Half-Truths

by Randileigh Kennedy

  I was sure I was losing him. His grip on mine lessened, though I just squeezed his hands tighter and sobbed into the dim light, unsure of what I was supposed to do or say. I listened to him talk about me as a little girl, and then suddenly . . . there were no more words. Just the erratic sound of the heart monitor beside his bed and the erratic screams inside my head as I prepared myself to lose the most important man I’d ever loved. The one who’d promised to love me forever.

  ***

  I was awoken by a nurse entering the room. I glanced at the clock, which read 5:00 a.m. I was hunched over my father’s hospital bed, still clutching his hands. The blankets were wet from my tears. The heart machine next to the bed continued to make noise, and I hoped with everything left inside me that the sound signaled hope . . . time.

  I sat up and pulled back my hair, straining through my puffy, swollen eyes to see the nurse. “Something happened last night,” I tried to explain, unsure of how I was going to articulate what had occurred.

  “I saw the reports. His heart stopped twice for far longer than usual,” she confirmed. “It’s been doing that more and more lately.”

  “What does that mean?” I questioned.

  “As long as the machine beeps again after a long pause, that’s all that matters,” she said warmly. She reached out to take my dad’s vitals and a blood sample. My father stirred. He smiled as soon as he saw me.

  “I’m still here,” he said with a warm expression. My tears began cascading down my face again, and I wasn’t sure what to say.

  “The doctor has been briefed on your reports,” the nurse said matter-of-factly. “He’s coming in early to see you, probably around seven.” She made her way out of the room. I wasn’t sure what to say.

  “Ice cream for breakfast?” he suggested.

  “Dad, how can that be the first thing on your mind right now?” I replied incredulously. “There are so many more important things. “

  “Really?” He shrugged. “I can’t think of many more things I would rather do right now than have ice cream for breakfast with you.” There it was—my father summed up perfectly in one sentence. He didn’t know chaos. It was almost maddening in itself, but I longed for his sense of calm. Anyone alive would be blessed to see the world as he did. Sure enough, he pushed his call button and asked the nurse for two bowls of orange sherbet. I called the house line, and my mom picked up on the second ring. I quickly told her about the night before and that the doctor would be coming in early. She said she and Warren would be down within an hour.

  The morning passed quickly, and with my family present the doctor came and rehashed the reports from the heart monitor. The doctor was still amazed that my father’s heart was working at all, so he didn’t seem as phased by the reports as I’d hoped. He reassured us that plans were moving forward to get him to Stanford, and he should be moved by the end of the week. He reminded us not so subtly that such a scenario only mattered if my dad made it that long.

  We all cried. That was all we could do in the moment. Somehow, a bit later, perhaps minutes or perhaps an hour, we all got it together and pulled out the Monopoly board. It probably seemed like an absurd thing to do, but that’s what we knew how to do—laugh together, cry together, then try to bankrupt each other during a three-hour game. It’s ironic that most people I know think Monopoly is a waste of time, but when your time is threatened in the worst way, it seems like the only way to drag it out and make it last as long as possible.

  More people came to pay their respects to my father. It was the most magnificent gift in a way, to be able to say goodbye to someone. I imagined millions of people all over the world would’ve given everything for such an opportunity—to say whatever needed to be said before losing someone they loved. Most people never got that chance because their loved one was gone before they could do so. The thought of that was heartbreaking to me. I knew I would probably never fully understand just how fortunate I was to have this time with my dad. These days had been emotionally draining, but I wouldn’t have traded them for anything.

