Page 63 of Between Now and Forever

“The worst is over. Just bring that cake back here. We still need to talk about what happened by the lake.”

At the mention of the lake, I think of Carter…and I can’t help but smile because I’m filled with warmth and longing at the memory of him.

“I can’t wait. I have so much to tell you.”

He smiles, but it turns into a yawn.

“I’ve got nothing but time. See you when you get back.”

* * *

I’m climbingout of my cab when Erin comes running out of the entrance. Her face is tear streaked. But it’s the devastation in her eyes that yanks me out of my shallow wallow and plunges me straight into the deep end of panic.

“Hurry,” is all she says before she turns and runs back inside. I don’t realize I’ve dropped the cake I’m holding until it lands with a splat at my feet. I step over the mess on the pavement and break into a run. My heart is racing wildly, and I’m running as fast as I can manage. Behind me I hear Erin calling my name.

I turn the corner to the corridor where his room is and run full speed into a cart parked in the hallway outside his room.

It’s and James’ bed is completely surrounded. I stare, tears blurring my vision.

“What happened?” I ask no on in particular. One of the nurses standing by his bed looks up at me.

Her red-rimmed eyes are haunted and her hair looks like she’s been trying to pull it out by the root.

Erin catches up to me and I turn and pose the question to her.

She looks like she hasn’t slept in years.

“I don’t know, Liz. He was talking. Then, he said his head hurt, and I called the nurse. They gave him something for the pain. He fell asleep and then next thing I know all the machines go off.” She covers her mouth as if to muffle a scream, her eyes wide with terror.

“Where are my parents?” I ask.

“They’re on their way,” she

A throat clears behind us, and we both turn around. The question on my tongue dies when I see the look of defeat on the doctor’s face.

He starts to speak, but I don’t hear anything but the sound of someone screaming. It sounds far away, like my head is under water. I walk into his room and watch as the nurses and doctors who were working on him, stand around the bed, some of them look dumbstruck. One of the nurses, a young man, is crying.

I slump against the wall and slide slowly to the floor.

My tears, the ones that James called as rare as rainbows, are infinite. I cry unceasingly. My father demands that I stop. But not even his angry orders hold sway over this river of anguish.

Hours later, when it’s all over, I’m still there.

It’s only when they finally come to take his body away at sunset that the tears stop. All that’s left is a place in me that feels hollowed out and raw.

I want to linger in the place where my brother exhaled his last breath, and when I ask if I can stay, no one says no. I lie down on the floor where his bed was and I try to smell him.

I don’t remember falling asleep. But when I wake up, the sun is shining. A gentle hand on my shoulder shakes me awake. I open my eyes. My face is pressed to the floor and covered in what at first I thought was drool, but when I lift my face, I realize it’s tears. I sit up, bleary-eyed and cotton mouthed and blink against the bright light.

The machines are all off. My ears ring with the damning absoluteness of the silence.

Panic seizes me and I shake with the effort it takes to deny the truth in my mind.

This can’t be.

The machines are off.

There’s no one for them to keep alive.

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