The Best of Friends

by Berry, Lucinda

  “Whatever it is, honey, we’ll get through it,” Mom says after a few more beats pass and I still haven’t answered. “All marriages hit rough times. Your daddy and I went through plenty of them over the years, especially when you kids were younger.”

  I shake my head. I told myself those exact words so many times that I’ve lost count. In the beginning, whenever I considered leaving, I reminded myself how I’d promised to love him in good times and bad, through it all, no matter what, because that’s what being married meant. Bryan knew how seriously I took my vows and never failed to bring them up whenever he sensed I might be slipping away. If that didn’t work, he threw statistics at me about the damaging effects of divorce on children. He preyed on my commitment to my family.

  “Is somebody sick?” The color drains from her face at the possibility of having to meet another difficult challenge in the middle of this one.

  I shake my head again and quickly speak before I lose my nerve and make up an alternate story to cover for him like I’ve done so many times before. “Two nights ago, Bryan hit Luna because she talked to Kendra after he told us not to. You know what? It doesn’t matter why—it was wrong. He hit her and it’s wrong. She left, probably assuming I’d do nothing about it because that’s what I do—what I’ve done for her entire life. But I’m not doing any of it anymore. It’s over.” My words trip over each other, they’re coming out so fast, and they’re disjointed, but I can’t put them together right. “I have no idea what happens now. Don’t talk to him, please, or tell him I’m here. Although he’ll figure out I’m here. But I still don’t want you to talk to him.” My eyes flit to the front door. They’ve never had an alarm system, always relying on an old-fashioned dead bolt. “Don’t let him in.” I’m running out of steam. I can’t stop. Not yet. “And my marriage was pretty bad. Like, the whole time. I’m sorry I lied about it. But I don’t want to talk about any of this right now. Okay? That’s what happened. That’s why we’re here, and if I talk about any of it in detail, then I might just fall apart, and I can’t fall apart right now. I just can’t—”

  “Shhh . . . hush, okay, honey, okay. Settle down.” Mom places her hand on top of mine. “You don’t have to talk about anything that you don’t want to talk about.”

  Breaking down isn’t an option. Caleb’s upstairs, and he needs me. Luna is somewhere in the world, and she needs me, too, even if she never responds to another one of my calls or texts.

  “Okay.” I take a deep breath, shoving my emotions back down, hoping they’ll stay there. “Can we just focus on figuring out a way to make Caleb feel safe again?”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  LINDSEY

  I hurry down the hallway to the conference room, where I’ve kept everyone waiting for almost ten minutes. I completely spaced the meeting with Jacob’s medical team. I went back to his room after my breakfast with Kendra and lost all track of time. I almost told her about Andrew but chickened out at the last minute. He had an affair, but somehow, I feel like I’m the one who did something wrong and needs to hide. Do I call it an affair? He didn’t really do anything. Or did he? Doubt and suspicion cloud everything he’s said because I still haven’t seen any of his conversations with May. I’m so jealous they have nicknames for each other. We’ve never had nicknames.

  Earlier, I tilted my chair away from Jacob’s bed because I couldn’t stop staring at the spot on his thigh where the bruises from last night lay hidden underneath his white sheet. I can’t believe I did that. I’ve always secretly wondered what would happen if you really hurt him. The nurses and doctors touch him so gently when they’re examining his reflexes and responses, like he’ll break if they press too hard. I’ve always wanted to ask them to apply more force during their examinations, but what kind of a mother asks a nurse to hurt their child? I got my answer, but it’s not one I like—he didn’t so much as flinch when I hurt him. I push the guilt away.

  We used to have these meetings multiple times a day, but they’ve dwindled to once every two to three days since they moved us. I push open the door, muttering my apologies before I’m through the doorway. I grab the first open seat on the right.

  Andrew sits next to Dr. Merck. Normally, Andrew and I would’ve coordinated our arrival so we could sit together, but I turned my phone off after Kendra left and haven’t turned it back on since. Today might be one of those days I shut out the rest of the world.

