They had come a long way. They wouldn’t be back here again. She’d done hard things before this, she could do one more. She took a deep breath and got to her feet, mustering the last of her strength. ‘Okay. Let’s go.’
They entered the hospital through the accident and emergency door, Krystal visibly shivering as two ambulance officers burst in, pushing a gurney carrying an unconscious man with a banged-up face. The two women moved out of the way and then made their way unnoticed to the elevator. Krystal hit the button. ‘ICU is on level six.’
‘We can’t actually go inside the ICU,’ Gabby whispered, her belly dropping a notch as they zoomed up the floors. She’d spent far too much time in hospitals for her liking and was resistant to visiting any ICU, let alone the exact place where Evan had died.
‘People are up all hours in ICU,’ Krystal said.
‘That’s the point. What do you think we’re going to do? Someone will stop us. You have to sign in to those places. We won’t get far.’
‘We just need to get close enough to trigger memories,’ Krystal said, tapping her foot and chewing a nail.
The elevator glided to a stop and the doors opened with a ding. Krystal stepped out first, Gabby following, looking about nervously. Krystal seemed to be getting her bearings from her previous visit. But before they could take a step, a nurse with grey-speckled brown hair in a practical haircut approached them.
‘Can I help you?’
‘Ah, hi,’ Krystal said.
‘Are you looking for someone?’ the nurse asked, pinning first Krystal and then Gabby with her stare.
‘I –’ Finally, Krystal seemed lost for ideas or a plan.
From down the hallway, Gabby could hear sobbing, the plastic rings of a hospital curtain being swept aside, a machine beeping. There was always a machine beeping somewhere in ICU.
‘Do you have a relative in ICU right now?’ the nurse asked, her patience gone.
‘No,’ Krystal admitted.
‘Then you will have to leave, immediately,’ the nurse said, pressing the call button on the elevator. The doors sprang open straightaway. It hadn’t even left the floor yet.
‘Yes, sorry,’ Krystal mumbled. She and Gabby bundled into the elevator and the nurse stood watching them until the doors closed.
24
They rode in silence in the taxi back to the hotel. When they got into the lift, Krystal thought Gabby was looking worse for wear, her eyes bloodshot, her skin pale, deep lines extending down from the corners of her mouth. Krystal didn’t feel so good herself. In the hallway outside the elevator, they said goodnight, neither making any plans for the morning.
‘Thank you,’ Krystal said, to Gabby’s retreating back.
Gabby turned around and gave a sympathetic shrug. ‘I wish … I don’t know. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?’
Krystal was tempted to ask her to go on, to try to get one final detail from her, but she could see Gabby was spent. ‘See you then.’ She raised a hand to wave goodbye then returned to her own room. She went to the bathroom, washed her face and cleaned her teeth, then collapsed into the queen-sized bed with starched sheets and switched off the lamp. It was midnight and she was bone weary. City lights sneaked in around the blackout curtains and small red and green bulbs glowed at her from various electrical appliances around the room. Her eyelids were heavy and dropping of their own accord, and she relished the idea of this whole day coming to an end and disappearing into the quiet of sleep.
But that wasn’t what happened. Instead, her mind raced and raced, and propelled her back through time to the most awful night of her life.
Krystal was standing in a large ward with low lighting, just enough to see by. It was busy with people. Nurses. Clusters of distraught relatives, holding on to each other like life rafts. Blue curtains in semicircles around motionless bodies hooked up to machines. Tubes. Wires. Blips. Beeps. The air too cold.
In front of her was Evan, a white sheet and blue blanket over his body. His neck was in a brace. His eyes were closed. A thick, ropey tube was taped to his mouth. His lips were swollen and slack. A ventilator ticked and wheezed.
A doctor in a pressed shirt and name badge stood tall and grim, a folder under his arm, speaking to Krystal but also to Cordelia-Aurora, who was standing on the other side of the bed. He was the second doctor to confirm the awful news. Krystal pulled her green knitted cardigan around her and sniffed, the soggy tissues in her hand useless now.
