The End of Forever

by Lurlene McDaniel

  David was very talented, and he had the gift of laughter. Too bad she’d never see him again. She wondered what he really looked like, then decided she didn’t really want to know. This day had merely been an interlude in time, a brief time-out from all the pain and turmoil in her real life. She tucked the heart-shaped balloon under her arm and hurried down the hall to gather her things and make a quick escape.

  On Easter Sunday, Erin went to a small chapel service in the hospital. It felt strange not to dress in new spring clothes and go to church with her family, where the choir would sing Handels Messiah and baskets of white lilies would line the altar and aisles. This year the Bennett’s would be sitting in Neuro-ICU instead of in the sanctuary.

  They ate Easter dinner in the cafeteria, but there was no sense of joy in the meal. “They’ll do another CAT scan tomorrow,” Mrs. Bennett said, pushing aside her half-eaten food.

  “You should eat more, Marian,” Mr. Bennett told her.

  “How can I eat? How can I even think about eating when my baby’s upstairs attached to wires and machines?”

  Erin’s eyes darted quickly between her parents. Don’t let there be a scene, she pleaded silently.

  “Well, how’s starving yourself going to help Amy?” he argued. “I’ll bet you’ve lost ten pounds.”

  “So what? I’d lose a hundred if I thought it would help her.” She reached in her purse for a cigarette.

  “Well it won’t.”

  Erin scraped back her chair and flung her napkin over her plate. “Stop it! Just stop it! It’s Easter Sunday. And … and …” Her voice broke. She wanted to scream at them, wanted them to understand how bad she felt and how much she wished she could turn time backward. “I’m going up to the waiting room,” Erin cried, and fled to the stairwell. She bolted up the stairs, two at a time, and by the fifth-floor landing she could scarcely breathe. Somehow she made it to the seventh-floor landing, where she stood gasping for air, sweat trickling down her face and back.

  Her legs felt rubbery, but she pushed through the stairwell door and let it slam shut. She had almost regained her composure by the time she reached the waiting room, and the moment she entered, she sensed an air of expectancy.

  Beth rushed over to her, her eyes shining with exuberance. “I’m so glad you came! I was afraid I’d miss you.”

  “What’s happened? Is it your mom? Is she going home?”

  “Better,” Beth said, her voice breathy. “They found her a donor kidney, and we’re on our way to Gainesville for the transplant operation.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You’re leaving?”

  “As soon as possible. The donor’s on a ventilator. He was in a motorcycle accident and was declared brain dead real early this morning. His family decided to donate his organs, and my mom was matched by the computer.”

  “But why do you have to go to Gainesville for the surgery?”

  “There’s a transplant team waiting and ready to go at the University of Florida’s School of Medicine. The man’s other organs will be flown to other hospitals for transplantation, but Mom’s well enough to travel, so we’re flying there.”

  An absurd picture from a Frankenstein movie flashed into Erin’s mind—the mad scientist robbing graves to give his creature life. Beth’s news seemed so farfetched, but the look of joy on her face told Erin that it was happening for real. “I’m glad for you—for your whole family. What did they tell you about the donor?”

  “Oh, they never tell you much. All we know is that he was twenty-three and healthy. And that his kidney is compatible.” Erin nodded. It was true that he’d have no use for his organs now. Perhaps it was best that they could go to help someone else live. And without a new kidney, Beth’s mom was pretty much doomed. Erin reached out and squeezed Beth’s hands. “We didn’t know each other very long, but I feel very close to you.”

  Beth gave an understanding smile. “It’s the waiting-room syndrome I told you about. Life and death get people together real quick.”

  “It turns complete strangers into buddies, right?”

  “Erin, I don’t even know that boy’s family in Gainesville, but I love them. I love them because they’re saving my mom’s life.”

  A film of tears formed in Erin’s eyes. “How long before you come home?”

  “About a month if everything goes perfect.” Beth had once told Erin that there were no guarantees that the kidney would function properly once it was transplanted, but that the risk was worth taking. She wondered if she’d still be sitting in the hospital waiting room in a month. “You have my home number, don’t you?”

