Ashes to Ashes

by Jason Banks

  Are you freaking serious? Oh my God, Max.

  This is awful!

  But you are the strongest out of all us kids. If anyone has the ability to tell Lily in the appropriate manner, it’s gotta be you for damn sure.

  Just take some deep breaths and even ask someone in the hospital... a social worker, patient advocate or someone like that.

  They’ll give you the advice you need.

  ...Max?...

  Call me, if you can. I just tried to call, and it went straight to voicemail.

  ***

  After several minutes of sitting in corner processing what he was about to do, Max invited Dr. Callahan back in who returned with a young lady following behind him.

  “Mr. Williams,” he said, gesturing in the woman’s direction. “This is our psychiatry resident, Dr. Mayer.”

  Though not with enthusiasm, Maxwell greeted the resident. “Yep. Been a hell of a night,” he admitted.

  She offered a relatively conservative smile. “I can only imagine how hard this is for you,” she acknowledged. “I thought I’d pop in and offer any help or understanding you need. My job is to be a resource for you, personally.”

  “Oh that would be great,” Max replied, returning his phone to the pocket. “I actually do need to ask you something.”

  “Sure, anything at all,” Dr. Mayer said.

  Dr. Callahan interjected. “Mr. Williams, I know you’re still raw about this, but it’s time to let Dr. Baxter, Brogan, have his wishes granted.”

  Max nodded. “I understand,” he said, letting in a huge breath of air. “I’m ready I guess, where do I sign?”

  As he lowered the electronic tablet into Max’s grasp, Dr. Callahan explained the two spots requiring a signature. Dr. Mayer excused herself from the room.

  “Mr. Williams, I’ll be right back,” she stated.

  “Here you will sign, stating that you’re the rightful party to make medical decisions on his behalf, in the event he is unable to decide on his own accord,” he advised, pointing to the line. “Here, use the rubber tip of this pen. It helps.”

  While Max signed his name on the first designated line, Dr. Callahan continued his formal instructions.

  “Then on this line, you are stating that Mt. Sinai Health and certified transplant surgeons have written permission to collect all organs and tissues in a viable condition to be used according to the policies and procedures set forth by The United Network for Organ Sharing, under strict supervision of local and regional boards of medicine.”

  Dr. Mayer returned to the trauma bay with an extra chair and placed it next to Maxwell as he penned his last signature on the device.

  “That’s all you need to do,” Dr. Callahan said, pointing to the nurse’s station outside. “I will print out hard copies of all this paperwork for your record keeping, should you need it.”

  “Thanks,” Maxwell mumbled, meanwhile a whole new set of tears began to pour from both eyes.

  Dr. Callahan advised Max of the next steps that would be followed and what he could expect.

  “Shortly, a fleet of nurses and physicians on the procurement team will come into the room and transfer Dr. Baxter to the operating room prior to extubating him,” he advised.

  “Okayy,” Max said, unsure of how it would feel to see all that happening before his eyes. He thought no amount of instruction could ever prepare a person to witness such a distressful set of procedures.

  “And in there, the team will complete their job with respect and dignity to Dr. Baxter, fulfilling his wishes professionally. Which, you probably would not want to see anyway.”

  This was the moment Max was most apprehensive about—pulling the plug on his one true love. While it was not an easy pill to swallow, it was Brogan’s wishes. On the plus side, if there were even a shred of silver lining for Maxwell to flatter with attentiveness, it was the fact of Brogan’s legacy to help others would impact several patients in need. Including the patient upstairs, which as ironic as it seemed, would receive a former cardiologist’s heart. Dr. Callahan excused himself as Dr. Mayer sat beside Max.

  “You mentioned there were a couple questions you needed answered,” she reminded him.

  “Yes,” Max confirmed. “We... Well, I have a daughter on the autism spectrum. She’s about to turn 7 and I don’t have any idea how to tell her this bad news.”

