by Jason Banks
Max finished slipping on his shoes and hurried to Lily’s bedroom, approaching her bed calmly.
“Honey bear, wake up,” he muttered, slipping his hand across her forehead.
Lily perked her eyes open, wiping them with both hands to reduce the blur of just waking up.
“What’s wrong Uncle Maxie?” she questioned, seemingly still half awake.
Max motioned her out of bed, dragging the sheets away. He scurried to her closet, retrieving a lightweight sweater to prevent from getting a chill outside or in the hospital.
“Sweetie, we have to bring daddy a couple of things he needs from home,” he stated, knowing that it was only going to suffice for the time being.
As he slid her arms through both sleeves of the sweater, Max remembered he still hadn’t texted Melanie—his only other confidant. However, time was of the essence and it didn’t yet allow room for him to tap out a message to his sister. Even if he felt like he was dying on the inside, he remained calm and collect for Lily’s sake. He reached for a pair of black Crocs at the base of the closet, allowing her to put them on herself.
Max led Lily down the hallway to the stairwell and remembered the glass Voss bottle he dropped minutes prior. Although their large house offered the luxury of an elevator, nor Brogan or Max utilized it for Lily’s own safety. A locked door requiring a pass-code to gain access to the small galley was placed on each level of their home. Since he wanted to avoid the broken glass fiasco until later, taking the elevator seemed more appropriate.
With Lily and Max hand in hand, they stepped into the garage and paced towards Brogan’s car. A fashionable azure tinted Porsche Cayenne Turbo rested along the far side of the three-car garage. Lily ran up to a back passenger door as Max clicked the unlock button on its spare key fob. An alarming chirp and single flash of its headlights startled Lily as she raised her hands to both ears.
“Ouch,” she hissed, glaring toward Max.
He grabbed hold of her hand and held it in his left palm for a minute, bringing her a sense of comfort from the abruptness of the vehicle unlocking.
“It’s okay, we won’t hear it again. It just wanted to tell us a ‘hello’ of sorts,” Max assured her.
Lily shook her head. “I don’t like it doing that, Uncle Maxie.”
At the point of opening its rear passenger door, Max realized then that her booster seat was in his car, wherever the hell it was towed away to. Though sometimes life brought on moments of improvising, he couldn’t find a way around the hiccup of traveling with a child less than eighty pounds without the proper gear.
“Well chicken,” Max sighed, helping Lily up into the beige back seat. “Tonight, you get to ride like a big girl. But it’s gonna be our little secret,” he said with a wink.
He finished buckling her as securely into the seat as he was going to get that night. Still remaining calm on the outside, Max crawled behind the wheel and raised the garage door. He carefully backed out toward the black iron gate at the driveway entrance that promptly opened with the press of a different button. This was the start to a car ride Max never imagined having to take ever in his life—or at least not for an extremely long while.
***
Arriving at the Mt. Sinai Health ambulance bay, Max located the few parking spots beside the eastern side of the building. Emotionally tense and sadness slicing away at his stomach, he sprouted from the driver’s door to remove Lily from her seat belt. She held his hand, showing excitement for seeing her daddy at work. But since Maxwell hadn’t told her what happened, he would have to improvise yet again until arriving at the right moment to break the news. They paced through the big, sliding trauma doors that are typically only used for emergent ambulatory situations. He glanced around with his available hand above his brows to block the sudden brightness while he searched for the nurse’s station. Of course, Lily started to cover her eyes due to the intense brightness and loud sounds from the hustle of the emergency department. Nurses in navy blue scrubs and a couple doctors in their white coats passed swiftly by Max and Lily.
Max looked down at Lily and advised her to be a good girl. He told her the noises and people hurrying from here to there were saving lives and that she shouldn’t be afraid of being in what possibly could be sought out as the safest place in the world. With her hand in his palm, Max spotted a desk with a serious looking, soft spoken nurse standing at a large white board.
“Excuse me miss, I’m here for Brogan Baxter,” Max said, gaining the woman’s attention.