  “I’ll keep in touch,” Beth promised. Someone called to her. “I gotta go.” She ran a few steps, then stopped and turned. “I hope Amy gets well, Erin. I hope she wakes up and goes home real soon.”

  Erin watched her leave and felt a hole opening up inside her. She would miss Beth. She glanced around the waiting area and for the first time realized that she was an “old-timer” in the room. The others had come and gone as their relatives had recovered. She sniffed and wondered how much longer she and her parents could live in this limbo. Then Erin remembered that it was Easter Sunday, and that made it especially fitting for Beth’s mom to receive a second chance at life. After all, wasn’t resurrection supposed to follow death?

  Monday’s CAT scan on Amy showed no improvement, and her Glasgow tests had lowered to a one-one-two status. Her eyes weren’t opened, she didn’t respond to verbal commands, and her motor response to pain had diminished.

  On Wednesday Erin’s parents decided that they should all try to resume a more normal schedule. “The hospital will contact us if there’s any change,” Mrs. Bennett said when Erin argued that she wanted to stay during the day instead of returning to school.

  “It makes no sense for us to just hang around here day after day this way,” Mrs. Bennett insisted. “It’s killing me.”

  Mr. Bennett agreed. “Work is good for us, Erin. It’ll keep our minds occupied. And if they call us, we’ll be at Briarwood together so we can come here together.”

  Erin returned to school on Thursday, sullen and angry with her parents. Her classmates and teachers greeted and hugged her, and by noon even she had to admit that she was better off at school than sitting around the waiting room.

  “We missed you over break,” Shara told her at lunch. “I went to the beach with Kori and Donna, and we met some guys from Northwestern.” She bobbed her eyebrows lecherously. “We were naughty but nice. I dated two of them at the same time.”

  Erin listened to Shara’s tales with a twinge of envy. She felt as if she were caught in a time warp and wondered if her life would ever be back to normal. “I don’t think that’s what the term ‘double dating’ means, Shara.”

  Her friend laughed and said, “Spring Fling’s Saturday night. I invited Kenny after all. I guess you won’t be going, huh?”

  Erin had forgotten all about the dance until that moment. She recalled how much Amy had wanted to go with Travis, and how she’d felt sorry for herself because she’d had no one special in her life to even think about asking. “I don’t think I’d have much fun.”

  “Lots of girls will be there without dates,” Shara ventured. “You could meet the gang and have a good time.”

  Erin gave a wry smile. “Not this year,” she said. “I’d like to see your dress though.”

  “I’ll wear it up to the hospital and show it to you. It’s different,” she added mysteriously.

  After lunch Erin went to the gym for dance class. It had been so long since she’d stretched and danced that she knew she’d be sore by the next day. Yet she was looking forward to the familiar muscle aches too. She put on her leotards and tights and was stretching when Ms. Thornton came in.

  “Erin!” her instructor cried and embraced her. “I’m so glad you’re back in school.”

  Erin quickly brought her up-to-date on Amy. Ms. Thornton shook her head. “I’m sorry she’s not better. I went to Washington
over the break to see my family, but I thought of you every day. I saw Allen, the director at Wolftrap, and mentioned your name. I told him how good I thought you were.”

  For a moment Erin’s heart leapt; then it plummeted to her feet. “I haven’t danced since the recital, Ms. Thornton. And I can’t dance now. Not the way I’d need to in order to be in shape for an audition with Wolftrap.”

  Ms. Thornton touched Erin’s arm. “Erin, you’re a born dancer. You deserve the best training so that you can share your gift with the world.”

  Erin thought of Amy hooked to machines. She deserved to share her gift with the world too. “It’s too much to think about now, Ms. Thornton. How can I even ask my parents about me going to Washington all summer?”

  Ms. Thornton nodded. “I understand, but please don’t give up the idea entirely. There’s always next summer,” she added.

  “Sure,” Erin agreed. “There’s always next summer.”

