***
“So, Dr. Rashami and I have spoken at length,” the pulmonologist, Dr. Marks, said. “And we’ve also consulted with Dr. Cowan, the staff ICU doctor who has been monitoring Brianna’s care since she arrived.”
All of us were lined up on one side of the bed—me, Richard, Elodie, Tobias, and Mariah. The two men in white coats stood on the opposite side of the bed.
I looked down at Anna. This morning I’d asked a nurse if she could hear me when I spoke, and she’d said sometimes people remember things they heard when they were in a coma, and other times they didn’t. I got the feeling that whatever was going to be said now might be scary to Anna if she were listening, and I didn’t want her to suffer any more than she had to.
So I spoke up, even though it wasn’t really my place. “Do you think we could have this conversation somewhere else? The waiting room, maybe?”
Dr. Marks nodded and pointed to a door a few beds away. “Of course. Let’s do that. Why don’t we go into the isolation room? It’s empty today.”
We moved into a small, private room, and the doctor closed the door behind him.
“So, like I was saying, the two of us have conferred and spoken to the other members of Brianna’s care team. As you know, we did a high-definition CAT scan, some x-rays, and ran blood work. Basically, we’ve learned that Brianna’s LAM, her lymphangioleiomyomatosis, has progressed, causing blockages of the small airways and damage to her lung tissue. She also has a blockage in her lymphatic channel that has caused a good amount of fluid to collect in her chest and abdomen—fluid that shouldn’t be there.”
“So what do we do?” Tobias asked.
“Well, the fluid in her chest and abdomen can be drained. But that requires a surgical procedure. And even if we were to do that, there’s a good chance they would fill back up again. However, we know because of Brianna’s advance directive, that she did not want any lifesaving actions taken if she was to enter a state where she was unable to make her own health decisions.”
“So what will happen if we do nothing?” Richard’s voice shook as he spoke.
“Her lungs will continue to fill up and… Well, there’s no easy way to say this, but it needs to be said so you can make the right choices. She’ll basically drown in her own body.”
Mariah broke into a loud sob. Her husband put his arm around her and pulled her to his chest.
The doctors looked at each other. “We believe the right thing to do would be to turn off the ventilator before we reach that point.”
“Can she breathe on her own?” I asked.
The pulmonologist looked down and then back up. He cleared his throat. “No, that’s not likely.”
***
Everyone in this room knew the right answer. Anna had made her wishes crystal clear, so there was nothing to discuss. Yet two hours passed, and we were no closer to coming to a solid conclusion on the next step. The problem wasn’t figuring out what Anna would have wanted; the problem was that no one was ready to let her go.
I’d never use the term “pull the plug” in jest again as long as I lived.
Despite what we all knew in our hearts, the burden of officially making the decision and giving the go-ahead to her doctors lay in the hands of her father.
After a long period of silent rumination, Richard finally shook his head and said what we were all thinking.
“There’s no way around it. We need to respect her wishes. We have to let her go.” He pressed his fingers to his eyes to squelch the tears that came with that confirmation.
We all seemed to nod silently at once. It wasn’t necessary to confirm it aloud even one more time. The thought of having to take her off life support was killing me. And I hadn’t seen Anna in years. I couldn’t imagine what this felt like for her father or Elodie. I could feel tears building in my eyes, but I refused to release them. Out of all of these people, I didn’t have the right to be crying right now, didn’t have the right to upstage their sadness.
At one point, Richard went to speak to her doctor, and when he returned to the room, he looked absolutely devastated. I knew he’d given the go-ahead to turn off the ventilator.
Later that night, the hospital staff came in and did just that. It was quick, but the wait that ensued was excruciating.
A nurse escorted Anna’s grandmother in. I wasn’t sure how Nana Beverly had gotten to the hospital, because no one in this room had left to get her. She had to have been in her nineties now.
As the family held vigil around Anna, the stress of waiting for her granddaughter to die became too much for Bev. This couldn’t have been good for her own health. But I could understand her needing to say goodbye despite that.
Elodie wrapped her arms around Beverly and escorted her out of the room. I followed to make sure everything was okay.
“Someone needs to take her back to the nursing home,” Elodie said. “They sent a driver to bring her here, but I don’t think she should go back alone in this state.”
I was the best candidate to leave the premises, considering I wasn’t sure Anna would’ve wanted me here in the first place. I offered to drive Beverly back, not knowing whether Anna would be alive when I returned.
Nana Beverly definitely didn’t remember me, and I was fine with that. So distraught, the poor woman cried the entire drive. But somehow, focusing on Beverly helped keep my own feelings from spiraling out of control.
After I walked her inside the facility and saw to it that she was safely in her room, I rushed to my car to get back to the hospital.
I’d just fastened my seat belt when my phone lit up.
Elodie.
I picked up. “Hey. I was just heading back. What’s going on?”
There was a long pause.
My heart dropped.
Finally came the words I dreaded.
“She’s gone, Hollis.”