The nurse turned around to greet Maxwell. “Oh yes, thank you for rushing...”
Max quickly interrupted her, making hand gestures and eye movement in Lily’s direction as if to let her know that Lily didn’t know the situation yet. “... down here to give Dr. Baxter his briefcase.”
“My name’s Kim and I’m the charge nurse here,” the friendly black woman said, bending down to shake Lily’s hand.
Lily loosened her grip from Max’s hand. He glanced down at her young, innocent face and spoke gently. “Hey munchkin, Kim here is going to watch you for just a few moments while I go to a spot where only adults are allowed in, okay?”
“Okay, Uncle Maxie,” she replied, darting her eyes side to side because of the fast-paced action in the emergency department.
Max started to shuffle around the corner as a male nurse began to lead him into the private trauma room where Brogan’s body was being held. Not but two or three steps in, Max turned his head to see Lily throwing her hands over her ears and screeching in a tantrum.
“I kinda figured this would happen,” Max said to nurse Kim, returning to Lily. He knelt down to her level and attempted to gain her eye contact. Though not impossible for people she was comfortable with, during times of distress, such a task remained a major feat.
“Don’t leave me here alone, Maxie. I’m scared,” Lily pleaded, leaning in for a tightly squeezed hug.
He held her in his arms for a couple moments, allowing her to recover some stability.
“Oh honey, Kim is a really nice lady. She is one of the safest people in the world who you can absolutely trust to be around,” Max replied, stroking her hair strands behind an ear.
“No, that’s daddy’s job,” she retorted, continuing to stammer, “or Jenny’s, or yours.”
Nurse Kim returned, emerging from a door leading into a small room behind her station. She held out a cold box of apple juice, offering it to Lily in the hopes of keeping her occupied.
“Lookie here, Lil,” Max gasped, showing excitement even though he felt a shit storm rolling around under his skin. “You love apple juice, that was nice of Miss Kim.”
Kim opened her desk drawer to retrieve a brown purse. “I have another treat you can have, if you’d like it,” she said, holding out a pack of Lorna Doone cookies.
Max stood back up as Lily smiled, grabbing the snack from Kim’s hand.
“What do you say, sweetheart?” Max reminded her.
“Thank you,” Lily answered.
Finally gaining some trust from the charge nurse, Lily propped herself in a black swivel chair at the desk. Max started to walk away for the second time, adding, “I won’t be long at all. You’ll be just fine, babe.”
At long last, he’d calmed Lily from her conniption fit. Now he was about to dreadfully say his goodbyes to Brogan. The pent-up frustration and grief surfaced as the male nurse gently slid open a glass door leading into the trauma bay.
“Take as long as you need to,” the male nurse said, softly sweeping the curtain shut behind them.
Max gasped, shut his eyes and turned his head away. Seeing Brogan hooked to a ventilator, motionless and unable to grab for his hand was not as unsightly as the blood riddled horror that scattered in every direction. The very thought of Brogan suffering in his last minutes haunted Max’s cerebrum.
“Is he...?” Max asked, knowing the response would irrevocably alter his life forever.
“Well, mostly. Yes in every sense of the meaning, Dr. Ba
xter is to a point of not regaining consciousness and is permanently brain dead,” the young man replied.
“How could somebody be so careless to drive intoxicated?” he wailed, a salty river of tears casting down from his sorrowful cusps.
“I am so very sorry for your loss, Dr. Baxter was a wonderful man to work with and you have the entire hospital staff’s condolences and support,” he replied, placing a hand on Max’s shoulder. “My name is Clint, should you need anything at all.”
It did bring a level of comfort to Max, knowing that his man was a well-respected part of Mt. Sinai Health’s team. But the fact of the matter was, it didn’t matter to him in this moment whether Brogan was a doctor or if he’d been a university professor. Nothing would bring his man, Lily’s father, back from the great beyond. But there was a minor percentage of appreciation in his heart for all the hospital staff, knowing that he was in the most capable hands in Brogan’s final moments.
