by Guy, Caitlin
We all laugh hysterically at the last crude suggestion. “No, no, no...” I groan. “We are intelligent, creative people! We can think up decent goals!”
Jayden just laughs even harder.
Suddenly Paul’s arm flies up and connects with my face. I’m knocked back into my chair, gasping for breath as the pain in my nose and across my cheek kicks in.
“What the–” I start, before setting my eyes on Paul’s flailing body.
His limbs shake uncontrollably. My eyes close of their own volition, opening again to the thump of Paul’s leg against Jayden’s, who is on his feet, pushing the emergency button and calling desperately for the nurses and doctors. I sit, frozen, my back stiff against the chair. Foam drools from the corners of Paul’s mouth. His eyes roll back; his pupils disappearing into the back of his skull. The sound of choking filters through my senses, somehow louder than Jayden’s yelling.
I reach out to grab Paul’s arm, but rough hands pull me away. A body presses me into the far wall. Medical personnel swarm around Paul’s bed like flies around an open wound. They drop the bed flat and jab a needle into his arm. Calm, demanding voices call orders and read the statistics of Paul’s sudden decline. I try to understand what they’re saying; it sounds like mindless buzzing. It’s a blurred picture as tears cloud my vision.
“Calm down, Allie, they’re helping him. He’s going to be okay,” Jayden says in my ear. It is his body that is holding mine away from Paul. I ignore him, craning to see over his shoulder and through the nurses crowding Paul’s bed.
Another screen starts beeping frantically. A doctor immediately starts pumping Paul’s chest. I watch the man’s muscles ripple in slow motion as they thump down on Paul’s chest. It looks painful, but Paul’s eyes are closed. His body is limp, moved only by the pounding on his chest. My breath catches in my throat as they wheel across a large defibrillator. They set the paddles on Paul’s chest.
I start praying.
“Clear!”
I can hear the sound of the charges; sharp and aggressive. His body doesn’t arch like it does in the movies. I cling to the hope that it isn’t supposed to look like that — and maybe it isn’t, but Paul’s heart doesn’t start. Hands fly back to his body and the shouting starts once again.
“Clear!”
The charge runs through.
“Clear!”
The world starts spinning. Jayden’s grip on me tightens. My vision blurs. I gasp for air, for myself, for Paul. I beg and pray, mumbling desperately as the time spans from seconds to minutes.
“Clear!”
My heart skips a beat and I bite my lip so hard that my mouth is awash with blood. The room smells like blood, sanitiser, and sweat. Paul’s body lays still, unmoving.
“Clear!”
With one last thwack, the defibrillator falls silent. The murmuring of nurses stops. All the sounds cease and the world is eerily quiet. I can still feel Jayden’s chest rise and fall. His mouth rests near my ear. I feel his breath on my skin. But I hear nothing. Then the silence is broken by a single sentence. It is as shocking as falling through ice and plunging into cold, dark water.
“Time of death: 16:11.”
A nurse calmly writes the time on a file. Two nurses walk from the room.
“NO!” I scream, fighting with all my strength. “No!” I break through Jayden’s restraining arms and push my way to Paul. Arms graze my sides but I make it to the bed. I bring my arms down, punching Paul’s chest with all the strength left in my body.
“Come back!” I cry. I draw my hands up again, but I am pulled roughly from Paul’s body.
“Allie! Calm down! Shhhhh, it’s okay, it’s okay.”
I scream. It’s not okay. Already, his skin is too white, too rigid. Maybe it’s my imagination, but death has already painted his face on Paul’s. I cry and moan and scream, as though it might wake Paul from a slumber. I get louder and louder, until I feel the sharp pain of a needle and, suddenly, the world disappears. Just one phrase enters my mind, steeling itself against my fear and pain, against every fibre of my body. It destroys the morsel of hope I had left.
“Time of death: 16:11.”
Chapter 13
The sun cuts through the room as Dad pulls the curtains back, violently. My arms draw around my body. I hold myself in a close ball, squeezing by eyelids tighter. My whole body hurts. The pain runs from my feet, up to my head, but I don’t move.
He’s dead.
Although I know it’s true, I’m still waiting for him to come striding through the door with some lame pick-me-up to pull me out of this depression. It hangs like a cloud around my head. Everything seems darker and out of focus. My heart is tight and my fingers press into my thighs.
The longer I stay here, the more unsure I become. I play out his death in my mind, over and over, to find that moment where it could’ve been prevented. Maybe I should’ve seen it coming. Maybe his doctors should have taken him off the trial. The more I think about it, the angrier I am and the sicker I feel. It shouldn’t have happened.
So, why? Why did it? He was the one who was going to live. He had life and hope in his eyes, even up to those final moments. He fought it with everything he had. It should’ve been enough. How can people with so much inner strength and courage just die; or cease to exist like that?