Chapter 43
* * *
Elodie
The days after Bree stopped breathing were a blur. I say stopped breathing, because it was really hard for me to use the word died. Died sounded so final.
I spent every waking hour helping Richard in any way I could: picking an outfit for her to be laid out in, ordering flowers, helping to arrange the after-service meal. While Bree had handled some of her arrangements prior to her death, no one person alone had the mental energy to handle the tasks that remained. So we had to do it as a team.
Hollis, like the rest of us, was still in shock. I hadn’t seen or heard from him in a couple of days, aside from quick check-in texts I initiated. As much as I needed him right now, I knew we also needed to give each other space to grieve.
Adding to the devastation of her final hours was the fact that Hollis hadn’t made it back in time to see her take her last breaths. She might not have been able to hear us, but saying those last goodbyes gave us some solace. Hollis missed a good portion of that because Bree succumbed pretty quickly.
When he’d arrived back at the hospital that night, his eyes were visibly red. I knew he’d had a good cry in the car after my phone call. I would probably never fully understand how he felt. I’d had my own close relationship with Bree, but nothing as intimate as Hollis had. With her gone now, neither he nor I would get the closure we needed. We’d never know whether she knew I was dating him before she died—whether we had her blessing, or whether she would have been upset.
Anytime I caught myself analyzing that fact, I reminded myself that right now the focus had to be on laying her to rest. And at the moment, I was doing what I needed to keep things moving: making a photo collage of her to be displayed at the funeral. I’d purchased two large canvas boards that I planned to cover with photographs. Sifting through albums in her bedroom, I removed the photos I felt best represented her life from childhood to adulthood. There were even a couple photos of Hollis and Bree when they were kids. I definitely stared at those the longest. I’d never seen photos of Hollis as a child until now. His hair was lighter, but he had the same beaut
iful face.
Richard had sent around an email to close family and friends asking if any of us wished to speak at her funeral. He asked us to “reply all” to the message so all the recipients could stay in the loop as to who was doing what.
I replied that it would be my pleasure to speak. Hollis indicated that he wasn’t sure how Anna would feel about him giving a speech, so he offered his help in any other way that was needed. He didn’t know I knew this, but Richard told me Hollis had insisted on covering the entire cost of the funeral. Richard had refused the money, but I knew Hollis would find a way to pay for it.
***
Because of Bree’s wishes, the family opted to skip a wake and planned just one service at the church, as opposed to a funeral parlor. The service would be followed by a burial. Her casket would be situated on the altar, surrounded by candles and flowers. She’d be put up on a pedestal, which was what she deserved.
Both Hollis and I arrived at the service early, but separately. He was dressed in a dark suit and pacing in front of the church when I arrived. I was certain he was reluctant to go in. As was I.
He spotted me as I approached.
“How are you doing?” I asked.
“I should be asking you that question,” he said.
“Pretty sure the answer is the same for both of us.” I adjusted his tie. “We’re early.”
“Yeah, I didn’t want to risk getting stuck in traffic. I’ve been here for a while.”
“How is Hailey?” I asked.
“She misses you, but she’s doing great. She’s really taken to Addison’s dogs. She and Peter have a big day planned—dog park and giving the mutts baths. I’m certain she’ll start begging me for one soon.”
“Not sure how Huey would like that. We wouldn’t want him to start barking, too.”
Hollis cracked a reluctant smile, probably just to appease me. This was certainly not the time for jokes, although I was desperate to feel anything but this pain.
“Anyway,” I said, “I’ll have to find a way to thank Addison for taking over for me.”
He looked down at his watch. “Why don’t we go inside?”
Hollis placed his hand on the small of my back as we walked into the church together. That slight touch gave me an ounce of comfort, as did how packed the church was. Addison was seated in the back pew and smiled sadly at both of us as we passed. I hadn’t even thought about her coming, but of course, she had—they were all friends at one time, and she and Hollis were thick as thieves.
The photo collages I’d made were displayed in the foyer, surrounded by white hydrangeas—Bree’s favorite flower. Hollis stopped to take in the images.
His eyes landed on the two photos of himself and Bree as kids. “Who put these together?”
“I did.”
I hoped he wasn’t mad, since I hadn’t checked with him to see if it was okay to use photos of him.
His eyes hadn’t left them. “Where did you find these?”
“In her closet.”
“I’m surprised she still had them.”
“She kept a lot of albums. She also collected concert ticket stubs, from, like, every concert she ever attended.”
“She loved going to live shows.”
Hollis leaned on the table for support and let out a deep breath. He shook his head.
“What are you thinking right now?” I asked.
He kept staring at the photos. “I just regret all of the years I didn’t speak to her, that I never checked in on her long enough to even know she was sick.”
“The way you handled it was understandable given the circumstances. That’s what most people would have done.”
He refused to accept that. “No. First and foremost, Anna and I were friends. That was how we started at a very young age. I wish I’d had a little more respect for that. I should’ve put my feelings aside and contacted her to make sure she was okay. That’s what friends fucking do. Not sure I can ever forgive myself for being so egotistical.”