“Thank you, Clint,” Max uttered, his shaky hands reaching for Brogan’s immobile arm. “Can I have some time alone, please?”
Clint nodded his head. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll be just outside if you need anything.”
Max looked at Brogan’s rested eyes. He recognized the sound of the ventilator from several movies and television shows. The big screens nailed every detail down to a t. But there was something no director or writer could ever portray on screen—how uniquely heartbroken Max felt in that very minute. They’d just shared a dinner out merely hours prior, for Christ’s sake. And now he’s sending Brogan off to the morgue, kissing him goodbye for the last and final time. He looked up to the clock hanging slightly askew, noticing the time. It was the typical style hung in any classroom around the country. For a brief moment, his mind flashed back to one of the happiest moments in his life.
Retrieving his food tray from the counter at Panda Express, Maxwell Williams smiled at the clerk while paying. The employee just informed him about running out of lids for their cups. At the beverage fountain, he filled his cup to the brim with Pepsi. As Max turned around to find a table, he stepped forward cautiously so as to make sure his cup didn’t spill over. He raised his head for a split second and wound up nudging the tray into a man’s seemingly well chiseled torso. Wavering at no thanks to Sir Isaac Newton’s laws of gravity, the cup of Pepsi spilled directly onto the man’s deep burgundy Oxford shirt.
“Oh shit, I am so sorry,” Max gasped, pressing a palm into his forehead. “Please excuse me for being a major buffoon.”
The man smiled innocuously. “It’s quite alright, mon frer. It’s just a shirt.”
“No, no. You don’t understand, I am quite clumsy as of lately. Please let me reconcile this embarrassment,” Max pleaded.
“There’s no problem in being clumsy,” the man said. “In fact, I quite fancy a man that lives on the edge from time to time.”
A twinkle sparked in Max’s easy gaze. “I’m Maxwell Williams,” he introduced, placing his tray on the nearest table to the left of them. He wiped his hands with a napkin to offer a handshake.
Max smirked. “Well my, if I’m not mistaken, you’re quite direct. Aren’t you?”
“Ha. Ha.,” the man snickered, shaking hands with Max. “My name’s Brogan Baxter. It’s my pleasure to meet you, even if this is a rather unconventional way of doing things.”
“Yes, quite the odd scenario, I’d say in the least,” Max replied. “But I’m no stranger to awkwardness. Why don’t you join me for lunch? Besides, I’m going to owe you a new shirt.”
Brogan winked. “I usually don’t allow guys to buy me things on the first date,” he stated. “But sure, I’ll order my lunch and sit with you.”
“Super, obviously I need to refill this cup extra carefully,” Max stated, his nerves getting the best of him. He’d not met a guy in Denver since moving—and inside the cafe court of a shopping mall no less.
As Brogan returned to the small square table with his tray of Chinese cuisine, Max lifted several napkins from the stack he’d collected at the counter while scooting his chair closer to Brogan. He dabbed gracefully into the shirt, attempting to get as much dampness out of the fabric.
“This is only a temporary fix, I am serious about replacing your shirt,” Max insisted, locking his eyes with Brogan’s entrancing stare.
Max felt the butterflies in his stomach surmounting the urge to lick his lips. Damn. Between the salt and pepper hair to his rugged bearish figure, Brogan was fucking attractive.
“Would you allow me to take you out for an actual date, sometime? Perhaps dinner and a movie?” Brogan inquired.
“Well sure,” Max replied. “It would be my pleasure, Mr. Baxter, is it?”
Brogan returned the romantic stare, grabbed Max’s hand and left a warm, passionate kiss on the top. “It’s Doctor Baxter,” he whispered in a low tone. “And it would be a huge honor to get better acquainted.”
Maxwell felt a chill down his spine as he found himself weeping effortlessly over his departed lover.
“I miss you already, my tiger. What the fuck am I going to do without you here?” Max cried out, waterworks spilling over Brogan’s purplish-blue face. “How am I going to tell Lily? What about her, Brogan? I can’t do this.”