  Ms. Thornton started to leave. “Oh, by the way, I have a cassette for you in my office of Amy’s readings from the recital. I thought you’d like to have a copy.”

  For a moment Erin was overcome by her teacher’s kindness. She cleared her throat, struggling to hold onto her emotions. “I’d like that very much. Thank you. I’ll pick it up when I’m done here.”

  Later, when she did get the tape, Erin slipped into a bathroom stall because it was the only place she could be alone. She wept silently, holding the tape in her palm, remembering the terrible night when her world turned upside down.

  Erin didn’t know how long she stood there, shut in the stall, but she started when she heard voices. Two girls had entered the rest room.

  “Don’t be a drag, Cindy. Let’s double-date. Spring Fling’s more fun when you go with a group,” one girl said.

  “Fat chance,” the other female voice countered. “It’s taken me six months to get a date with Travis Sinclair, and I’m not about to share the evening with all of you.”

  At the mention of Travis’s name, Erin pressed herself against the metal wall. What was the girl talking about? Maybe she’d misunderstood.

  “How’d you ever talk him into going anyway? What with Amy still in the hospital and all.”

  “I just took a chance and asked him. I never really thought he’d come, but it was worth a try. I almost fell over when he said yes.”

  By now Erin could scarcely breathe. She felt hot and cold all over. Travis was going out with Cindy Pitzer. It was as obvious as if she’d seen Cindy on the other side of the door.

  “Don’t you feel bad about Amy?”

  “Of course. But I don’t know her that well, and I was dating Travis before she came on the scene anyway.” There was a pause in the conversation; then Erin heard Cindy snap, “Don’t look at me that way. It’s just one crummy dance.”

  “But if it works out …” the second voice admonished.

  “If it works out,” Cindy interrupted, “then we’ll double-date the next time. Now hurry up, or we’ll be late for last period.”

  Erin stood in the bathroom stall long after Cindy and her friend had gone. She couldn’t believe what she’d overheard. Travis was going out with another girl while Amy lay in a coma! She was so angry, her whole body shook. Well you’re not going to get away with it, Travis! she vowed under her breath.

  She let herself out, gathered her things, and left school, cutting her final class. All the way home she plotted revenge. She didn’t know what she was going to do, but she would do something to get even with him. Travis would pay for treating her sister this way.

  Erin skipped school on Friday and spent the day walking around the mall, moody and brooding. Travis’s betrayal goaded her, and it wasn’t just Amy he’d betrayed. She felt as if he’d betrayed her too. Hadn’t he told her how much Amy meant to him? Hadn’t he ignored Erin because he “cared” so much for Amy?

  That evening at the hospital, she shared her day with Amy in a one-sided conversation. She never forgot what the nurse had said about comatose patients being able to hear, and she babbled on about the latest fashions and the newest makeup colors, feeling guilty about withholding the information about Travis and Cindy.

  When the nurse came in to take Amy’s vital signs, she told Erin, “Your parents are in the private consultation room, and they want you to meet them there.”

  Erin knew the room Laurie meant. It was a cubbyhole next to the waiting room, where doctors took the families of patients whenever they wanted to discuss something private, such as the results of surgery. Erin went to the room and let herself in. Her parents were talking in hushed tones to Dr. DuPree. Her mother looked as if shed been crying. “What’s wrong?” Erin asked, instantly alert.

  “We’ve been waiting for you, Erin,” her father said. His expression was grim, guarded. “Dr. DuPree was just going over the latest Glasgow test results.”

  “So what’s the score?” Erin licked her lips. Her mouth had gone dry.

  Dr. DuPree cleared his throat. “We’ve lowered Amy to a one-one-one. ‘

  Erin’s stomach twisted into a knot. Suddenly she felt trapped and cornered. “Why are we in this room?”

  “Your mother and I want you to talk to a man we met with earlier this evening,” Mr. Bennett said. As if on cue the door opened and a man entered. He was tall and had black hair and a mustache. Erin’s brows knitted together. She recognized him, but from where?

