Page 119 of Until Then

It remains eerily quiet in the ER lobby, where we sit side by side, for ten minutes or so, before an older couple comes hurrying inside.

Derrick stands immediately, recognition on his face. “Do you know anything?” he asks.

“Maura called and said that Brooks collapsed,” the man says, running a shaky hand through his white hair. “Told us to get here as fast as we could. Are the kids okay? Is Brooks okay?”

“I don’t know,” Derrick croaks. “Maura and the kids are back there.”

Like he’s conjured her, the doors to our left open, and Maura appears.

It’s obvious from her swollen eyes and red face that she’s been sobbing. She runs to the people I assume are her parents and breaks down. They hold her, murmuring words of comfort.

Seeing someone breakdown like that?

It’s a humbling experience. My heart cracks in two for her. For her kids. For Derrick.

She hiccups, and tears flood her eyes again. “He’s gone. He’s really gone. It was… They’re saying it was an aneurysm. He’d been complaining of headaches—” She holds her own head, taking several breaths. “I didn’t think it was anything serious or I would’ve made him go to the hospital. I…” She straightens and looks at her parents. “Is this my fault? I should’ve known something was wrong. Brooks never gets headaches and…” Trailing off, she sinks to the floor.

Her mother goes with her, tentatively lowering herself, her husband helping her down. Then she wraps her daughter up and rocks her from side to side.

I feel sick to my stomach, like I could vomit into the nearest trashcan. Lightheaded, I sit. The last thing any of these people needs is to have to deal with me because I’ve passed out.

“The kids are saying their goodbyes now. His parents should be here any minute. He wanted… he always said that he’d want to donate his organs, so we don’t have much time.” She wipes at her wet face. “God, I can’t believe I’m talking about his organs right now. My husband is dead, and I’m worrying about that.”

Maura’s mother stands with the help of her husband, then the two of them help their daughter to her feet, though she can’t fully straighten.

It’s like, suddenly, she’s carrying the weight of the world.

“Do you want to see him, Derrick? You can come back if you want.”

Derrick freezes, then very carefully shakes his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I just… I’m sorry. I have to go.” He takes off toward the exit.

I stand and give Maura’s hand a squeeze. I don’t want to say I’m sorry. It’s not what she needs right now. Instead, I say, “We’ll check in and see if you need anything, okay?”

Maura nods, and her parents give me sad, appreciative smiles.

Outside, I find Derrick pacing in front of the hospital, hands clasped behind his head.

When he turns to me, his face is streaked with tears.

I hate this—being completely and utterly useless. I don’t know what to do or what to say. His best friend just died. There’s no way to ease a sting like this.

“Do you need a minute?” I ask him. “Before we go?”

He shakes his head, wiping at his face. “No, I need to get out of here.”

“Okay. Truck’s this way.”

He follows and doesn’t protest when I get in the driver’s side. He’s in no state to get us home.

The silence in the cab remains the whole way home, only interrupted by a sniffle from him every now and then.

Once I’ve cut the engine in the driveway, we sit, both staring out the windshield.

Derrick turns to me slowly, eyes swollen and nose red. “He’s gone.” He snaps his fingers. “Just like that. He was going about his day like normal and now he’s not here.”

With my hands settled on the steering wheel, I stay quiet and let him talk.

“Life is really that fragile.” He looks out the window when he says it. “Nothing is a guarantee.”

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