The Living End

by Lisa Samson

  I take a few deep breaths.

  Oh, my.

  “So what will happen?”

  “She’s in no condition for surgery, I’m afraid. Apparently, she has severe blockage of her arteries and may even need valve replacement. They’ll be running tests on her over the next few days. Catheterization, chiefly. We’ll know more after that, but don’t be surprised if she needs open heart surgery.”

  “Oh, my. Poor Peta.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll be in Zurich a while, Mrs. Laurel. And most likely they won’t want to risk a transplant in the future.”

  There is another way.

  I lay my head back on the pillow. “Thank you, doctor.”

  Thank you, God.

  Poor Peta!

  Yes, it’s all my fault. But I’ll make it up to her. I will. And I’ll convince myself that heart attack was meant to be anyway.

  Isn’t that so?

  It’s been nonstop for poor Peta, and yet I just sit and sit. She cried when she heard the news. “Why couldn’t it have happened after the transplant and not before?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Another lie.

  “We’ll get you through this, Cousin.”

  “They won’t do a transplant now.”

  “We’ll get through that, too. We’re in this together.”

  “Okay.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “How do you think I feel?”

  “That’s the Peta I know and love! You’ll get through that open heart surgery fine.”

  “They say the recovery won’t be easy, not with my decreased kidney function and all the fluid I’ll gain.”

  “You’ll get through.”

  “I have to. Somebody’s got to take care of you, Pearly.”

  “That’s right. You remember that.”

  So here I sit in the waiting room while Peta’s chest is spread wide open, obscenely exposed to the wide world.

  The society moves our belongings to an apartment provided by the hospital. This one isn’t nearly so nice, but I’m finding it’s a good place for prayer and contemplation. I plead wordlessly with God tonight, that He’ll spare Peta during the surgery, that all will be well. If it doesn’t go well, I will never forgive myself. Could I have searched harder for the way out? The answer is yes. I could have just told the truth.

  And the truth shall set you free.

  I can hear Maida now. “Be thankful that heart attack happened at a hospital.”

  Yes, I suppose there is that.

  And Yolanda? “Pearly Everlasting! Maybe God used your harebrained plot to put Peta in the right place at the right time! Remember ‘All things work together for good!’ Saint Paul couldn’t have been wrong.”

  To which I’d answer, “And why not?” Just to get under her skin.

  This thought makes me smile as I look out my window over a quiet, midmorning street. Zurich is so lovely.

  “I’m sorry, God. I’m so sorry.”

  I feel a sugar-coated love pull me into its sweetness, not an easy-guiding move, but a quick, jerky pull. And I am warm and filled with hope.

  We pull up to the farmhouse. All is quiet and still.

  “I never thought I’d be so glad to get home,” Peta says, thinner than ever but with good color.

  “You said it.” It’s good to see the place, so familiar and kind. “Let’s get inside and then I’ll unload. I want to put the kettle on.”

  I escort her up the steps. She’s so frail, but I’ll fatten her up. It’s my job. I’ve got a lot of jobs now.

  The afternoon sunshine reflects the sky onto the windowpanes of the kitchen door. “What would you think if I just moved in over here, Peta?”

  “Good. We could bring Harry home too.”

  “You wouldn’t mind?”

  “Are you nuts? Did you lose your brains over in Zurich?”

  I laugh. “Get in there, you old curmudgeon.”

  I unlock the door and settle her at the kitchen table. What a ritual we’ve already developed. What a beautiful thing.

  I put the kettle on and hear a crash from the living room.

  “What was that?” I say.

  “I don’t know. Do you think an animal got in while we were gone?

  “Let’s hope that’s all it is.”

  I’m not all that great at moments like this, moments that can be benign or frightful. “I’ll go see what it is.”

  “I’ll go with you, Cousin. You’ve got that look on your face.”

  “Oh, Peta.”

  We tiptoe across the kitchen floor, and I push the swinging door open a crack.

  “Surprise!”

  Oh, my!

  I look at Peta, her eyes shining, and we push the door open completely. They’re all there. All of them. Even Matthew’s roommate, Brett, from California.

  “Oh, my goodness, you all!” I shout.

  “Welcome home!” Yolanda runs forward. “You all are a real sight for sore eyes!”

  Hugs all around! Oh, good, squishy warm big hugs with lots of tears in between. A reunion of hearts and souls. A regular mishmash of sentimentality that will be remembered for years by everyone.

  “Well, you tried!” Maida says as we all fill our plates with her food and Yolanda’s too.

  “I guess it’s all you can do.”

  “Yeah. That’s right. I thought it was very noble of you, Pearly.”

  “Thanks, Maida.”

