They carry her out, one fireman holding the IV bag up over his head. “Don’t worry, ma’am. We’ll see you at Central. Don’t try to follow us. In fact, don’t try to drive.” He hands me Chloe’s phone, now covered in her drying blood. I wipe it on my shirt. “Do you want me to call someone for you?”
“No, just help her.” I follow and stand, watching as the flashing lights bathe the evening in red lights. The back doors close, and they leave with my precious cargo.
……
I don’t know where to start. I’m shaking as I scroll through her recents. Mason pops up at least twenty times. I hit Mom first. The worst moment of my life is when Chloe’s mom answers with a laugh. “Chlo-Bug.”
It breaks my heart to explain what happened to her Chlo-Bug. In my care for 24 hours and this happens.
“I’ll meet you there.” As I stand in the middle of the street, a car honks. He gives me an angry look, which changes to surprise. “Do you need help?” he asks.
I do. I need help. I need someone to come in and take over and tell me what exactly the fuck I need to do next. I don’t even know where to start. I can’t fix this.
I wave the driver away with a thank you and head back up to Chloe’s, praying the whole way that she’ll be alive when I get to her.
Then it hits me. She might not. I mean, you saw for yourself, first hand, what she looked like. All the blood.
Chloe’s not just sick, Chloe’s dying. I drop down on the bottom step and hug my legs to my chest. This is too much! I’m overwhelmed, sobbing. The horror of what just happened—to Chloe—has just caught up with me. The stress of my ordeal hits me. Shaking all over, my teeth chattering, I can’t seem to get warm.
It’s then that I realize I walked out of Chloe’s apartment in boxer shorts and a T-shirt and left my purse, keys, and phone inside. Shit. When did Chloe start locking doors?
I look down at what I do have. Chloe’s phone. Thank God. I can’t remember her password. Shit. There’s a list of missed calls on the locked screen. I push one. Mason, her end friend. I hope he’s not worse off than Chloe, because I need a ride, and I hope he can drive.
“Did your other best friends get tired of you, is that why you’re finally calling me back? I’m just giving you a hard—”
“Mason,” I manage to choke out.
Mason
“Chloe’s….” she sobs.
Please don’t say it.
“What?” I ask in a voice I don’t recognize as my own.
“She’s very sick. She’s at the hospital. Can you give me a ride?” I’m relieved to hear she’s at the hospital. That means there’s still hope.
“Where are you?” I ask, grabbing keys and my shoes.
“Chloe’s. Please hurry.”
“I’m coming,” I say over the roar of the engine.
I make the forty-minute drive to Chloe’s in fifteen minutes, and I don’t know if it was on the freeway or side streets. I can’t think about anything but her. Maybe it’s a hangover and she just needs an IV. Maybe she fell and broke her hip.
Even my optimism sounds forced in my own head. I pull in, and there’s the angel from the bar crying on the hood of a dirty car. When my headlights hit her, she stands, and all I see is blood.
I throw the car in park and jump out. “Are you okay?”
She doesn’t answer, just flings herself at me. I grab her and hold her to me. She’s freezing. “I can’t get into Chloe’s. I locked myself out. I don’t know what to do!” She looks up, a smudge of blood on her face. That’s Chloe’s blood. “Mason, help me.”
I nod. “I’m here.”
I pull her in tighter. She’s shaking, crying, and I make the decision. I know where Chloe’s spare key’s at. I put it there myself. But if I tell her, she’s going to try to drive herself. I don’t want that. Chloe wouldn’t want that. Chloe, why are you bleeding? My own tears falling now. “How bad is she?” I ask. She looks up, finds my eyes, and starts to cry harder.
I kick myself. Hold it together, Mase. Both of us can’t be a mess. One of us has to drive. I walk her around to the passenger side, taking off my jacket and placing it around her shoulders.
“Put on your seatbelt,” I say and pull out.
“They took her to Central.”