  I texted a bit with Sawyer throughout the day when he had breaks during his conference. He was witty and fun, and I relished the smiles his words gave me. The best part, however, was how brutally honest I could be with him despite how vulnerable it made me feel. I could be completely transparent with him, and I loved that. I explained what had happened the night before with my father and how I thought I was losing him right in front of my eyes. I told him that was the worst I’d ever felt in my whole life. Nothing up to this point had broken my heart the way that moment had. Yet here we were, my father still with us. Although I still felt broken and spent, I somehow felt joy to know it wasn’t over yet. The ebb and flow of the whole thing was crushing me. I felt like my chest was about to explode, which was ironic. That’s how I imagined my dad was supposed to be feeling at the moment, yet he was calm about it all. Knowing at the end of the day we all have some ending point, I knew anyone would be lucky to go full of the peace he had.

  Brie stopped by the hospital for a visit. We’d been best friends for so long that my parents were practically her own as well, though she wanted to lie low and give us our time together. She stayed to play a couple of games with us, just like we had done for years in the past, and it was a wonderful few hours.

  “Are you staying again tonight?” she asked before leaving the hospital.

  “Nah, it’s my brother’s turn tonight,” I replied. As much as I was looking forward to a long, peaceful night of sleep at my parents’ place, after last night I was scared to leave the hospital at all. I couldn’t imagine my dad passing without me present. Not after what had happened last night. As painful as it would’ve been to be in that room if it happened, I couldn’t imagine not being there for it.

  “Do you want to hang out? Vodka shots? Maybe go somewhere to get your mind off all this?” she questioned.

  “Honestly I don’t have it in me.” I shrugged. “I’ll probably stay here pretty late, until my brother kicks me out at least. Then I think I’ll just go home and crash. I’m exhausted. This week is really taking a toll on me.”

  “I totally understand,” she commiserated. “Obviously, if you need anything, call me.”

  We hugged goodbye, and she left the hospital. I grabbed some snacks from a vending machine down the hall, wishing instead I was eating Chinese food again tonight. That sounded far better, but I didn’t have the energy to pull that off. I walked back into my father’s room, completely unprepared for the sound I heard.

  My mother was screaming.

  Chapter 11

  There was so much chaos around me, I couldn’t tell what was happening. The cardiac monitors by my dad’s beds were quiet when I walked in, but now there were alarms and buzzers going off like crazy. My mom was screaming into my brother’s chest as he held her, and within seconds there were swarms of doctors and nurses all over the room. It felt like everyone was speaking in a foreign language, and we were immediately ushered out of the small space. Machines were taking the places of our bodies as we were sent outside the door. A couple of nurses intercepted us and guided us into a private room with unapologetic bright lights and blue chairs.

  “Please wait here. We’ll let you know what’s going on as soon as we have a status,” one of them said hurriedly, motioning us to sit down in the blue fabric chairs. Warren and I just stared back at them, unsure of what to say, while my mom immediately sank into a chair, still sobbing. Warm tears slid down my face, and my brother hugged me tight.

  The nurses left, and we sat in that bright room, just the three of us. We didn’t speak. No one knew what to say. We just simply cried together, waiting for news.

  I don’t know how long we sat there, but it felt like an eternity, even though it’s possible it was only twenty or thirty minutes. Finally a doctor and two nurses entered the room. I couldn’t read their expressions to know whether they had good or bad news. I felt like I was going to vomit.

  “We resuscitated him
,” the doctor began, “and his heart is functioning on its own for the time being. I know this is a very hard time for you, and you’ll be able to see him in a bit. But we have quite a few tests and diagnostics to run tonight to check for any changes caused by this episode. You can visit with him briefly before we begin, but you won’t have a lengthy amount of time. We’ll do all we can for him, but he needs to get to Stanford. We have some calls in to them now, so they know the severity of the situation. We hope to be able to transport him sometime later tonight if we can keep things steady until then.”

  “Steady,” my mom whispered through her tears. “You can keep him steady?”

  “We’re doing all we can,” the doctor said reassuringly. “This is a very unique situation. I have never seen anything like this, a man so young with a heart in such bad shape. But we’re doing all we can. When he’s taken by the air flight medic, we have room for only one of you to go with him. You’ll need to make plans for that.”

