Infinity: Based on a True Story (22 page)

“There is something else you should know,” Sonny murmurs, turning to face me completely.

“What? What more could there be?” I snap. I’m pissed. And hurting, and I feel suffocated. My chest feels so tight, my body full of raw, ugly emotions.

“The woman’s lung they donated… she was a result of the crash Max was in.”

I peer into her eyes. “What?”

“A city bus hit Max. Totaled the car, and damaged a lot. The cops told Eugene the impact was strong because Max was most likely speeding. From what witnesses were saying, Max’s car flipped a total of eight times before it stopped. During one of those flips, the car hit a woman. She apparently was walking to work. When they found her on the side of the road, her heart was barely beating. Somehow her lungs were perfectly fine though…”

A trail of hotness rolls down my cheeks, and I shut my eyes, imagining that poor woman being hit by a flipping car. I imagine Max, and how terrified he must have been inside of it, unable to do anything.

I can’t believe this.

How is this my life?

How did this happen?

It seems I’ve traded my health for his life… but if I had a choice, I’d choose dying over losing him because I can’t handle this. I’ve been through a lot of shit, but most of that shit was with Max. Losing him is losing a huge part of who I am.

“How many days do I have to wait?” My voice cracks.

“At least wait one more day,” John responds, stroking my forearm. He stands, exhaling slowly as he cups my face in his hands. He tries to get my eyes on his, but I can’t look at him. Not because I don’t want to, but because I was so wrong.

If I’d stayed home, I could have died there. Max never would have gotten into that wreck—never hit by a damn city bus. Why couldn’t it have been a simple car? A motorcycle—something small.

“I know you’re hurting,” John whispers in my ear as he wraps his arms around me, “and I know you want to forget everything you’ve gone through and go now, but please, Shannon. Just listen to me for once. Just please… stay here. I will take you to see him myself once you’re better. I will make sure you see Max before we are out of this hospital. You have my word.”

Thick tears line my cheeks, but I bury my face into his chest. I don’t want to cry, but I can’t help it. So much has happened within the past two weeks. So much that I could have controlled and changed, but I was too stubborn and selfish to do so.

Sonny pulls away, going for the sofa to grieve some more.

John sits on the edge of the bed and continues to hold me. His tight embrace is warm, but it’s not enough. It’s not what I need. I won’t feel complete until I see Max. I won’t feel complete until I can talk to him again.

He can’t be gone that quickly. I refuse to believe it.

I can’t give up on him.

I can’t because Max has never given up on me, despite the fact that I had been facing death.

Max would want me to fight for him if he couldn’t, and I’m going to do just that.

D
o
you know what it’s like to lose someone dear to you?

To lose someone that is so close to your heart that you feel you will never function properly without them?

You’d do anything to get that person back. You’d fight like hell, through flames and fury. You’d sacrifice whatever you have as long as you get to see that person smile one last time.

A loss is devastating.

I have lost many friends over the years—hell, I lost my father and was raised by a mother who couldn’t have given two shits about me.

It was hard to recover from losing Dad, and to this day I wish he were here to see how his girls grew up, but losing
Max?

Losing Max is like losing my beginning—my fresh start and guide to that first round of genuine, complete happiness.

Losing Max is earth shattering, almost like a shift in the air, a dreadful turn down the wrong dark alley.

I won’t say he is my soulmate, because he isn’t. John is, and he always will be.

But Max was my friend—a best friend—and he was honest and true and he had so much good in his heart that he constantly failed to recognize.

Yes, he made mistakes, and he always reacted before thinking things through, and maybe we shouldn’t have said or done certain things to one another in the past, but we got over it.

Shit happens.
Life
happens.

Just like me, he’d lost so much, so to know that he is losing his
life
… well, I just can’t bear the thought of it. It’s not fair.

That’s why I have waited until 3:37 in the morning to do this.

I carefully took out my IV less than an hour ago. My hand is sore and my body is still a bit drugged up from the meds, so as I climb out of bed, I stumble a bit, but not too much.

John is sound asleep on the sofa. He has to be exhausted. He’s snoring, and he only snores when he’s dead tired. I guess since I’m awake now, he’s found some peace.

Sonny took off to a hotel just around the block. She has a room booked and the only reason she is there is because John is taking up the couch.

She promised she’d be back before 7 a.m.

Before she left, she gave me a gift that was from Max. A gift that I really wish she’d waited to give me because seeing it broke what was left of my heart.

It was the locket he bought from the market. I thought for sure it was a mistake—that it belonged to him, that is until I opened it and saw the pictures of everyone I loved inside of it.

There was picture of me and John on the right. A wedding photo of ours that he most likely took when he visited our home, and a rare candid of Sonny and Max on the left.

I took the last picture the day we all went to the Appalachians. Sonny had hit him with a snowball and he got her back with a bowling ball sized snowball. It was hilarious, and we laughed about it over hot cocoa and s’mores.