She’s hugging my jacket tighter around her. I hold a hand in front of her vent and look at her. She’s got her eyes closed. Her head’s tilted back and she’s taking deep breaths. Trying to calm herself, she’s using my jacket as a surrogate hug.
I turn into the parking structure and am surprised when she asks in a controlled voice, her eyes still closed, “You don’t have cancer, do you, Mason?”
“No.”
“Why does Chloe call you her ‘end friend’? Did she make a wish on your site—which she won’t stop talking about—for you to end it for her?”
As I turn the engine off, I turn to her. “Lola, no. Chloe’s never asked for that, ever. She’s not like that. I’m not like that.”
“Oh, she’s not? Then why is she wearing a bracelet that asks people to let her die? Sounds like the kind of girl that might hire someone to kill her.”
Ah. Conspiracy theories. I’ve been there. Just another form of denial.
I lay my hand face up on the center console, inviting not demanding. I just give her a minute. To think it through. I look towards the glass doors. That’s our destination. We’re not getting in to see her.
I feel her touch, like a feather in my palm. I close my hand. She squeezes back.
.Chloe.
She thinks, and then turns to me., “It must be really bad. For her. The pain must be so bad. Mason, you’ve been talking to her, was she...?”
I lean back and try to find it. The strength I’m going to need. I nod.
She lowers her voice. “Mason. I did something…I didn’t realize…I didn’t know.”
And she holds up Chloe’s anklet and says, “Go, Mason.”
I’m out of the car and through the doors, watching the doctor approach her family, bending down to talk to them, a hand on their shoulders.
“Hey!” I yell, like I can change anything. “Hey, Dr. Fitzmann! Chloe’s a DNR!”
Her Dad’s on his feet, looking around. He finds me, a thunderous expression on his face. “Chloe’s not dying,” he shouts, louder than me. He wins.
I bend over, trying to catch my breath, and Dr. Fitzmann puts a hand on my shoulder, giving it the barest squeeze. I smile wide and hand him the bracelet.
“Thank you, Mason. She’s stabilized for now.” He looks over at both her parents as he says, “You’re a good friend. But my name is on the bracelet.” He slaps my back.
Chloe’s dad continues to glare at me, but the smile on Chloe’s mom’s face makes up for it.
I look out the windows. “Excuse me.”
Lola’s hopping across the pavement. I run over and grab her around the waist. “She’s stabilized!” I yell as I swing her around before carrying her to the hood and sitting her up there.
“Woo,” she breathes out.
I grab my gym bag and put a flip-flop on each of her feet. “They’re wayyyy too big,” comes out before I even think about it. Sometimes I can be a little…dense.
She looks at my sandals from all sides. With a smirk, she says, “Nah. If anything, they look about average. Maybe a little on the small side.” She holds up her fingers, thumb and index finger almost touching.
I smile down at her. She holds both hands over her head and smiles back. I pull the sweatshirt over her head.
And I hug her to me. It’s a messy Chloe hug, just a headlock really, but it makes us both feel better.
I take her hand, giving it the barest squeeze. I’m here.
She looks at her own tiny blood-splattered hand engulfed in mine. “Hmmm, maybe bigger than average.”
Lola
When he takes my hand like that, it’s like he’s picking up a corner of the heavy burden I’m carrying. It’s still heavy, but so much easier to carr
y with two people. I squeeze back.
Chloe’s parents are not in the lobby when we go in. I want to freak out, scream, holler. I always think the worst. Mason feels me stiffen and says, “It’s okay. They’re just in the room with Chloe. Try to relax, Lola.” He smiles. “We’ve got a long road ahead of us.”
I do. There’s something in his voice. He sounds like a superhero.
“Captain Whiskey,” I mutter. Then louder, ’cause it’s some funny shit, and I need it. I practice for Chloe. She’ll love this. “’Cause he’s smooth. Get it?”
He looks at me like I’m the funniest thing on this earth, but says, “Smooth? What kind of superpower is that?”
I laugh along with him.