  My mom asked a few more questions, but my head was spinning. Obviously she would be the one to go with him. That made the most sense. I wasn’t sure if my brother and I should travel by car or wait here until they flew him back. It was amazing how bad news could get worse and then move on to something even more dismal. Last night had felt like rock bottom to me, yet somehow I managed to feel worse in this moment. The only solace I felt was the fact that they were finally ready to do something for my dad.

  At least an hour passed while we waited to see him. My mom made a lot of phone calls to update close family on the situation. I called Brie and told her as well, and then shot a text to Sawyer just so he would know what was going on in case I didn’t answer my phone for the rest of the night. I wasn’t sure how long I would be here, so I certainly didn’t want him thinking we might be able to get together later. We paced the room, drank really bad coffee, and prayed. We had nothing left to do except those three things.

  We finally left the confinement of the private room and were led back into my dad’s hospital room. There were more machines surrounding him, and he had on an oxygen mask. More tubes were sticking out of his arms. I wondered at first if he was lucid enough to notice we’d entered the room, but his mouth curled up into a smile as soon as my mom neared his bed, confirming he knew we were there.

  My mom leaned down and squeezed his hands, her tears cascading all over him. He couldn’t speak through the mask, so instead we gathered around him and each said what we needed to say.

  It was the first time I’d ever seen my brother truly fall apart. He was a big, strong guy, but he looked just like a scared little boy in that moment, clutching on to my dad’s hands. He thanked him—for the wonderful father he was, for all the wisdom he’d given us, and for the amazing life we’d had together. The words seemed too simple for the magnitude of what they really meant, but we all understood them.

  As for myself, I could barely speak. I could say ‘I love you’—words I’d said to him a million times over in my life. I didn’t mean them any more now than I had any other time I’d said them, but it meant everything that those would be my last words to him tonight. It took everything I had to walk out of that hospital room, but my brother and I knew it was important to give our mom a few minutes alone with him before they took him for testing. We’d known that man our whole lives, but he’d loved her first, and I could never imagine the heartbreak she felt beyond what I was feeling myself.

  We were unsure of what to do or where to go. The waiting area by the elevators was florescent and uninviting, but it felt necessary to head there. Our grandmas and a few aunts and uncles were waiting their turn to see my father for possibly the last time, if the doctors would even allow them in at this point. Word had apparently spread fast when my mom had made those phone calls, and even if they couldn’t go into the room, I imagine they were there for us as well. Despite our reluctance we hugged and squeezed everyone there waiting on the news. The hospital staff informed them no one else would be able to visit my dad for the night, and as somber as that news was, everyone understood and seemed calm, likely because they’d all already had an opportunity to say what they needed to say these past few days.

  “I’m going to get the grandmas home,” my brother said, hugging me again. The rest of the family started filtering out, saying their goodbyes and making us promise we would call with any news once my dad was off to Stanford. The plan was that my brother and I would stay behind once my parents flew out so we could communicate everything that was happening with the rest of the family. It was of no use for us to be standing around another hospital when my dad would be completely out of it the whole time. My mom preferred us staying back, helping the grandmas get to their own doctors’ appointments and such—all the things she usually took care of.

  “I’m going to hang around here, I guess,” I said quietly.

  “All night?” Warren questioned.

  “I don’t know, probably.” I shrugged. I wasn’t sure what else to do. I knew standing around wouldn’t change the outcome, but I couldn’t walk away from here. Not until I was told I had to leave.

  “Call me later if you need a ride home,” Warren said, kissing my forehead. “Otherwise maybe I’ll come back too. I don’t know.”

  Everyone left the waiting room, and I slumped down into a floral love seat, staring at the black screen of my phone. I wasn’t sure who to call. I just wanted to shut my eyes and wake up from all of this. Instead I anxiously waited, though I wasn’t sure what I expected to happen. Maybe I wanted the hospital to tell me there was one more spot on the medic flight. Or maybe I wanted them to tell me I could stay in the room I’d been living in for a week. Maybe I needed them to physically escort me out of the building, but I wasn’t comfortable just sitting. I now understood pacing. I had to get up and walk—that’s all my body could figure out to do.