As much as Sonny couldn’t stand Max, I knew she couldn’t hate him. They shared their differences and were always at each other’s throats, but I knew she cared about him a lot more than she led him to believe.

In a way, he was like the big brother she never had. Fighting like cats and dogs, but getting along really well with one another and behaving when need be.

It was so thoughtful of him to do this, to give this to me. Now I really know I can’t sit here.

I can’t even sleep.

I have to go.

This gift gives me all the more reason to make a move, do something and not just sit around, wasting the precious minutes that I could be giving to Max right now.

I have to go before I get caught.

If John wakes up, he will know where I am. I just hope he doesn’t worry too much… or get too upset.

I tip-toe across the cool linoleum, making my way to the door. Fortunately it doesn’t creak. It swings open with ease, and when I’m halfway out the door, I glance back.

He’s still snoring.

Good.

I peer down the hallway, left and right, and when the coast is nearly clear, I head for the elevator. I stumble inside the cart. My room is on the second floor, which means he’s on the fifth.

I press the button, impatiently jamming my thumb down on the close button.

When I’m finally there, I walk towards the desk where a woman is typing on the computer. Her back is facing me, and even as the elevator chimes, she doesn’t turn to look back.

Something tells me if she saw me in this hospital gown she’d send me right back to my room. I don’t bother waiting for her to look back. I dip down the first hallway and make a round, searching for the last name Grant.

It takes me until the second corridor before I finally find it.

And when I see his last and first name, my heart seems to jump to my throat. I take in a ragged breath, pressing my palm to the hard oak, briefly shutting my eyes.

“Max,” I whisper.

I grip the handle, and I am so close to opening it—so close to walking right in and seeing him.

But then fear strikes me, and I release the handle, backing away from the door and staring at it with wide, distressed eyes.

I… I can’t see him yet. If I see him that means I may have to let go and I’m not ready to do that yet.

But what if he wakes up when he hears my voice?

I doubt it will happen that way… but what if?

Screw it.

I push the door open slowly, and at first it’s dark, but as I open it a little further, I spot a dim, gold light shining from the ceiling. It’s in the middle of the room, and it shines right down on him.

On Maximilian Grant.

I slip into the room, but my heartbeat is erratic as I shut the door behind me. The machine to his right beeps slowly. A loud, windy noise constantly moves through the room. Life support.

I look to the left and spot the machine hooked to his chest. The only thing that is keeping him alive.

I stop in my tracks, and when I see him laying there, so battered up, so bruised, and so damn near lifeless, I break.

Like a dam, the tears break loose, spilling down my face. “Oh, Max,” I cry in a whisper, rushing for the bed.

I bend over him, and despite the pain I feel on my body, it can’t even compare to the pain I feel in my heart.

I stroke his face, his smooth, tan skin running across my palm. He looks so peaceful. His large body takes up the entire bed, but I make way to sit beside him.

His chest is working up and down, lifting higher than usual.

“Why did this have to happen to you?” My voice manages to break, the tears spilling on his chest. “It was supposed to be me. Not you. I… I just want you to know that I’m sorry. About everything. About the past. About… the
baby
. About all of it. I’m so, so sorry.”

I don’t know why I expect him to respond. I watch his face, study it for some kind of change, some sort of reaction, but there is nothing. No sound from him. Just forced breaths.

A beeping machine.

I drop my forehead on his chest, bringing my hand down to entwine our fingers. His hands feel so cold… like he’s already dead but I know he’s still there. He has to be. I need him to be.

I cry for a while, hearing the clock ticking on the wall behind me, the minutes passing and the night shifting into day. Not once do I move. I really don’t think I can pull away.

I turn my head, eyes swollen and damp, and look out of the window, watching the horizon, the sun about to make its arrival.

The sky is filled with splashes of pink and orange and yellow. The clouds are stretched, parting for the sun to make a breakthrough.

“Look, Max,” I breathe. “It’s so beautiful.” I smile, gripping his hand tighter, a warm feeling settling in my chest. “You know what this reminds me of? Remember that wild Kings of Leon concert? I wanted to go so badly and you got me tickets. Remember? I was so damn excited the night before that I couldn’t sleep, so I stared out of the window the entire time while you slept. And I watched the sun rise and it was the most beautiful sunrise I’d ever witnessed.” I pause. “But I take that back now because this… this right here. In Paris. With you. It’s more than beautiful. It’s spectacular. It can’t be beaten.” I laugh as I bury the side of my face into his chest. “Too bad we had to leave the concert early. I was dog-tired,” I giggle. “I was so tired and you were laughing so hard at me. I felt like such a loser that day, missing one of the greatest concerts ever. Should’ve recorded it, huh?”

I lift my head to look up at him.