Mason
It’s so good to hear her laugh. It’s one for the good guys. I join her. “I’ll have to shave every day with that name.” She leans against me, and I lean down.
But she pulls away, her face crumbling. “What are we doing? Laughing?”
I hear the anger in her voice.
“Don’t. Not that. Don’t use Chloe as an excuse to be sour, miserable.” I throw my head back and laugh loud. “Are you kidding me? She would be furious if I told her…and I’m gonna.”
She’s smiling, but trying to suppress it. Somehow duck lips on her look quite sexy. I might have to rethink my stance on them. On her, it looks like she’s inviting me in for a kiss. I lean in and keep leaning, then stand. Chloe’s dad will kick my ass if they come out of that room and we’re making out, hot and heavy in the lobby. She looks up at me, a devilish glint in her eyes as she does the face. The look from the picture! It looks like her bottom lip is trying to eat her top lip.
Lola
“Go ahead.” I wave him away. “She won’t believe a word of it, after I get through with her. I’ve got friend seniority.”
Mason
“Don’t you do it. Don’t try to smile. We’re supposed to be suffering. Don’t do it.” I’m teasing her.
She smiles wide, really over the top, and shoves her smile in my face, really mugging it up.
“There it is!”
“Go get me a Coke, please.” She swats at my arm, but I’m already moving. Breathing a little deeper, standing a little taller, feeling like I got this. That’s what that smile does to me.
……
Lola
Chloe’s mom, Lana, walks into the waiting room. We’ve been waiting about an hour, but she looks like she’s gone nine rounds. She slumps against the wall, leans then slides all the way down. Her face in her hands. I run over, kneeling by her. “Lana?”
She raises her head and swipes at her tears before giving me a fake smile. I take her hand and squeeze, trying so hard to send that feeling. The one Mason gave me…hope.
She squeezes back. “It’s not Chloe. She’s still here. It’s me. I’m having a hard time with all this.”
Mr. Richardson strides up and takes his wife in his hands. I can’t look away. He reaches down and grabs her, lifting her into his hug. Tucking her in safe against his side. “We’re gonna do this for her,” he whispers against her auburn hair. I bite my lip, to hold back a sob and try to turn away, give them privacy.
And I turn into Mason’s chest. His arms come around me. And I release a breath and let go, pressing my head to his chest.
Chloe’s mom raises her head and looks at us. She smiles and pats Mr. Richardson. He’ll always be Mr. Richardson to me. He’s old school—none of that first-name crap with him, and then he’s smiling at me? Us?
Mason lets me go. I turn and return the smile, although I’m confused.
“Chloe’s project worked! Oh, she must be so happy!”
She’s overjoyed, laughing through her tears as she beams at us.
Mason and I look at each other. He doesn’t know what’s going on any more than I do. “Lana, she said she was doing a testimonial.”
Mason looks confused. “No, she was working on an art project. The Brass Ring, she called it. I thought it was the Ferris wheel in the picture.”
Chloe’s mom nods, a look of triumph on her face. “That’s the one.”
She makes air quotes and says, “Reach out and grab it,” and points to both of us.
I drop into a chair. My eyes glisten, but I’m smiling. The minx. I turn to Mason. “She’s trying to fix us.”
Mason looks down at me, and frowns.
“What is that look about?” he begs, but I’ll keep him guessing.
I ignore him. It’s a bad habit of mine, but I’m willing to work on it. Just not yet.
I follow Mason to the chairs, giving her parents some room. Feeling like… Wait, what? Did she do it? Give me away?
“Lana!” I holler across the empty room.
“Lola!” she hollers back, walking out of the ladies’ room right next to me. She’s still drying her hands, getting ready to go back in with Chloe.
I wink at Mason. “Don’t tell Chloe you said anything to us. Not a word. Just let her plan play out. Let her finish what she started. If it’s this important, please.”
Lana smiles and takes my face in her hands. Paper towels between us, she kisses me on the forehead. “Thank you for being her everything friend. You never let her down.”