  “In fact, I don’t think many people realize how very noble it actually was.”

  I look at her sharply. Her eyes narrow, and she pulls a slip of paper from her pocket. “I found this while I was stripping the sheets in Peta’s room. Sitting right there on the dresser as pretty as you please.”

  “And you read it?”

  “Of course I did! And all the others you expected Peta to give out. You are a mess!”

  I say nothing. She’s read it all.

  I fill my plate with ribs, potato salad, macaroni and cheese, and green beans. Pickled beets too, which I love, and I surely do hope Maida will say nothing else. I don’t want her to ruin the relief I feel, the joy, the anticipation of what life will be. I don’t want her to be my party pooper.

  So I decide to take control. “I’d like to have that back.”

  “I figured that. But I ran into Salisbury and made a copy just in case.”

  “Maida!”

  “I’m only kidding with you, Pearly. Here. I wouldn’t dream of telling Peta or anybody else. Not even Shrubby, who I’m learning just can’t keep a secret.”

  “That’s the truth.”

  We saunter into the kitchen, our plates full. I grab us each a Coke, and we sit down at the table.

  “Just tell me one thing,” Maida says. “What on earth possessed you to do such a thing?”

  I think for a bit. “I think I blamed it on love at first. But when it comes down to it, I was just too scared to go on. This seemed to be a noble way to go.”

  “Oh.” She bites into a rib. “Oh, these are good.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “So then, why are you so happy now? Your plan failed.”

  “Well, Maida, a funny thing happened along the way. I realized I didn’t want to die after all, but I didn’t know how to tell Peta it was all off. Thank goodness it worked out like it did. For me anyway. Peta will still suffer, and I wish there was something I could do to ease it. Other than being around.”

  “Pearly, that’s the most any of us can do. My mother always said that half the battle in life is simply showing up.”

  “That I can do.”

  Yolanda’s voice echoes from the family room. “Pearly Everlasting!”

  “Yeah, Yo?”

  “Come take a picture of the cake. We’ve all decided you need to get going as family chronicler.”

  I shrug at Maida and arise from the table. “Why not?”

  As I enter the room, Yolanda hands me a camera. “What’s this?”

  “Your new digital camera! Anyone
willing to give up a kidney deserves a little present!”

  Harry sits and smiles, nodding. Matthew gives me a hug and a peck on the cheek.

  “Well then, let me hide in the corner a bit and look at the instructions for a couple of minutes.”

  Yolanda puts her hands on her hips. “And nobody better even think about touching that cake!”

  It doesn’t take long. These things practically run themselves. I take a picture of a large sheet cake sporting a hot air balloon and the words, “Up, Up, and Away.” And I assemble the whole group around it.

  Yes, the family chronicler. And what a crazy family it is. There are twelve of us now, and only three related by blood. But to my way of thinking, that isn’t a prerequisite, not anymore. They love me, and I love them, and that’s all there is to it.

  And Joey would approve. No doubt about it. In fact, I think he’d proclaim the whole thing quite brilliant. I fish in my tote bag for the diamond tie pin, and I attach it to the strap of my new camera. The list lies folded in the corner of the bag, one item left to do. Beside it rests my photo album.

  I stand tall in the middle of the living room. “I’d like to make an announcement concerning this year’s Easter dinner.”

  Peta says, “Listen up, everyone. This is family business.”

  “We’re all going to Haussner’s, and we’re going to order one of every single thing on that menu, and we’ll raise our glasses to Joe Laurel and thank him for changing our lives for the better.”

  “Hear, hear!” shouts Yolanda.

  And three weeks later, we do just that.

  I withdraw the list from the tote bag, the only item left inside besides the final picture in the photo album. Joey and me saying our vows, hands clasped together, ready for a lifetime of love. I lay them both on his grave.

  “Hi, Joey. I finally came.”

  I sit down next to the headstone. “I’m done. I finished it all, but you know that already, don’t you?”

  How can I be sure? Well, I don’t know, but I’m positive he sees, because faith is like that. Faith takes what you know in your heart to be true, runs it around inside your brain with the things you know are false, and, without bothering to ask permission, fills your soul with hope and assurance until you know, without a doubt, that what you believe to be true … is exactly so.

  About the Author

  Lisa Samson would like to write here that she is an award-winning author. And indeed she has won many awards, including: first place in the sixth-grade art contest in 1976, as well as “Most Spirited Cheerleader” in 1982. Both the blue ribbon and the trophy are nowhere to be found. Instead, she counts husband Will and their three children, her siblings, family, and friends as her life’s greatest rewards. Next in line would be her twice-weekly trip to Starbucks near her home in Maryland.

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