In the Middle of Nowhere (31 page)

He got my attention, briefly, and I glanced
over at him.

Brian turned and smiled at me, a genuine and
thoughtful smile. “How can I not? You two are a huge part of your
mother, probably the best part of her.”

I studied Brian as he looked forward,
scrutinizing the road in front of us, driving cautiously and on a
mission to get me to a place I needed to be.

We finally reached the parking lot that led
to the dock and even though only one of the lanes was plowed, Brian
was able to maneuver down it. Luckily the ferry was already there
and a handful of people were starting to board. Perfect timing.

Brian stopped the truck right near the
entrance so I could safely climb out. I opened up the heavy metal
door and was met with a blast of icy wind.

I turned to run for the ferry, but thought
better of it and stopped. I decided to swallow my pride and break
my silence. “Thank you,” I said to Brian as I looked him in
directly in the eyes and meant it. “Thank you very much.”

• • •

The ferry ride took a little longer than
normal. The inside of the cabin seemed to be colder than normal,
too. Maybe it just seemed colder because I was really nervous about
going to the hospital and seeing Michael. I had never visited
anyone in a hospital before and didn’t know what to expect.

I hailed a cab, even though the hospital
wasn’t too far from the pier. I was in a hurry and didn’t want to
waste time walking.

It was no surprise that the city streets were
fully plowed, creating mountain-sized snow banks on either side of
them. Before I knew it, we pulled up to the entrance of Maine
Medical Center. I paid the driver and got out. I walked inside the
big and impressive hospital. I went up to the front desk and asked
for the room number of Michael Cooper.

“Are you family?” the receptionist asked.

I shook my head. “No, just a friend.”

She studied me for a minute before answering.
“I’m not sure you’d be allowed to see him. I can send you up to his
floor and there you’ll have to ask the nurse in charge.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

She gave me a piece of paper with the number
ten written on it. I followed the signs for the elevator and waited
along with other visitors. All of a sudden I was overcome with heat
and thought I might pass out. I leaned on the wall next to me for
support. About a minute later, our elevator dinged and opened.
Carefully, I followed the others on.

When I got to the tenth floor, I stepped off
the elevator and was immediately hit with another blast of heat.
Once again, I felt overwhelmed and shaky. As I walked, I held onto
the railing along the wall until I found an area labeled “nurses
station.”

I cleared my throat to get the attention of a
burly nurse. “Excuse me.”

She looked up. “Can I help you?”

I explained to her that I was a friend of
Michael’s and wanted to see him. She told me he was very ill with
pneumonia and that she’d need to ask permission from his mother
first. She told me to wait near her desk while she went and
checked. I took off my coat and tried to cool off.

I couldn’t believe I got this close to
Michael and might not be able to see him after all. What if his
mother said no or what if he was too sick to have any visitors? His
mother had never even met me before. She might think I was a
stalker or a creeper for just showing up without being invited.

I heard many different sounds as I waited,
mostly machines making beeping and whirring noises. I quickly
became nauseated by the scent of disinfectant. I didn’t think I
could ever be a nurse, I concluded. I felt uneasy just standing in
the hallway outside of the patients’ rooms.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a blonde,
attractive, nicely dressed woman walking toward me. Where was the
nurse and who was this woman?

“Hello, Willow,” she said as she extended her
hand. “I’m Mrs. Cooper. It is very nice to meet you.”

I took her hand and shook. Her hand was cold
and clammy. Immediately I saw traces of Michael in his mother’s
face. She was an older and more feminine version of her son.

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” I smiled.

“I understand you want to see Michael.”

I nodded.

“Initially I said no when the nurse asked me,
but Michael overheard us talking and he insisted you be allowed in
to see him.”

She smiled as she said this, but it wasn’t
genuine and she seemed cautious, as though my seeing her son was
the last thing she wanted.

“I must warn you, he is very, very sick.” She
turned away from me, put her hand to her neck and got choked up.
“Probably the sickest he’s ever been.”

I shook my head and slowly backed up. “I
don’t need to go in, then. I’ll leave.”

She reached forward and grabbed my arm. “No!
Michael insisted!” She tried to compose herself. “
I
insist
you visit with him. Please.”

I tilted my head and must have had a look of
complete and utter confusion on my face.

Mrs. Cooper softened. “Please, Willow. Come
with me and see my son. Even though we’ve never met until today,
I’ve known about you for quite some time.” She smiled and, this
time, it was sincere. “Nothing would make Michael happier.”

“Okay,” I said softly as I followed Mrs.
Cooper down the corridor to the room where her son lay, as sick as
he’d ever been, wanting so desperately to see me, and I him.

• • •

Mrs. Cooper and I finally reached Michael’s
room, #1010. A sign outside the door read: M. COOPER. Michael’s
mother entered the hospital room while I lingered back inside the
doorway. I was afraid to walk in and see him. His mother sensed my
hesitancy and motioned me toward her. I braced myself and took a
couple of steps forward.

Michael rested in bed. His eyes were closed
and his head was slightly turned toward the big picture window.
There was no sunlight anymore, just gray clouds and the dismal sky
beyond.

I was wary of all the machines and the tubes
and wires that were sticking out everywhere. They seemed to be
either going into poor Michael or coming out of him somewhere.

An oxygen tube stuck out of Michael’s nose
and as he lay there, I saw his chest heave unnaturally as he
struggled to breathe. I was so upset seeing him like this, I wanted
to turn and run. I didn’t have the chance. Michael’s mother called
softly to her oldest son. “Michael, honey? Are you awake?”