I hear Dad’s soft tread cross the room. He stops by the side of the bed. “Get up, Allie.”
I try to tuck my head further into the bundle that is my body. A stabbing pain shoots through my head. We have a routine now: someone demands that I get up, they appeal to my reason, then they try the guilt trip and, finally, they leave, having made no progress.
This time is different.
Dad’s rough hands grab my body and pull me into a sitting position. He handles my body easily. It’s like I weigh nothing. My eyes fling open but I keep my head bowed, avoiding his gaze.
“Allie! I won’t let you waste away in this godforsaken hospital. You will get up. You will live your life. And you will stop trying to kill yourself! Paul is dead. You are not!”
I’ve never heard him so angry. I close my eyes again and try to forget that he’s there. My fingers dig harder into my skin until my nails draw blood.
“Allie! Get out of this bed!” he yells. “You’re my daughter and I’m not going to watch you die like this.”
He seizes my arms and pulls me out of the bed. My body unfurls against my will. The sheets fall from my side and my feet automatically fall to the ground, attempting to catch me; but they can’t stand the weight. Dad wraps his arms around my waist before I can fall.
“Let me go!” I gasp.
“No.” His voice is so powerful, the force seems to ripple through the air and cut through my heart. It hurts.
“I’m dying! You have to let me go!”
“You are not dying now! Wake up, Allie! You have people in your life who love you and want to spend every single lasting moment with you. What about Josh and your mother?! What about Jayden and Hailey? They’re going to be feeling the exact same way that you are now when you die, but they will also have a load of regret and guilt because you died like this!” He pulls me up as he speaks, trying to make me stand tall.
“Like what? Like I’ve accepted it?” I challenge.
“Depressed. Angry. Sad. Detached from everyone and everything that means something to you.” He spits each word and each feels like a blow. Although he is still holding me upright, his arms feel like steel bars; a cage holding me in.
“You don’t know what I’m going through!” I scream.
“You’d be surprised, Allie. Maybe if you actually talked to me, then you’d know. I saw two of my close friends die in a car crash when we were just a little older than you.”
“It’s not the same,” I mutter.
“I’m not finished, Allie. I liked Paul – of c
ourse I’m upset that he’s dead. And then, his death is everything that I fear for you. His death makes your illness all the more confronting and real.”
Tears stream down my face, and, for the first time since Paul died almost a week ago, I let myself cry. The sobs catch in my throat, ripping through my body and choking my breathing. I gasp, my legs going weak and collapsing altogether. Dad catches me and pulls me onto the edge of the bed. He holds me tightly. My head rests on his chest as I heave. His arms wrap securely around my shaking body.
We sit there for what seems like hours until I can’t keep going anymore. I feel numb with grief. Dad doesn’t let go. He holds me like he did when I was very small and just like then, it feels like the safest place in the world. Every so often he murmurs a comforting word, or just tells me that he loves me.
“The others really want to see you, Allie. Can they come in?” he asks gently, finally breaking the embrace so he can look me in the eyes. I nod.
“Good. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
He helps me pull on a thin dressing gown and guides me to the small basin in the adjoining bathroom. I wash my face and somewhat organise my hair into a braid. It’s so dirty and matted that it stays in place without a hair band. I must have lost a lot of weight, because my dad’s getting older and when I fall on the way back to my bed he simply swings me up into his arms and carries me the remaining few metres.
Then he exits the room. The second hand on the clock does a full rotation before Josh and Mum enter the room. Josh immediately claims the seat by my side and Mum stands at the end of the bed. The lines in her face are like trenches in a war. Another pain of guilt hits me as, for the first time since Paul died, I think of how they must be feeling. He was my friend, but they all liked him. If I hadn’t cried so much before they arrived, I would’ve sobbed it all out there and then.
“Allie.” Josh’s smile lights up his face, although there are shadows under his eyes and his hair is almost as greasy as mine is knotted. He grabs my hand, holding on to it like he’s never going to let go.
“Oh, sweetie.” Mum exhales loudly.
A thick silence falls upon us, until Josh starts telling me about a girl at school. It is the perfect distraction. Dad teases him gently and their banter makes Mum and I smile. Then he talks about school and how a guy in his class almost got suspended for spilling a bottle of water on one of the staircases. Dad follows up with stories of how his friends got suspended one year at school. The hands on the clock do circles until hours have passed and there is a gentle knock at the door. It opens and Jayden pokes his head through.
“Hey. Can Hailey and I come in?”
Dad nods and they enter. Josh gets up to make room for them and Mum suggests the family go downstairs for lunch, offering to sneak me up a muffin. They shuffle from the room. Jayden takes Josh’s place and Hailey drags a chair across the room to sit next to him. They don’t say anything at first. Jayden brushes the loose strands of hair from my face. Our eyes meet and he leans over to kiss my forehead. Then he brushes his lips against mine.