Cordelia-Aurora was thin and stiff, her face paler than ever above her black crepe top and pants. She was nodding at him, saying words like, ‘Of course,’ and ‘I understand.’
Krystal didn’t understand a single thing. How was her husband here, unconscious in this bed, in Sydney, when just yesterday he’d been in their apartment, active, warm, humming with energy?
The doctor finished what he was saying, dipped his head slightly, and left, pulling the curtain closed behind him to give Krystal and Cordelia-Aurora some privacy.
Cordelia-Aurora stepped towards Evan and put her hand briefly on his, then pulled it back again and crossed her arms.
Krystal stood motionless, staring at her husband, deep shock keeping her upright and breathing, slowing her mind. She could sense the pain – a great ocean of it somewhere below – but knew that if it were to force its way out of her body it would break her into a million pieces. She had children here, in another room with Evan’s parents – fractious, weepy and exhausted children who needed her. She couldn’t fall apart. Not yet.
Cordelia-Aurora turned to face Krystal and spoke. ‘It’s time to let him go,’ she said, quietly but firmly.
Krystal dragged her eyes from her husband’s body and regarded her sister-in-law. It was as though she’d never seen this person before. She shook her head. ‘No.’
‘The doctor has explained this. He’s not here any more. He’s brain dead.’
‘Don’t say that,’ Krystal said, grinding out the words. ‘What a horrible thing to say.’
‘Two doctors have done the tests. Both have come to the same conclusion. To let him continue on life support is cruel for everyone, including Evan. He can’t stay like this forever.’
Krystal wove her fingers into her hair and scratched at her skull.
‘He’s dead.’
‘I need more time,’ Krystal said.
‘Time? What do you need time for? He is brain dead.’
‘Shut up, please.’
‘He’s never coming back, Krystal. The least you could do, the thing you must do, is give him his dignity.’
‘I need you to stop talking. I need more time to think.’
‘There are people out there who need organs, who are going to die without organs. It’s selfish to keep them waiting. This is something he wanted to do.’
‘He never told me that,’ Krystal said firmly, her jaw jutting.
‘Well, he told me,’ Cordelia-Aurora countered. ‘You’re not the only one who is suffering here. Mum and Dad and Rupert will be back in a few minutes and they are going to want to move this forward.’
‘Move this forward? What does that even mean?’
‘You asked the doctor if they could leave Evan on life support to see what would happen. Do you even remember what he said?’
Krystal’s mouth opened as if to respond, but it was as though the words that were supposed to make their way out simply didn’t exist. She wasn’t sure she recalled the conversation, exactly. She hadn’t slept for two days.
‘He said there was a chance, as time went on, that his extremities would start to decompose. Fucking hell, Krystal.’ Cordelia-Aurora’s shoulders slumped then and she pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath.
‘Hell is exactly what this is,’ Krystal said. She picked up Evan’s hand and held it in her own, swallowing hard, squeezing her eyes shut. His hand was warm, his wedding ring, warm. ‘My husband is …’ Krystal couldn’t finish the sentence.
‘Yes, your husband. You have all the legal rights
here, a system that I don’t mind telling you is highly flawed. You two might have been fighting day and night and about to be divorced but as his wife you would still have legal rights above and beyond what his birth family – his first family, his real family – have. If I could change that right now, I would. I could take you to court, but that would obviously take time, which we don’t have. Evan needs your help. If you are half the wife you’ve always claimed to be then you will get over yourself and your issues with our family, and do the right thing by your children and the man you proclaim to love.’
‘Proclaim?’ Krystal repeated, her voice shrill.
Cordelia-Aurora gave her a warning look, signalling that there were others just outside the curtains. ‘This is a tragic, awful accident, but don’t let his death be the defining moment of his life. He would want to save other people’s lives. Let him do that and let his gift of life be the act he is remembered for.’