  Dr. Mayer went through a few steps for Maxwell to follow in order to address the sensitive matter in a vernacular which she’d understand. She told him that first and foremost, that waiting until the following day would be a terrible idea. In her experience, she advised that it’s best to choose a neutral area where she doesn’t have any of her favorite toys around that would attach them to such a negative memory.

  “Even our hospital chapel, perhaps,” she added.

  She also told him about good memories and it would be a great idea to get her a gift that would represent a positive remembrance. As frantic as Max was trying to remember all the advice, he almost pulled out his phone to take notes, but the battery was on power-saver mode and he needed to keep as much juice as possible to last until they returned home. Home—the first thoughts to wrangle him were of not sharing the bed anymore, taking showers alone, and not having a welcome home kiss from Brogan each time he would return from a trip. Then his attention drifted off to the other aspects of home. Max couldn’t be sure where this road would lead him, but he figured that his occupation would be a giant conflict in becoming a single parent.

  Parenthood... such a multifaceted definition led his wandering mind to a whole new level. How on earth was he going to take over everything Brogan did? It wasn’t like there was an explicit handbook laying around the house which would deliver instructions for each corner of her world. And most certainly, he wouldn’t find YouTube videos tailored specifically for raising a seven-year-old girl on the spectrum.

  Dr. Mayer interrupted Max’s fleeting attention span by waving her a hand in front of his face. “Hello, Mr. Williams?” she asked. “Are you alright?”

  Max jolted his head as if he were being shook awake from an impromptu nap.

  “Yes, I’m sorry. Yeah, I’m okay,” he replied. “I just have a lot on my mind... that’s all.”

  ***

  Max only had another minute allowing him to respond to Melanie’s series of worried text messages. He typed a short but effective message, because the procurement team had just taken Brogan up to the operating room. Plus, God only knew how long poor Lily was stuck at the nurse’s station absolutely bored out of her mind.

  Hey sis. Still here. I did get insight on how to tell Lil. About to go take her to the chapel and deliver this news. Wish me luck—I need it as much as I need you right now!

  Tears streaming down his cheeks, yet with a focused mind, Max shuffled into the hallway and rounded the corner, which led straight to the nurse’s station. He spotted Lily coloring on Xeroxed pages from an activity book with a handful of crayons.

  “Maxie!” Lily said, smiling brightly as she dropped a red crayon.

  Seeing her young, sweet demeanor tore at Maxwell’s heart strings. This would only be the first test of many, which would determine his worthiness of being a decent single dad. Or as she called him, Uncle. It was easier for her to address him as ‘Uncle Maxie’ rather than dad number two. Brogan and Max collectively arrived at the conclusion, given how different her brain was wired compared to a neurotypical child—even if it did cause confusion or upset from the general public. How dare somebody judge either of them for keeping Lily’s best interests in mind?

  “Honey, I need to take you someplace special,” he said, reaching for her hand.

  They paced down a hallway which led to a set of elevators. Briefly, he studied the hospital department directory and noted the chapel was on the second floor. Max led her into the elevator and selected for the next floor up. This small trip did not bode well for his confidence in how Lily would react. He thought of a moment when Brogan taught him how to relay info
rmation to her.

  “Remember to lay out every detail as if it’s in a picture book. She lives for imagery.”

  ***

  “Honey,” Max began, hoisting her on his lap inside the dimly lit chapel. “You remember in that one book when Henry the bear got in an accident and he had to be taken care of in the teddy bear hospital?”

  Lily shook her head, “Uhhh huhhh.”

  “Well imagine if for a minute Henry did not wake up from his wreck. Do you understand what would happen if the story was written that way?”

  “I guess,” she replied. “His family would be very sad.”

  “But do you know what that means?” Max replied.

  A look of confusion washed over Lily’s face. “He went to heaven?”

  “That’s right,” Max commended her, rubbing his hand across her back. “Well tonight, daddy got into a wreck and he was hurt very badly.” Max knew that wasn’t exactly the politically correct way to put it, but who cared? He was doing his best.

  “Oh no, daddy. What’s wrong?” Lily held her hands at both sides of her head.