“I love you,” he tells me.
“I love you too,” I whisper. “And I’ll be better. I’m sorry.”
He nods. Hailey puts her hand on mine, joining Jayden’s. Then she removes it and pulls a folded sheet of paper from her pocket.
“Jayden showed me this,” she says. “He was going to throw it out. But I convinced him we should complete it anyway.”
She hands me the paper and I see our bucket list; Paul’s bucket list. My breath catches and I feel a sharp shock reverberate through my chest. I fight the sudden urge to cry, or throw up.
“It was Paul’s thing, Hailey … I can’t. Just let it go.”
“Allie,” Jayden says softly, sliding another stray of hair from my face. “This will be good for you. We’ll all help you complete it. It will be fun — and it’ll give you some purpose.”
I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. When I open them again, I look up and glare — like it’s the ceiling’s fault that he’s dead. The same drug that is helping me, killed him. It feels like my fault.
“Please, Allie… Let’s do this,” Hailey begs. She gives me puppy dog eyes.
Even though I can tell she’s worried for me, she still manages to exude positivity. I’m suddenly scared that I might snuff her happiness with my sickness. Jayden, too, looks like he’s hitched his final hope on completing the bucket list. So, I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again, pressing my head further into the pillows.
“Fine. We’ll do it.”
“Good,” Hailey says. I have an unexpected epiphany that she might get everything she wants with that face of hers. She can wrap even the most unsympathetic of people around her little finger. “I’ll map out a plan. Here, you read this in the meantime.”
She hands me a magazine and Jayden rolls his eyes. I open it and flick through the pages. Jayden points out an image or phrase every so often, making a comment or linking it back to something he wanted to tell me. We sit like that for another hour until Jayden’s alarm goes off. His hand snaps into his pocket and stops the annoying sound.
“Gotta go!” he announces, grunting as he heaves himself from the chair by my bed. He leans over and kisses my cheek as I let the magazine fall flat on my lap.
“Already?” I whine, tugging his hand so that he leans down. I reach up and kiss him on the lips, then flop back into the pillows with an exaggerated sigh.
“Yep. I’ll think about you the whole time I’m away.” He grins. He asks in a softer voice, “You going to be okay?”
“Don’t you dare think about me the whole time. They’ll kick you off the team – you’ve missed too many practices to play like crap when you’re actually there,” I tease.
“They’d never kick me off. I’m the star player.” He sends me a wink and darts towards the door.
“We start on Monday, Jayden!” Hailey calls, pointing at the bucket list in her hands. He gives her a very solemn nod before turning and sprinting out of the room. Hailey giggles when he leaves, taking the seat he had vacated next to my bed.
“You two are so cute!” She sighs and I roll my eyes. The comment doesn’t merit a response.
“Fine, act like you’re above gossiping – but I totally predicted this.” Hailey tosses her hair over her shoulder.
I laugh. “You so did not predict this.”
“Yes I did! When you guys were hanging out heaps!”
“No way – that was during our getting-to-know-each-other period. You have to call it before then for it to count.”
“Nope… nope. I have excellent intuition.”
My smile softens. “You do. You knew I was unwell…” I hesitate. “Hailey? Thanks so much for still being my friend. I wasn’t honest with you, and I didn’t value you like I should have. I was always a bad friend to you. I’m sorry.”
Hailey opens her mouth to interrupt, but I plough through. “No, let me finish. I never appreciated you, but I’m never going to make that mistake again. Thank you for being here for me. Thank you for forgiving me. Thanks for still being my friend.”
“Allie…” For once, she seems to be at a loss of what to say. “Of course I forgave you – you’re my best friend.”
My chin quivers. “You’re my best friend too. I don’t know what I’d do without our girl talk.”
“I mean, without me, you’d have to talk about the effects of the drugs on your period to Jayden!” She gasps.
A snort of amusement cuts through my embarrassment. “When have we ever discussed my period, or yours for that matter?”
“Imagine if you didn’t have me for that though… What if you did have to discuss it?” Hailey opens her eyes as wide as she can and gives me a look of pure mortification.
“Oh shut up,” I say. “I’ll never understand why you don’t do drama at school.”
“I v
alue my popularity too much, Allie… Imagine how much the drama kids would hate me if I stole all the lead roles.”
My laughter finally breaks through her stupid act and she cracks a smile. We only calm down when Josh runs into the room, throwing the door open and rushing to my side in record time. “Hey Allie! Guess what!”
“You won?” I ask.
Oh, hi.” Josh nods at Hailey. “No, well yes… but that’s not what I wanted to tell you. I asked Emily to go out with me, and she said yes!”
“What? Who? When?” I stutter. My brother asked a girl out? My little brother is even interested in girls?