  “Hi, Lindsey, welcome.” Dr. Merck stops the conversation he’s having with Dr. Levlon to acknowledge me. Dr. Levlon occupies the seat on his left. He’s Jacob’s anesthesiologist and only comes to the meetings when we talk about surgery. Dread rises in my chest. I can’t handle another surgery.

  Andrew catches my eye and shoots me a tired smile. I shift my gaze to the other side of the table, ignoring him like I ignored his texts all morning before shutting my phone off. The doctors and specialists from the rehabilitation floor occupy the rest of the seats around the table, even though most of them aren’t familiar with Jacob’s case. I recognize the head of the human resources department, Diana, sitting across from Andrew.

  “Hi, everyone,” I say, letting my eyes travel around the room before settling on Dr. Merck, since he always leads these meetings. He’s been with us since Jacob’s admission to the hospital. He got there before we did and was already in surgery with him when we arrived during those awful hours when we hovered in limbo between then and now. As irritated as I can get with him, he’s the reason Jacob’s alive.

  Dr. Merck folds his hands in front of him like he might be getting ready to lead us in a prayer. He’s in his late fifties, wearing the lines of a seventy-year-old around his eyes. Years working with brain-injured kids would take their toll on anyone. As usual, he wastes no time getting down to business. “We’d like to talk about withdrawing Jacob from life support.”

  This is what I rushed down here for? How many times do we have to have this conversation? They’ve been trying to withdraw Jacob from support since he failed the coma recovery scale three days postaccident and every day since. The injuries to his brain stem mean that even if he does regain awareness, he might forget to swallow and choke to death on his own spit. At least that’s what they say, but nobody can tell us with 100 percent certainty if that would be the case, and I’ve read plenty of stories where it wasn’t. There’s always a different reason for why they want to do it, but it all boils down to the same thing, no matter how they try to sugarcoat it with nice medical jargon—they’ve given up hope for his recovery. Today isn’t a good day to talk to me about hope.

  “We think it might be best—”

  I interrupt the speech he’s about to give. I’ve heard it enough to give it myself. “Why did we go through all the trouble of a tracheostomy if we were going to withdraw support? That seems really unnecessary.”

  Andrew nods in agreement.

  “Long-term intubation is damaging after a certain amount of time has passed, and Jacob had far exceeded that window. As I explained then, the infections we had begun seeing were only going to continue and likely get worse. It’s the standard medical recommendation for all brain-injured patients that have reached his vegetative state. And ultimately, we wanted him to be comfortable.” He clears his throat like he’s satisfied with his answer and ready to move on, which doesn’t satisfy me at all because it has only been a few days. “There’s no easy way to put this, and I’m so sorry that our current medical system often reduces patients to dollar amounts. However, your insurance company is refusing to pay to keep Jacob alive if he’s brain dead.”

  “Can they do that?” Andrew asks. It’s not the first time our insurance company has threatened to cut our funding or refuse to pay for certain procedures. Jacob’s expenses far exceed anything they expect to pay.

  “He’s been declared medically brain dead, and after so many days without any significant changes, they can petition to end his services. Honestly, I’m surprised that they waited this long to file the paperwork.” He pauses to glance
at Diana, who nods her approval, before he continues. “Lots of insurance companies with clients in Jacob’s state would do it within a matter of days, and his care would’ve been denied a long time ago.”

  “So we’re supposed to feel lucky?” Andrew’s eyes flare with anger.

  “Again, I’m so sorry. I wish there was something that I could do, but I can’t change the system, and we’ve done all we can do for him at this point.” Dr. Merck’s hands haven’t moved from their folded position.

  “What happens if we remove him from life support and he breathes on his own?” I ask, and everyone around the table looks at me like I’m a child who just asked how Santa Claus gets into houses that don’t have chimneys.

  “As I’ve explained before, the medical likelihood of that happening is very small,” Dr. Merck says in the same matter-of-fact way he does each time.