  “Well sweetie, daddy’s gone to sleep forever,” he explained, trying with all his might to fight back the emotions rapidly surfacing. “Daddy is in a far better place now, with your papa Steven, even your hamster Chestyre.”

  Lily’s face turned to the shade of a maroon rose. “So daddy isn’t going to wake up?”

  “No, munchkin. Daddy is gone from this world, but he is always going to be right here,” Max proclaimed, resting his hand over Lily’s rib cage.

  So many tears fell from her tiny, round face. She couldn’t contain her movement and within seconds, she climbed down from Max’s lap to lay on the floor. With her head facing down, Lily wept uncontrollably into the dark brown carpet underneath the pew Max remained seated in.

  “This isn’t fair,” Lily screamed. “I love him so much, why didn’t he wake up?”

  Maxwell knelt to the floor and laid next to her. He placed his hand on her back, rubbing it again hoping it would soothe her.

  “Babe, it’s not a matter of daddy choosing what to do,” he tried to explain.

  The two of them climbed back into the pew. “You know how much daddy liked to help others and cure his patients, right?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “Well he just saved another person’s life tonight in this very hospital by giving them his heart, since he doesn’t need it anymore.”

  “Wow, he can do that?” Lily inquired, rubbing her tired eyes.

  A smile warmed over Max’s face, even if very temporarily. “Of course. Anyone can. It’s called giving the gift of life,” he explained. “And his kidneys are going to somebody else, his liver will save another life, the possibilities are endless.”

  “Oh that’s so nice,” she replied, appearing to comprehend the complexities of organ donation.

  “You see, daddy would want us to be proud of him and keep a hold onto all the happy memories we made with him,” he continued. “He wouldn’t want us to be sad for very long. Do you understand what I am telling you?”

  “Mmm hmm,” she mumbled.

  A slight nod of Lily’s head transformed into a look of exhaustion. Maxwell looked at the time on his phone and saw how late it already was. Grief has no timeline and it certainly doesn’t judge any unit of measure to tell the passing minutes from one moment to the next.

  “Okay then, love,” Max stated, picking Lily up with both hands to hoist her at his waist. “Let’s get going, I’m pretty tired too.”

  ***

  Back on the road from the hospital, many thoughts flooded Max’s brain about the new situation he found himself fallen prey to. Death is not an easy thing for anybody to deal with, especially an innocent little girl with a developmental processing disorder like Autism. How was he to be sure Lily had everything she needed if he was away on business three weeks each month? He realized that continuing his occupation would be next to impossible, as he’d just became a single parent. A father, uncle... whatever the fuck he was to Lily, she looked up to him as a guardian. When Lily was born, Brogan thought it only conventional that Maxwell be referred to as a second father. However, Brogan’s incredibly affluent Orthodox Jewish family in France had villainized themselves to the two love birds even further when they insisted that Maxwell be referred to as ‘Uncle’ and even that was a generous stretch for the rich sons of bitches—given their apprehension toward accepting Maxwell into the family because he was not of Jewish faith. By Lily’s third birthday, it seemed like the right thing to conform to anyway since they discovered her developmental issues and figured it would be socially confusing for her to call both of them ‘daddy.’

  Max also pondered how he’d juggle her school schedule with the other planned activities in her routine without some sort of support system. All the true people included in his inner circle was scattered throughout Indiana—from Indianapolis to Carmel, Westfield and Zionsville. The most important business trip ahead on Max’s docket was a fashion shoot in New York City merely a few days away. He’d only assume he could pay for Melanie’s airfare and persuade her to watch after Lily while he completed at least this final gig which he couldn’t reschedule. Hopefully, she’d agree and there wouldn’t be an issue. This was something he’d have to bring to light—and soon.

  Maxwell headed north on Colorado Boulevard and noticed the brightly illuminated sign for a twenty-four-hour Rite Aid just ahead. He remembered what Dr. Mayer advised him and figured he would pick out a happy toy or trinket for Lily to remember Brogan by. He figured it was important to not return home empty handed, since she needed to associate a remembrance with an object that she didn’t already possess.