Krystal pulled up a chair and collapsed heavily into it, Evan’s hand still in hers. She bent slowly and kissed his knuckles, and rested her cheek on the back of his hand.
Cordelia-Aurora looked away.
Finally, Krystal spoke, her voice heavy and damp with tears. ‘You say he’s brain dead as though that’s the key to deciding his worth. You might have loved him for his brain, but I loved him for his heart.’ She let the words hang in the air for a moment before continuing. ‘And his heart will still be beating when they cut it from his body.’
Cordelia-Aurora’s face twitched, but she composed herself quickly, resuming her expression of disdain. ‘He’s dead. The only reason his heart is still beating is because it has a pacemaker and because of that machine, right there.’ She pointed at the ventilator. ‘Turn it off and his heart will stop.’
‘Maybe not for days,’ Krystal said. ‘Yes, I was listening. He could live for a week or even longer.’
‘And what would be the point of that? The end result will still be the same, except he doesn’t get to save any lives that way. What kind of legacy is that?’
‘Legacy? Who cares about his legacy? I care about him, end of story.’
Cordelia-Aurora screwed her fists into white-knuckled balls. ‘He doesn’t need his organs any more.’
‘Are you saying he’s just a body now? We don’t know what he can feel. We don’t know if he’ll feel them saw open his chest and cut out his beating heart. We don’t know if he can hear us right now! What if he’s inside there, screaming to be heard, begging us to give him more time, begging us to give him a chance.’
‘The doctor said …’
‘I don’t give a flying fuck what the doctor said. I am the only person standing up for wherever Evan is now and wherever he is going from here. Do you get what an awesome responsibility that is? You’re standing here complaining that you have no say, but you should try it from his end – he truly has no voice, and I have total responsibility for his life from this moment forwards. And if he wants to stay here, maybe hovering over us right now in this room, for an hour or a whole week then it is my responsibility, all alone, to make sure he gets his final wish.’
‘He’s not here. He’s gone. He is brain dead. His broken neck severed the blood flow to his brain and it died. There is no return. His soul, or whatever you believe in, is gone. He’s just a body now, so what does it matter?’
‘What does it matter?’ Krystal was on her feet again. ‘We have all sorts of laws about how a body should be treated after someone has died precisely because it does matter. We are appalled by crimes that include hacking up bodies, or burning bodies, or dumping bodies. Yet here you are, suggesting it suddenly doesn’t matter!’
‘That’s completely different! This is a hospital. Doctors, highly trained surgeons, are going to operate on him with the utmost respect and gratitude for the lives he is saving. Krystal, be reasonable! People are literally dying for you to make up your mind and get on with the job.’
Krystal shook her head repeatedly. ‘No. I don’t want to donate his organs. I don’t want someone to cut him up while he is still alive.’
‘He’s not!’
‘His heart is still beating,’ she hissed, lowering her voice once more.
Cordelia-Aurora began to pace. ‘Look, let me get the doctor and the organ donation coordinator back and you can go through all these questions with them again to make sure you understand.’
‘It’s not just all that,’ Krystal said, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘I can see that you don’t get this, but I don’t want to know that there are bits of Evan out there in the world, roaming around. Please … I just want everyone to leave me alone with him, to let me hold his hand and let him take his last breath in his own time, as he crosses over or whatever he needs to do. It’s a journey only he can take. I want to bury him as him, not as a scarecrow filled with stuffing. Don’t you get that? Even a little bit?’
‘What I see,’ Cordelia-Aurora began, slowly, ‘is that you are thinking of yourself right now and no one else. You aren’t thinking of what the rest of his family wants – what everyone in the real Arthur family wants – you aren’t thinking about what’s best for your children, to have this brought to an end and not put them through days or weeks of terrible suffering, having to be hidden away, taken care of by Mum and Dad because you’re completely incapable of looking after them, when what Mum and Dad really want is to be by their son’s side while he is stuck in this terrible limbo, a limbo imposed upon him by you, selfishly clinging onto your legal powers as a way to stick it to us one last time.’