  Jacob’s neurologist, Dr. Gervais, jumps in. “Your odds of winning the lottery are better than Jacob being able to sustain life on his own, given the extent of his brain injuries.”

  “We understand that,” I say. She’s not the first doctor to throw out the lottery statistic.

  “We’ll figure out a way to pay for his care out of pocket,” Andrew says. He’s been as adamantly opposed to shutting off Jacob’s machines as me. We haven’t wavered no matter what they’ve presented, even threatening to get lawyers involved if we needed to. It’s never been a secret that most of Jacob’s medical team doesn’t agree with our decisions regarding his care.

  Dr. Merck and Dr. Levlon exchange glances. The others are silent.

  “Do you have any idea how much it costs to provide the round-the-clock medical care that Jacob requires?” Diana speaks up from the far end of the table. Her face is painted with makeup like she’s going out to a club instead of working as a hospital administrator, and her fake eyelashes don’t match the formal business suit stretched across her body.

  Andrew shrugs. “Money isn’t any issue when it comes to our son. Other families have been in our situation, and they’ve figured things out. We can have fundraisers. I can pick up an extra job.” We’ve already been talking about refinancing the house to help pay for the medical bills that have started piling up and all Andrew’s lost wages.

  Diana glances at a report splayed open in front of her, but I suspect she already has the information memorized. “It’s over eleven thousand dollars per day to care for Jacob. That’s several hundred thousand dollars a month to artificially sustain a life when all external signs of life have ceased.”

  “You can’t steamroll us into something we don’t want to do,” Andrew says as my heart sinks.

  “I’m not sure we’re being clear. It’s the next indicated step in his medical care, and your insurance has refused to pay for anything beyond that, so we can’t continue to treat him at this hospital once all the paperwork goes through.” Dr. Merck’s lips are set in a straight line.

  Dr. Levlon’s face is just as grim, and he nods curtly while Dr. Merck speaks to show his support. “We believe it’s in his best interest,” he says.

  “Well, we’re his parents, and we don’t, so is there anything else we need to talk about?” Andrew pushes his chair back from the table like he might be getting up to leave.

  “Your insurance company is refusing to pay for his continued support, and the hospital has a duty not to prolong his suffering,” Dr. Merck repeats.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Grant,” Diana addresses us together, sitting up straight in her chair. “You can fight this if you want, and you have every right to seek legal counsel to help you do so. You can even contact our human resources department and initiate a court order to stop this process.” She reaches into her suit pocket and pulls out a business card. She slides it across the table to Andrew. “There are families in your situation who choose to do just that. These are a few names of lawyers that they chose to help them with it. But please know, your fight might gain you a few extra weeks, maybe even a month or so, but eventually, you’ll be court ordered to let him go. And do you know what happens next?” She doesn’t wait for a reply. “You’ll have drained every penny you have on lawyer costs and court fees. And you have to ask yourself this—is that in the best interest of the rest of your children? Your family?”

  Andrew and I sit in stunned silence.

  “Maybe we should hear the rest of what they have to say,” I say softly after I’ve finally found my voice again. I can’t believe I’m saying the words, but it doesn’t seem like we have a choice, and I don’t know what else to do. My life is unraveling in front of me, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

  Andrew stubbornly shakes his head and just keeps repeating, “No.”

  Dr. Merck unfolds his hands and places one of them on Andrew’s back. “Listen to what your wife is trying to say.”

  Don’t listen to me. I have no idea what I’m doing or saying. I’ve never felt so lost or alone. There’s no ground underneath my feet.

  “What are you talking about, Lindsey?” Andrew gets up and rushes over to me, crouching next to my chair. He puts his hand on my arm. “What are you doing? Do you really want to be making this kind of decision in the emotional state you’re in?” His eyes are wide.

  I jerk my arm away. “I’m not in any emotional state,” I snap. Except that I am. I didn’t sleep at all last night. My head pounds; my stomach twists with bile.

  He points to my disheveled appearance. “Look at you. Clearly, you’re not in the best spot emotionally after you found out—”

  I cut him off, holding back tears. “Don’t worry about my emotions.” I can’t handle the public humiliation of his affair on top of everything else. I’m already crumbling under the weight of it.