  I stepped through a doorway that led to a small balcony. It was already dark outside, though I wasn’t sure what time it was. Last I checked, I think it was after nine. There were some potted plants and a picnic table, but that was it. The lights from the parking garage across the street were dim, and I could see some of the downtown lights in the distance. They didn’t appear to be all that far away, but somehow it felt like I was so far away from anything. The scenery in front of me looked more like a picture or a movie than real life. There were lights and parked cars and nighttime sounds, but I didn’t see any people. I felt like I was trapped in a glass box. I tilted up my head to take in some fresh air, but I just felt further riled up. I was angry at the entire world. I felt alone despite the hundreds of people I’d been around the last few days, who were all feeling similar emotions to my own, but somehow it seemed like it was just me in the universe, feeling this way at this very moment. I screamed into the night sky. Only silence followed, and more tears fell down my face as I sat there in the darkness, sobbing into my hands.

  I decided to pull myself together and get something to drink. The nurses’ station had some coffee—not that it tasted good by any means, but I thought the caffeine jolt may settle my nerves. Sitting alone wasn’t helping my mood, but I still couldn’t bring myself to leave the hospital. Not until my father had been taken away.

  I walked down the narrow hallway and turned the corner to the nurses’ station. I filled my cup, wondering how long the coffee had been sitting there, and then turned to head back toward the waiting room. Before I made it any farther, I locked eyes with someone I hadn’t expected to see.

  “Wes, what are you doing here?” I asked, completely caught off guard.

  “Marissa called me. She told me what happened tonight,” he replied softly. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. We . . .”

  Marissa walked around the corner at that moment, wearing bright pink scrubs, and I realized she was with him.

  “You brought her with you?” I cut him off, with more anger in my voice than I meant to show. I took a few steps backward, hoping to get out of this conversation before I completely broke. I
heard the elevator chime down the hall, and I so badly wanted to get on one and disappear.

  “Whit, I’m so sorry to hear what you’re going through,” Marissa began, reaching an arm toward me as if she planned to console me.

  “What are you doing here?” I hissed, unsure as to why my night had to get worse at this point.

  “She works here, Whit. I told you, she’s a nurse here,” Wes explained, as if that fact made this an okay situation. “She heard about it from one of her friends in this cardiac wing. She wanted to pay her respects as well. You used to be close. She knows your family. Come on, Whit.”

  “Right, well, why aren’t we close anymore, Marissa? Shall we talk about that right here in the middle of the hospital? Do you really want to have this conversation?”

  “Whitley, so much time has passed. Just let it go,” Marissa said dismissively. “I’m just here to say I’m sorry about your dad.”

  “You’re sorry about my dad, but you’re not sorry for agreeing to marry the one guy I ever loved when you were one of my best friends? The same guy I called you about and agonized over because I was so heartbroken over the whole thing? Then you sporadically stopped answering my calls, only for me to find out a short time later you two were hooking up,” I said snidely. “That doesn’t deserve an apology?”

  “Whitley, let it go. That’s not what this is about,” Wes said defensively, trying to quell my anger. “You’re acting childish right now. She’s just here to show her support.”

  “Childish?” I huffed, putting a hand on my hip. “Yeah, well, you know what? I would give anything to be a child right now. I would like to go home and build a blanket fort in my living room. I want to crawl around inside and eat cereal in mismatched socks, without a care in the whole fucking world, but life isn’t offering me that luxury at the moment. As luck would have it, I’m here pacing the hospital like a petrified little girl who still needs her dad. But instead he’s slipping away right in front of me, and nobody is fixing this.” Tears flowed out of my eyes, and I couldn’t hold them back.