‘That’s not –’
‘Well, I can see beyond that. I am thinking of your children.’
‘What?’
‘As well as sparing them all this suffering, you can give them a legacy to be proud of, one in which their father didn’t die randomly on a street in Sydney but one in which he was a hero and saved many lives, in which he lived and died as a leader by example. It’s a memory they’ll need to rely on when they find out what their mother is really like.’
‘What? What are you …?’ Krystal stopped. She felt the blood drain from her face. ‘Are you threatening me? Are you ordering me to sign the donation papers or you’ll tell them about the arrest?’
‘Of course I’m not threatening you! I’m an officer of the court. But it’s inevitable, isn’t it? The truth always has a way of floating to the surface, and just in case your children aren’t as forgiving as you hope – teenagers are notoriously hard on their parents – I’m sure you would want them to be able to look up to at least one of their parents.’
‘Have you lost your mind?’ Krystal whispered, leaning across the bed. ‘I’m talking about saying goodbye to my husband forever.’
Krystal pulled herself out of the hotel bed and ran to the bathroom, sobbing as she splashed water over her face, trying to wash the memories away.
In her room down the hall, Gabby lay curled in a ball after the long and awful vision, suffocated by her knowledge of the ghastly truth, that Krystal had never wanted to donate Evan’s organs. Gabby was never meant to have his heart.
25
After a restless, teary night, Gabby pulled herself out of bed before dawn, needing to go home. She couldn’t face seeing Krystal this morning. Knowing that she had never wanted to donate Evan’s heart, had resented doing it, had even considered it a form of orchestrated killing of her husband, was a crushing blow.
Every organ recipient she knew struggled with the guilt of benefiting from someone else’s loss, but the one thing that made it bearable was believing that it had somehow brought the donor family comfort to know that the person’s death hadn’t been for nothing – that something good had come of it, and that they had honoured their loved one’s wishes.
Well, so much for that.
Of all the things the donor recipient handbook had warned her to expect – regular hospital visits for the rest of her life, possible rejections, thrice-daily medications, a long recovery, side effects of the pharmaceuticals, and a li
mited lifespan – this was not one.
She was tainted now, tainted by Krystal’s muddied intentions and whatever nasty threats Cordelia-Aurora had held over her head. It wasn’t Gabby’s fault, yet here she was, caught in a tangled web.
She swallowed her handful of seven morning medications and washed them down with a few mouthfuls of water. She lifted her chin and stared sternly into her green eyes in the hotel’s bathroom mirror.
Enough. No more guilt.
Today, everything would be different. This was the day her apologetic, guilt-ridden, bleeding heart hardened. Today, her bam boo backbone straightened into a steel rod. Today, her cracked-open chest sealed for good.
She certainly couldn’t control everything in life; in fact, she knew from experience that there was very little she could control at all. Bad things happened to good people and there was rarely any rhyme or reason to it. She was a good person. The bad thing had happened to her and it had happened to Krystal too. But somehow, despite all the badness going on for Krystal and Krystal’s children and Cordelia-Aurora and Evan’s parents and brother, something good had then happened to Gabby.
She texted Krystal to tell her she needed some time to think and was leaving Sydney early. Then she looked into her own eyes once more. ‘You’ve got this, Gabs. You’ve got this.’
Today was a new day. Today was a bloody miracle. And she wasn’t going to waste one more second feeling bad about the way things had ended for Krystal and Evan. That was their life. This was hers.
She waited till she’d crossed the tarmac at Tullamarine and was inside the airport before she turned on her phone. She messaged Krystal again, telling her she’d seen the woman with Evan in the street the night he was hit. She needed to wash her hands of her involvement and get on with her own life.
The Gift of Life Page 23