  The room grows more uncomfortable.

  “Are you serious? You really want to talk about letting him go?” Andrew’s voice is thick with grief. All eyes are on us, but I can only see him. I give him a barely perceptible nod. He grabs both my hands to steady himself.

  “Why don’t we give the two of you a minute alone?” Dr. Merck suggests.

  Our minute alone has grown into four hours, but we can’t bring ourselves to leave this room because everything changes once we do. We’re only prolonging the inevitable, but it doesn’t matter. We’re not ready.

  We spent the first thirty minutes crying too hard to form words, let alone talk about anything. We clung to each other in a moment too intimate for words.

  “What do we do?” Andrew asked when he finally pulled away. His voice was stripped to nothing but raw pain.

  “We call Dan.”

  So that’s what we did, because it seemed like the most logical thing to do, but his advice wasn’t anything we wanted to hear. It matched what Diana had said. We could fight to stop the order, but it would be like trying to stop a moving train. Situations like ours are like divorce—nobody wins, and everybody gets hurt.

  Dan’s estimate of what it would cost to go to court was more than Diana’s. Andrew and I couldn’t help but admit that fighting would leave us financially ruined with two other kids to raise. Sutton just finished kindergarten, and it won’t be long before Wyatt is in college, doubling our tuition costs. Is it fair to them? Whose needs are more important? All of it made my heart sick.

  Our tears and conversation have stalled. Andrew lies with his head on his arms like he’s in detention, too spent to do anything else. I twist a loose string from my shirt around my finger over and over again while staring at the hands on the clock. I remind myself to breathe whenever the minute hand gets to the twelve. Nobody’s knocked on the door in fifty-four minutes. Maybe that means they’ve finally given up.

  Andrew lifts his head, and his eyes are tunnels of unrelenting pain. “I’m so sorry, Lindsey.” His voice cracks at the end.

  Is he talking about Jacob or about our marriage? “This is not the time.” I can’t hear his apologies now no matter what they’re about.

  “I always knew I was going to be punished for it.” There’s no m
istaking his reference. His leftover Catholic guilt runs deep, but we’re not bringing her into this moment.

  His stupid affair pales in comparison to losing our son. My guts are being ripped out. The weight of the loss makes it hard to breathe. We have to leave this room and face the world—a world that will never be the same again once we walk out those doors. My children’s innocent lives are shattered. Their hearts broke once, and we have to do it again before they’ve had any chance to heal. How do we explain our decision after everything we’ve been saying about Jacob and not giving up?

  There’s a knock at the door. Before we have a chance to respond like before, Dr. Merck sticks his head through. “I’m sorry, but it’s time to talk about next steps. We’ve waited as long as we can.”

  THIRTY-SIX

  DANI

  Caleb is sandwiched between Mom and me on the couch when my phone vibrates with a call. It’s the third time in the last five minutes. “Sorry, guys, but I have to take this.” I shrug out from underneath Caleb’s arm and stand, wiping the chip crumbs off the front of my shirt.

  “Is it Luna?” Mom glances up from the TV, instantly hopeful of a reunion. She has no clue how long Luna can ignore me if that’s what she wants to do, and she expects her to come running over any second, but Luna can ghost me for weeks if she wants to.

  I shake my head. “I wish. I’m thinking of driving by her apartment later tonight to see if her lights are on. Maybe I’ll park on the sidewalk for a while.” I pause for a second. “Or is that too stalkerish?”

  A small giggle escapes Caleb’s mouth. Mom and I freeze. It’s the closest he’s come to making a normal sound besides sobbing or yelling in his sleep. Did he notice it? Should I say something? He tosses popcorn in his mouth and stays focused on the movie. Mom’s gaping at him too. I don’t want to screw this up.

  Mom blinks like she’s suddenly come to her senses. “Yes, way too much, dear. Don’t do that. Give that poor girl some space.”