Michael opened his eyes and slowly turned his
head toward his mother’s voice. He saw me immediately and, when he
did, his whole face lit up. His mother noticed.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” she said before
she turned and walked out.

We both watched as his mother left. I turned
to study Michael and wondered. How could he have gone from looking
so healthy only a few days before to looking so sickly? I had never
seen anyone ill with pneumonia before, especially someone with
cystic fibrosis.

Even so, Michael suddenly had a small burst
of energy and slid over. He patted the only free space on his
hospital bed. Though I was filled with trepidation, I walked over
to him and sat down beside him.

“Can you hand me that please?” he asked as he
motioned to a Styrofoam cup filled with water on the nightstand
next to me.

I gave him the cup. He took a long sip from
it and handed it back. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” I said and put it back on
the table. I noticed another table across the room with a tray of
food on it. I pointed to it. “Are you hungry, too?”

Michael looked at his untouched hospital food
and joked. “I’ll give you every last penny in my savings account if
you eat every bite on that tray … without gagging.”

“Is it that bad?” I asked, unaware of the
terrible reputation of hospital food.

Michael grinned and nodded. “That bad.”

Despite the fact that he was so ill, Michael
still had that mischievousness in his eyes. And he still looked
handsome, even as he lay there, so weak and vulnerable.

Michael winked at me as he took my hand and
held it. He raised his arm toward the ceiling, while my hand
remained safely in his.

“Look,” he said. “Just like two pieces of a
puzzle, our hands fit perfectly together.”

I smiled in agreement, yet was alarmed by the
grayish blue color of his fingernails. Michael abruptly let go of
my hand, turned away and had a severe coughing fit. Exhausted, he
laid his head back on his pillow and closed his eyes.

Michael looked so sick and defeated. He was
so pale and frail and I couldn’t bear to see him like that anymore.
I wanted to get up and flee from the room and never come back. It
was painful watching him suffer before my very eyes. I couldn’t
risk loving this boy who might die and leave me all alone. I turned
away as tears welled up inside of me. I held them back as best I
could. I did not want Michael to see me crying, to see the fear
deep inside of me.

Michael turned his head toward me and slowly
opened his eyes. He took my hand again and rubbed it. “What’s
wrong?”

I had to ask it. I couldn’t keep it in any
longer. I needed to know. “Are you going to die?” I stammered as a
single tear escaped and rolled down my face.

Michael brushed it away with his thumb and
looked into my moist, blue eyes before answering. He was thoughtful
and said, “We are all dying, aren’t we, Willow, from the very
moment we are born?”

I burst into tears and laid my head on his
shoulder. Michael was right. When I really thought about it, I
realized that from the minute we entered this world, we embark on
our own journeys down the path of life, a path that inevitably
merges with the path of death.

Michael tried to console me as he ran his
fingers through my hair. How ironic. Michael was comforting me,
when I needed to be comforting him.

I sat up and grabbed a tissue from the
nightstand. I dried my eyes and nose.

“Hey,” he said. “None of us knows when the
end is near, so why waste time and be sad thinking about it?”

I sniffled. “I know.”

“Sweet dreams, my dear, sweet dreams, you
dare? Be done with dreams, and face your fear,” he recited.

Stunned, I looked at Michael. That was it.
That was the very first poem Michael sent to me in the form of a
tiny paper airplane back in September.

“You remembered!”

He nodded. “It just came to me. We all need
to face our fears, Willow. Otherwise, life isn’t worth living.”

Slowly I nodded and kept my head down.
Michael was right. I was afraid of loving him, of loving anyone,
especially after losing my father, but I would never know true love
if I wasn’t willing to take the chance and find out.

As if reading my thoughts, Michael carefully
removed the oxygen tube from his nose and placed it under his
pillow. It made a soft hissing sound. He took my other hand and
spoke ever so quietly. “Come here.”

Right away, the butterflies came. Michael
pulled me toward him. The sick boy lying in the hospital bed raised
his head toward mine and closed his eyes. I closed mine and somehow
found his lips touching mine, the softest lips I had ever felt
before, lingered on top of mine.

Michael gently took the back of my head in
his hand and kissed me tenderly at first, and then more eagerly, as
if it was the last kiss of his life. I felt his desperation and the
passion from deep within in him. I cried as I kissed him back, as
tears of contentedness fell from my face onto his.

The butterflies in my stomach flew away and
were replaced with a sense of knowing, knowing in my gut that
everything was going to be all right. I stopped crying, pulled back
and looked at him. Michael opened his eyes and met my gaze. No
words were needed. We both smiled and came together again as I
shared my first real kiss with a boy I was finally getting to
know.

EPILOGUE

As I straightened my hair, I studied my
reflection in the mirror. I had moved to Pike’s Island less than a
year before, but felt as if I had lived there my whole life. I felt
older and wiser than when I had first arrived. A lot could happen
in a short amount of time, I realized, as I brushed my hair and
fastened a clip with a delicate, red rose to the side of my
head.

I turned from side to side and was happy with
what I saw. I put on the least amount of makeup, only eyeliner and
mascara, and looked naturally healthy because of my tan, which was
a fringe benefit of the warm, summer weather.

I picked up the last poem that Michael had
written me. It had its own special place on top of my vanity table.
It read:

“Days will pass,

Lives will change,

Futures are uncertain.

But love remains the same,

It’s timeless and unbroken,

And holds onto good times past.