“You don’t know whether she would have been forthright if you had. She never wanted people to perceive her as sick. She never talked about it until she had to.” Looking over at a photo of Bree and me, I said, “We all look back and wish we could have done things differently. When we lose people, we think about all the things we should have said or done. Like, I wish I hadn’t wasted so much of her precious time venting about my problems. She never seemed disinterested, even though she had so much of her own stuff going on. I never really thought anything would happen to her, as sick as she was. I’m still waiting for this to sink in.”
“I’ve been struggling a lot with the question of whether she’d want me here,” he said. “I basically abandoned her after she broke up with me. She would never expect me to be here, Elodie, even though I feel like I really need to be here.”
“I’m certain she’d want you here, Hollis.”
His eyes met mine. “I guess we’ll never know.”
***
Bree was laid out in a pink chiffon dress I’d chosen from her closet. Her attire was one of the things she hadn’t planned, so I did my best to pick out something I thought she’d like. Pink was her favorite color, and the dress had been hanging in her closet with the tags still on; she’d obviously intended to wear it but never had the chance. She looked beautiful, albeit a bit different with all the makeup they’d put on her.
I did the best I could to eulogize Bree without crying. I spoke about how important her friendship was to me, how she always made time for me, how she never stopped being a friend even when she was at her sickest. It was difficult reading while having to watch her father break down. And Hollis had his eyes on the floor the entire time I talked.
As I stepped down after my speech, I noticed Hollis stand up from his pew and begin walking toward the podium. All eyes were on him, because this wasn’t part of the itinerary. To my utter shock, he situated himself in front of the microphone and started speaking.
“I first met Brianna Benson in kindergarten—Anna, to me. These boys were teasing me because I’d pissed my pants during recess. And Anna overheard. She proceeded to scream at the top of her lungs until she scared them away, totally freaked them out. It was the most fantastic thing I’d ever witnessed in my life at the time.” He closed his eyes and smiled. “I was so indebted to her that I stole a ring from my mother’s jewelry box that night and gave it to Anna the next day—not with romantic intentions but as true payback.”
He glanced over at Bree’s dad. “Richard probably remembers that. Anna showed him the ring, and he realized it was real and worth hundreds of dollars. So Anna gave it back. I was grounded for a week when my mother found out. That was the end of my career as a jewel thief but the beginning of my long friendship with Anna. I’d make an ass of myself several more times through the course of our friendship. There’s that old debate about whether boys and girls can really be friends. We proved you could—for a very long time. Then I went and ruined it because I fell in love with her.”
He laughed slightly. “That wasn’t hard to do at all. Our friendship as we knew it ended when that happened. But we had more wonderful years together. She helped me through some of the most difficult days of my life when my mother was sick. That’s why I’ll always regret not being there for her during her own darkest days, which unfortunately I didn’t know about.” He looked down and swallowed to compose himself. “We lost touch over the years. Ironically, our relationship started with a ring and ended with a ring. But how or why it ended is not a story for today. It doesn’t matter why Anna and I disappeared from each other’s lives. What matters is the huge light she shined upon mine for the years we had together. What matters is my hope that she hears this from wherever she is so she understands how very much she meant to me and will always mean to me. And what matters is that all of you understand this: if someone means something to you, you shouldn’t let your ego allow you to erase them from your life. Because someday, you may not have the chance to tell t
hem all the things you wish you could. In honor of Anna, go home tonight and think of anyone you care about that you might not be in touch with. Take it from me, put aside your pride and let them know you’re thinking about them.”
He looked over at the casket. “I know I wish I had.”
***
The dinner after the service was held at Anna’s uncle’s restaurant. While Hollis and I sat next to each other during the meal, we didn’t talk much. I was still reeling from the emotional toll of this day, especially after Hollis’s speech. I was relieved that people weren’t talking and laughing as you often see at get-togethers after funerals. The mood all around was somber, as it should have been.
“I’ll be coming back to work on Monday,” I finally said. “So you can let Addison know.”
“Are you sure?”
“I think returning to work will be good for me. I really miss Hailey.”
“She’ll love that.”
I didn’t want to hear Hollis tell me he wasn’t ready for me to resume sleeping over at his house, that he wasn’t ready to go back to the way things were. So I decided to beat him to the punch.
“Since I’m right next door, I’ve let Bree’s dad know I’ll handle cleaning out her house. I can go in each night and make some progress. They told me to take my time, that they’re in no rush, but it’s still a lot of work. So, I’ll be heading back to Connecticut in the evenings to handle that.”
“Of course. That has to be done.”
And that was that.
Hollis hadn’t given me much eye contact today. I wasn’t sure if that was because he thought seeing the pain in his eyes would upset me.
When he finally looked at me, I said, “I’m proud of you for getting up there and speaking today. I know it wasn’t easy.”
“I wasn’t expecting to.”
“I know that.”
“I don’t even remember what I said.”
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