She dabs at the tears that are falling from my eyes.
Mason
“Mason.” Chloe’s mom holds out her hand. I grab it, trying to swallow a lump that won’t go down. “I’ve seen the tapes. She sent them to me, so that, well…I was helping her.”
She licks her lips and smiles as fresh tears course down her cheeks. “She was helping me too. On the tapes, saying the things she couldn’t say to me, but wanted me to know.”
No matter how strong I’m trying to be, no matter how many times I swallow, it doesn’t help when Lana says, “I don’t care what they say about you, you’re a good boy.” When she pats my shoulder, I lose it.
She hugs me close. “She’s waiting for you.”
Lola
Lana pulls me into the hug. I slide my hand around Mason, ready to pinch him if he upsets Chloe’s mom, but he coughs or chokes and looks down at me. “I’m good,” he says.
I nod. “I’ll just wash up and be down in a minute.”
I squeeze them both, one more time, and excuse myself.
Mason
It’s getting easier every time. For Lola. She turned to me like it was the most natural thing. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Chloe just sent you a new DVD. The old one’s worn out, needs to be replaced. Chloe’s mom, taps me on the shoulder. “Ready?”
I cringe, like she just read my thoughts. Chloe’s not a worn-out, old DVD. Why would that thought even enter my head?
I follow behind her mother, surprised that she just starts to open the door. “Don’t we need…” I motion to my face, covering my mouth.
She gives me a smile full of knowledge. There is wisdom there that I will never know. It reminds me so much of my mother, the solemn smile she would give me when I needed to learn a hard lesson.
I blink stupidly. I should be hugging her, giving her hand a squeeze. At the very least I should get this stupid look off of my face.
I drop and do fifty, right there in the hall.
Alarmed, she asks. “Mason, are you…”
Then I hear it. Like birds chirping on a sunlit morning. “Is he doing push-ups out there?”
Her mom mumbles something.
Chloe: “He’s okay. It’s his thing, when he’s nervous. Just give him a minute.”
Sweat and tears run down my face. And I’m wearing a stupid grin.
……
“Never have I ever… had to say goodbye.” It hurts to hear it.
“You’re chucking me? Weaning me now? That’s not happening.” I sit right on Lana’s lap.
Both ladies giggle.
Then it hits her. “No. I just needed your legwork for my get-together tomorrow night, when I say goodbye. I’m making a request, Mason. I had to put it into the form of a question.”
Sh
e leans back, an oxygen mask on her face. All that she’ll allow. No masks on the visitors, not one. Dr. Fitzmann had to write an actual order before Chloe was satisfied. Even though she has no white blood cells to defend herself—and my being here right now is putting her at risk—she doesn’t care. “Does it matter now?” she asks.
I shake my head. She’s breathing heavy. It’s tough work. She winces every so often, and then freezes. It’s pain. Her mom reassures her, letting her know that the nurses are setting up the pain pump.
Anxiety coats my voice. “Is it Courtney? She likes me, I could get her—”
Chloe holds up a hand, her fingers curled in. “Don’t get any linen closet ideas. She doesn’t work here anymore, remember? And I thought I was the one with the memory problem.”
Even this simple conversation, her favorite pastime lately, pains her. I do what I do best, make her smile.
“Okay, what is it you need? I’ve got Star-Spangled Bikini waiting on me in the hallway.”
From right outside the door, I hear, “Chloe, you showed him? I swear, you’re lucky you have cancer, because I could kill you.” She barges in, with a clean face, and goes on and on about the suit—it was too small—but all I can focus on is Chloe’s face. The same thing Lola’s doing as she goes into a tirade about messes.
Her eyes are bright and full of love. She’s smiling around the mask.
Her eyes go to the doorway. Ronny’s there.
“Hey bro.” He whispers and walks right over to her bed and snuggles against her, his camouflage cap falling to the floor. “You’re not at the peeing-the-bed stage yet, are you?”
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