Maxwell’s broken heart couldn’t fathom how he’d even begin to tell Lily about Brogan’s accident. He knew that no words could be said, no actions could bring him back. How was he to convey the elements of mortality in a vernacular which she’d understand? Or who all he had to tell.
God knows Brogan’s filthy rich parents would need to be among the first to be told, no matter how little precipitous contact they’d shared given their international homestead. Brogan grew up bouncing frequently from Paris to Chicago until he started med school at Vanderbilt. Once he graduated, he was scouted by the Jewish board of directors at Mt. Sinai in Denver. That accomplishment earned him the sum of five million dollars to establish a prestigious residence in Northern Colorado. Shortly after moving Maxwell into the Cherry Creek home, Brogan’s father disapproved of their relationship since he was not of Jewish faith. This began a steady bout of bickering between Brogan and his family, who was barely even accepting of his sexuality.
Then Max racked his brain about his own family. He’d have to tell Melanie and their mother. His brother Kristopher. Lily’s sitter, Jenny. So many lists of things he’d have to completely inundated his head, to the point of an actual headache. But all Maxwell could truly focus on was the present moment, begging for the clemency of God to take away such pain. The proverbial knife kept jabbing into Maxwell’s gut, taking no prisoners.
“Goodbye my love, I hope you’ll be at total peace. Please watch over Lily and I from wherever you are,” Max cried out.
He wandered into the corner of the trauma room while grabbing his phone inside his jeans pocket. Finally, he was spared a couple minutes to send his twin sister a text message.
Hey Mel, I have horrible news. Brogan was struck by an intoxicated driver tonight and did not survive. Here I am standing bedside to his brain-dead body and I’m at a complete loss. How the hell am I supposed to tell Lily? I can’t do it, I just can’t.
Upon sending the note to Melanie, Max noticed an E.R. Doctor slide the pane open and shimmy through the closed curtain. Not a single minute passed by before he felt the vibration of what would be a response from Melanie.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Callahan,” the gentleman said, reaching his hand out towards Maxwell.
Max stretched his arm to oblige the introduction. “Max Williams,” he replied.
Dr. Callahan placed his tablet on a round stool. “First, I want to extend my sympathies. Dr. Baxter was truly our finest Cardiologist in the whole Denver Metro area and will be missed greatly.”
“Yes, I know. That nurse Clint told me everyone liked him,” Max advised.
His phone continued to vibrate in the palm of his hand, forcing him to keep hitting the side buttons to make it stop.
“I know the fragility of
this moment is very difficult to wrap one’s head around and I respect your current grief,” the doctor said, using his professional demeanor. “Dr. Baxter is a registered organ donor...”
“...please spare the theatrics, doc,” Max interrupted. “Can’t I have these few moments in peace without having you vultures swarm around pecking at my husband’s carcass?”
Dr. Callahan rotated his palms to face the ceiling. “Mr. Williams, I am not going to deny your frustration, but please allow me to explain the importance of this.”
Shaking his head, Max agreed to hear him out. “Gee, I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You’re just doing your job, right?”
“Correct. And no problem either,” the doctor assured, clearing his throat. “We have a candidate upstairs who’s currently high on the UNOS list for a heart transplantation. I’ve cross referenced his type and compatibility and Dr. Baxter is a perfect match across the board. Also, the transplant team will recover any other viable organs and tissues to spread out for any other patients who need them.”
While Dr. Callahan took a pause, Maxwell grasped at his hair in utter disbelief over everything which occurred that evening. Max motioned for the stool to sit down so he could gather his composure again. He knew deep inside, even through all the hurt, that Brogan would not want to lay around a hospital brain dead and unable to function ever again. But to grasp the feeling of sending his lover to the widely touted “light” was too much to chew on. For once he signs that dire form, he’d be officiating Brogan’s death in the most legal and literal sense possible.
“I can give you a minute alone to process all this,” Dr. Callahan expressed.
Max nodded his head. “Yeah thanks, just a minute I suppose.”
As the young doctor exited quietly, Maxwell turned his attention back to Melanie’s text response which culminated into a string of texts.