His chest still rises and sinks, his body motionless.

“You know what else? I love the locket. You totally tricked me! I thought it was really a keepsake for yourself.” I laugh wholeheartedly.

But then my eyes prick and the silence deafens me. I finally decide to sit up, releasing his hand and pulling the blanket on top of him to keep him warm. I’m not sure if he feels that warmth, but his body is cold.

As I remain by his side, the door swings open and Eugene walks in with a cup of coffee in hand. When he spots me, he looks very surprised.

“Oh, Shannon,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon.”

I swipe my eyes, forcing a smile. “I’m… uh... I’m not supposed to be here. I snuck out.”

“Typical Shannon,” he jokes, placing his cup down and folding his arms. His smile fades, and his face becomes tight. His eyes swing over to Max, and I see tears forming at the brink of them as he says, “Can’t believe I’m about to lose him too.”

And there they are. The words I don’t want to hear. He’s going to do it. He’s going to pull the plug.

I stand from the bed, walking towards him. “You don’t think he has a chance?” I ask and I can feel my bottom lip trembling.

Damn it. Stop crying, Shannon. No more tears right now. Please!

Eugene sighs, walking towards me and capping my shoulders. He then turns me around, and says, “Shannon, look at him and tell me what you see.”

I watch Max, how his chest elevates while the rest of his body remains perfectly still. I shut my eyes. I can’t bear it. I can’t think about it.

“If you do this… I’ll never get to see him again.”

“I
have
to do this. It’s what he would want. Max wouldn’t want to be a vegetable.”

He’s right, but I argue anyway. “Yes, that’s true, but who knows?” I shrug, forcing a wary smile. “Maybe he’ll come out of it one day and slowly build himself back up again.”

Eugene shakes his head, and his eyes start to water again. The sunlight makes the tears sparkle, and when he finally makes a move, he rubs his head, focusing on me.

“You know what conclusion I’ve come to terms with?”

“What?” I ask, defeated.

“I think Max was your sacrifice.”

Huh? “
What do you mean?”

“Month after month, all he could talk about was how he wished he could help—how he wished he could donate his lung and save your life. He even said he’d die for you, and you know what? I believed him. When Max makes a decision, he runs with it. When he has his mind set on something, he sticks it out until the end.

“Now, I know it may not seem okay to you right now and I know it hurts, but if that crash hadn’t happened, you would be gone and Max would have spiraled and he probably wouldn’t have found his way back out. I hate that it was him and I hate that it was so soon, but this,” he smiles, “this is what he would have wanted… and I think you already know that. In a way, I think God is saying that you are stronger than he is, emotionally.

“You may not be able to handle what has happened to him right now, but you will later on. It will still hurt—burn every time you think about it, but you will be okay. As for Max? Well, let’s just say if he would have lost you, he never would have been the same afterwards. He wouldn’t have known how to cope.”

Eugene’s words hit me like a tidal wave.

Sorrow floods every single part of my frail body. It takes over, but I nod, keeping my head up and remaining strong. I turn to look at Max again, stepping towards him, running my hand across his cheek.

Eugene is right, but I hate that I’m losing someone else.

I hate that it’s Max.

I hate that my life is so fucked up.

I hate that I can’t ever have complete happiness.

It seems my life comes with a big price tag over it. If I don’t bargain, I don’t survive.

“I know,” I whisper.

Eugene caps my shoulder. “I’ll give you a minute. Take all the time you need.”

But I know what he’s really saying. He’s telling me without actually telling me that once I leave this room, he’s going to have them pull the plug.

Max is going to be gone for good, and the next time I see him will probably be when his body is in a casket.

Eugene is out of the door before I know it, and as soon as he is, I slide up to Max’s side, draping my arm across his middle and holding him so close to me I feel we are one. There is barely a heartbeat. It’s faint.

Distant.

He can’t talk to me, but I shut my eyes and weep, allowing former memories to sink in and speak for him.

I laugh at some of them and then I cry with some.

I remember it all, from the very first day we met in Capri. I remember our first kiss.

I remember the first time we made love.

I remember the first time we argued.

I remember it all, and I thank God for all of it.

Each beautiful, sweet moment.

Each heartbreaking, damaging minute.

Each second.

Each breath.

Everything.

I fall asleep at Max’s side, and for the first time since hearing the news, I feel okay.

I dream of him and those dimples, his silly ways. I’m laughing with him, and I can’t forget to mention that John and Sonny are there, laughing with us.

We are all okay.

We are all happy.

There is no hostility or sickness.

It is perfect.

And then I realize something…

Every time I close my eyes, I will see Maximilian Grant. Every time I see club Capri, drink pink moscato, and dance, I will think of him.

Maximilian Grant will never be forgotten.

My memories of him will forever be cherished.

They will be protected, and they will rest in peace with me even when it’s my time to go.