all kinds of testing and quietly discuss the results amongst themselves. After a while, two of them come over to sit near Damion.
“We aren’t encouraged by the test results,” one starts to say. Nothing makes sense to me. All the medical terms and scientific explanations make me weary. I feel dizzy from the overload of information and Damion is completely baffled by it. He has no clue what they are referring to. They shake hands with us and leave us with their solemn regret. We realize that things are not hopeful, but I don’t think Damion grasps how desperate the situation is.
Only when an advocate from Advanced Directives comes to talk to the family about the options do I finally realize they already know the outcome. In layman’s term: it is death. She’ll never wake up. Her brain function is gone now. Her life is being sustained exclusively by machines. Her hydration and nutrition will not go on indefinitely. If she codes before then, will the family issue the Do Not Resuscitate and Do Not Intubate orders? Does she want to be an organ donor? Does the family want her to be?
Getting overwhelmed with all the questions they ask, only one issue sticks out in my head. They want to discuss donating Ireena’s organs because her brain activity is absent.
I swear to God, judging by the dilation of his eyes, he just doesn’t get it. He fails to realize Ireena was already diagnosed brain dead, which means she is only being kept alive by life support. He’ll have to decide how long the machines will sustain her, and the point when they’re withdrawn. If Ireena becomes an organ donor, the process must be swift and precise.
After we are left alone, I turn to Damion and say, “Come with me.”
He stares up at me curiously. He was sitting beside Ireena and holding her hand. “Okay, sure.”
We go out. I wave my parents off when they start to rise while shaking their heads in denial. Something in my face must reveal my earnestness because they sit back down. I take Damion to a quiet spot. He and I sit down and are alone.