Page 10 of The Refiner

“You said on the phone that she’s in a coma.” My brain searches for anything to hold on to instead of the word death.

“She’s in a vegetative state after suffering from heart failure,” Dr. Cox clarifies. “The pregnancy caused peripartum cardiomyopathy. The condition occurs in one out of every four thousand pregnancies. Only 25 to 50 percent of women survive it. In Piper’s case, we didn’t catch it in time.”

“So you’re saying she’s not in that lucky 25-50 percent of women who make it?” My chin quivers and I fight back the tears. I promised I wouldn’t cry. “That even though she’s lying in that bed down the hall, there’s no hope? My sister won’t pull through this?”

The slight dip of Dr. Cox’s chin is answer enough. “I’m sorry, Keagan. We did everything we could.”

Obviously not. “Can I see her now?” I can’t stand one more second without my sister.

“There’s one more thing.”

I let out a ball of frustration that sounds more like a sob and less like an unimpressed laugh. “Sure, hit me. What could be worse than hearing my sister is brain dead?” The very words tear through my chest like razors. My sister, my beautiful sister, who I will never talk to again, is brain dead.

“Your sister has an advanced directive.”

I wipe under my eyes and breathe through my mouth harshly. “What is that? Is it like a will?”

“Sort of. It’s her wishes in case she’s ever in this type of medical situation.”

Now I really do laugh. “Now that sounds like my responsible sister—always prepared for anything.” I shake my head. “Do I need to sign it so you can do what she wants?”

Dr. Cox doesn’t look all that happy with my guess. “Yes, when you’re ready.”

I don’t have time for niceties. I just want to be with my sister. “Give it to me. I’ll sign it now.”

I look at Dr. Cox’s empty hands, but he clarifies the situation with one sentence. “Dr. McKellan does not wish to be on life support.”

I can’t breathe. All I can do is choke back the tears I promised not to cry. “Are you saying you want me to let you kill her now so we can all go home?” My words are untrue and bitter. I know they aren’t killing Piper. If she’s brain dead, only the machines are keeping her body alive. But I just got here. I haven’t even seen her yet. They can’t expect me to just let her goright now.

“No, Ms. McKellan, that’s not what I’m suggesting. Piper wishes to remain on life support until her next of kin—you—can make the final decision.” Dr. Cox swallows. “It’s an unusual request, but not one we haven’t encountered before.”

The tears I promised not to shed roll down my face in waves, dropping onto my shirt like heavy boulders of agony. “Our parents died instantly in a car crash,” I tell Dr. Cox through the tears, swiping angrily under my eyes. “I was young at the time.”

I remember screaming at Piper that it would have been easier if we had been able to say goodbye. If our parents had just made it to the hospital and lived a moment, we would have been able to make better peace with their deaths. Piper argued that it was better this way—quick. They felt no pain. But I didn’t care. They could have taken a moment of the pain for the agony we felt losing them for a lifetime. It was only fair.

And selfish.

I see that now.

But my damn, too-sweet-for-her-own-good sister is giving me what I wanted back then. She’s giving me the chance to decide. “She’s giving me peace,” I admit to Dr. Cox with a sniffle, “and control of the situation. She’s giving me closure on my terms.” Gah, I want to wring her fucking neck and then hug her until she opens her eyes and tells me to get off her.

“It’s a heavy burden to bear, but she wanted you to make the final decision when she could leave this world.”

I nod at Dr. Cox. “Is she in pain?” I want time with my sister, but not at the expense of her suffering.

“We have her comfortable, but her body is tired.”

It’s an answer within an answer. Piper’s holding on, but it would be selfish of me to keep her here for any longer than necessary. “Okay,” I whisper. “I understand. I’d like to see her now.”

“Of course.” Dr. Cox finally steps to the side, clearing the way to my sister.

I brush past him and the nurse, and keep my gaze locked on room 456, the room that holds my very soul and my last goodbye.

I can feel Dr. Cox and the nurse at my back, following, waiting for me to have a meltdown in the hallway. But I won’t. I won’t break because my sister expects me to be strong. For her. For me. And for the new baby.

Pushing open the door, I pause, inhaling, and willing the tears away as I lift my gaze to the lifeless body. The gown hangs off Piper’s shoulder, her face pale, her lips dry. It looks like she’s simply asleep. If it wasn’t for the dozens of wires covering her chest, the machines beeping with the sound of her heartbeat, I could pretend that she’s only resting. In the morning, things will be better. Piper will wake up, and we’ll all have this big laugh about how she pranked us good.

But what keeps me from retreating to that alternate reality is not those wires or machines but her belly. The flat stomach I remember is no longer smooth against her hips but rounded where she kept her deepest secret from me—her baby.

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