  “Hi, Erin.” The man thrust out his hand. “I’m Roger Fogerty.”

  Memory clicked into place. Neuro-ICU. A model of a plastic brain. Words from a stranger with kind brown eyes. She’d asked, “Are you a doctor?” He’d answered, “No. But I work with the staff here.” Erin took his hand, hesitant, wary. “Why are you here?”

  His grip was firm and warm. His eyes caught and held hers hypnotically. “I’m with the Florida Organ and Tissue Donor Program.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Erin blinked, bewildered. Why would someone from the organ-donor program be here? Was one of Amy’s major organs failing? Did they want to try some experimental transplantation technique on her? “I–I don’t understand.…”

  “This is always a difficult conversation for me to have with families, Erin. Would you like to sit down?”

  “No.”

  Mr. Fogerty laid a briefcase on the table. Dr. DuPree stood beside him, and her parents sat rigidly in chairs on the other side of the table. Their shoulders were touching, but Erin thought they somehow looked miles apart. Mr. Fogerty snapped open the case and pulled out some papers. “I spoke with your parents earlier, Erin. Now I’d like to tell you about the donor program. About how the donation of organs can extend the lives of others. And about how some sort of meaning can be derived from your sisters tragedy.”

  “Donors are dead people.”

  “That’s true, and—”

  “Amy’s not dead,” Erin interrupted. “I’ve just come from her room.”

  Mr. Fogerty glanced quickly at the Bennetts. Dr. DuPree came forward and leaned across the table. His voice was gentle as he told her, “Her pupils are fixed and dilated. The results of her EEG show that she’s had no brain activity for about six hours.”

  Erin’s gaze flew to her mother, who lifted a trembling chin. Erin took a step backward. Dr. DuPree continued. “We’ve run many tests, Erin. Blood-flow studies to the cerebral area, CAT scans—the newest, the best tests—and they all indicate that Amy is brain dead.”

  “Dr. DuPree has determined that there’s absolutely no hope of recovery,” Mr. Fogerty said very gently. “Now it’s time to consider your alternatives. And donating Amy’s organs is one of them.”

  Stupefied, Erin sputtered, “So that’s what this is all about? You want to use her organs, and you need our permission?”

  “The entire family has to be in agreement,” Mr. Fogerty said.

  Mrs. Bennett said, “You seemed pleased for your friend Beth’s mother when she got news about her kidney transplant.” Her face looked haggard and haunted, and E
rin recalled how pretty her mother liked to keep herself.

  “Th-that was different. The guy was already dead.”

  “Erin,” her father spoke so quietly that she had to strain toward him. “So is Amy.”

  The room was silent. Erin heard the sound of her own blood rushing to her ears. “I don’t believe you.” But the look on her parents’ faces took away her assurance. “I was just in her room, and I know she’s alive.”

  “If we unhooked her from the ventilator, she’d stop breathing in minutes, and all her organs would begin to fail,” the doctor said.

  So that was the way it was, Erin thought. Amy was supposed to be dead, but without the machines her organs would be no good to them. She jutted her chin. “Well, I don’t agree about donating her organs.”

  “Why?” her mother asked. “Shouldn’t something positive come out of this hell? To help balance what’s happened to Amy? Someone can’t run out to buy sodas and just die! It makes no sense.”

  Erin felt as if she’d been slapped. She had let Amy go buy the sodas. Erin laced her fingers and cupped her hands demurely in front of her. “As long as the machines are doing their job, then maybe she can get better. But if you turn off the machines, then she’ll die for sure.”

  “Haven’t you heard a thing we’ve said, Erin?” Mrs. Bennett’s voice sounded as tight as a wire. “Amy is dead.”

  Mr. Bennett silenced his wife and went to stand in front of Erin. “Baby, listen to me. Don’t you think this is the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make? Kids are supposed to outlive their parents, not the other way around.”

  His face was contorted with pain, and Erin felt panic inside herself. She wanted to smooth it away for him. She wanted him to smooth it away for her. “It’s not fair,” she whispered through trembling lips.