  “Hey munchkin, we’re making a quick stop before we go home. K?” He announced, looking into the rear-view mirror at the sight of a tired Lily conked out in her seat belt.

  As much as he didn’t want to wake her, the frantic newly single parent in him worried that if he didn’t find that toy before arriving home, he would have been making a huge mistake. And that wasn’t a risk he was willing to take—screwing up his role as sole provider the first night. Max gently turned into the pharmacy’s parking lot, easily spotting an available space right in front of the entrance. He opened the rear passenger door gently and slid his hand over Lily’s forehead.

  “Kiddo, we’re making just a quick stop here before we go home. I promise it won’t take long and if it does, I will owe you a date at Froyo sometime this week.”

  Lily awoke without a huge fuss, which surprised Max given how tired she was. He walked with her, hand in hand through the entrance. They followed the main aisle down the middle of the store, remembering where the toy aisle was located. Inside that lane, Max spotted a medium sized stuffed elephant. He held it up against the shelf, thinking about how long it would stay clean and in decent shape. Max realized it probably wasn’t the appropriate token of dedication to Brogan and tossed it back into the bin. Since Brogan liked shiny things, he pondered the options of a music box type trinket as they scuttled across the store to a shelf of nick knacks and collectibles.

  His phone buzzed inside the palm of his hand, though Max ignored it at the moment because he was occupied inside of the drugstore, scrambling for some sort of memorial item. As he raised open the lid of a beautiful mirrored music box, a porcelain ballet dancer pirouetted clockwise to a polyphonic-like twinkle which appeared would be sensory offensive for Lily.

  “Ouchie,” Lily hissed, raising both hands to her ears.

  Max quickly shut the box and returned it to the shelf.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart. That’s probably not a good toy for you,” Max apologized, kneeling down to give her a warm hug.

  “Why are we here?” Lily questioned, actually making perfect eye contact with her Maxie.

  “Well, chipmunk, I thought we could find a special item which you can always use to remember daddy by,” he offered, “something with a sort of sentimental value of sorts.”

>   Lily contorted her head. “Sendaminnn-dal?”

  Max softly stroked at her bangs. “Sentimental, like as in something you will always keep with you no matter where you wander off to. Like a way to remember daddy for all the nice memories we had with him.”

  “Okay,” she replied, releasing her grasp from Max’s hand while he stood back up.

  They rounded the corner which led a path to the front of the store as Max flicked on his phone to read the unread text message. With as much pain as he’d endured that night, this was the first time Max actually thought about the inevitable temptations he’d be forced to endure as he read the text from his sister.

  How are you going to avoid relapsing? You haven’t had a drink in almost 10 years!

  Haunted by the memories of his drinking days, Max raised his head and noticed just merely three feet away was the drugstore alcohol section. His eyes darted to the assortment of whiskey on a shelf which met him at eye level. Within moments, Maxwell’s attention reverted to a memory from nine years ago.

  There on a bar stool in a dark, crowded bar on Colfax, Maxwell slouched over with his hands shaking an old-fashioned glass in front of his forehead which only had a sip remaining.

  “I’ll have annotherrur Jack, Tommy Boy. I’m a fuckin thirsty summbitch!” Max exclaimed, allowing everyone within his perimeter to see just how drunk he was.

  The bartender Thomas shuffled toward Maxwell’s section of the U-shaped bar. “I think you’ve had plenty already tonight, my friend,” he said, retrieving the glass from Max’s hand before it slipped from his loose grip.

  Adjacent to the jukebox which played ‘Only You Can Love Me This Way’ by Keith Urban, a loud slam of the bar’s door echoed over the blare of shouted conversation and music. A very peeved looking Brogan Baxter stomped toward Max’s seat. Max felt a hand wrenching into his left shoulder and turned around to spot Brogan totally upset.

  “I’ve been worried sick about where you’ve been,” Brogan insisted, pointing his finger toward the front door. “Do you know how long I’ve been searching for you?”