It's a Green Thing (22 page)

“Or protect her.”

He held up his hands. “Not that it helped.”

“I am certain that Marissa loves you.”

He seemed surprised. “I don't know why you'd say that. Marissa and I were always fighting over something. I'm sure she told you about it.”

“She did. She also told me things that made me realize how much she cared about you.”

I knew by his expression that he didn't believe me.

“That's the main reason she didn't want to go away to college.”

He just stared at me now, shaking his head. “She said that?”

“Yes, it was a very private confession. But now that…well, I don't think she'd mind if I told you. She said that she knew you loved her but that you were trying too hard to make her toe the line.”

“Probably why she rebelled so much.”

“I don't know…”

“I do.”

“If it's any consolation, I said some of the same kinds of things to her. She always accused me of lecturing her.”

“But she considered you a friend.”

“I considered her a friend too. I love Marissa.” I was starting to cry again.

“I'm glad you were her friend, Maya.” He had tears as well.

“But she's still here.” I wanted to be hopeful. “She might make it.”

“She
might
…” But I could tell as he said this, he didn't believe it. He'd given up.

“Thousands of people are praying for her, Mr. Phillips.”

He nodded and then blew his nose. “Yes. I appreciate that.”

I wanted to say something else, something more encouraging. But he just turned and slowly walked away. He looked defeated, like he'd been beaten.

The nurse finished, and with tears in my eyes, I went in to visit Marissa. But I didn't want her to know how discouraged I felt or how miserable her dad was just now. Not that she would really know. But just in case I kept my voice cheerful. And, as usual, I started out by talking naturally, like we were sitting at the mall having lunch together. Then I got more serious and told her how I loved her and how God loved her even more. And I read from the Bible—verses about believing in Jesus and eternal life. I told her about a place beyond death. A place that Jesus was preparing for us.

“But I really want you to stick around, Marissa. I need you. I want you to fight this and to get well. I am praying for a miracle. And lots of others are praying too. We want you back.”

I continued talking, like I always do, just rambling on and on. Sometimes, like today, I feel silly, like I am fooling myself. Some of her other close friends, like Chloe and Allie, have been allowed to visit her too. And they've been doing the same thing. Although there's no way to know if she can hear any of this, we think it could help. And an older nurse named Carmen assured me that it could make a difference.

“I've talked to patients who recover from comas, and I'm amazed at how much they could perceive while they were unconscious,” she told me a day or two ago. “The brain is a very mysterious thing.”

“Do you think she'll wake up?” I asked hopefully.

“Only God knows, dear.”

And I know that's true, but I'll admit that I'm getting impatient. At the same time, I'm glad Marissa is still here. I imagine her listening to us, trapped inside her motionless body, taking in our words and processing the Bible verses and our invitations to eternal life…and I try to believe that God is at work. I try to have faith. But it's not easy.

Sometimes I feel like I'm on an emotional roller-coaster ride of my own. I go through bouts of feeling guilty, like why didn't I say more to her? Why didn't I keep her from going to the lake party? Or why didn't I go with her and make sure she got safely
home? Then I get angry and think, how is it fair that her selfish choices are now hurting everyone? Why does one person get to hold dozens of others hostage like this? Of course that just makes me feel guilty. How can I think such horrid thoughts when someone I love is so close to death? Then I get sad and wonder what it would feel like to be Marissa right now. Stuck in some kind of life-or-death limbo. And so I pray and try to muster up enough faith to move a mountain. Up and down and all around, I wonder when the ride will end.

But there have been a couple of bright spots in my week. On Wednesday morning at the hospital, Dominic took me aside to talk. Fortunately, he kept it short and sweet. I'm sure that's all I could take.

“I'm so sorry, Maya. I realize what a complete jerk I've been. And I'm really sorry. I hope you'll forgive me.”

“I do forgive you,” I said quickly. “And I'm sorry too.”

“Yeah, I got your message. Thanks.”

“And maybe…when things settle down…maybe we can talk about it.”

He sighed. “Yeah, when things settle down. And just so you know, I'm going to be meeting with Josh on a weekly basis now. Kind of like you do with Caitlin.”

I looked at him like this was a surprise. “That's cool.”

“Yeah. I think I need to grow up some.”

“I think we all do.” I glanced over to the ICU area. “Marissa is a good reminder of that.”

“Eddie's doing a lot better,” he said.

“Yeah, I talked to him yesterday. Sounds like he'll be released in a few days.”

“He's miserable over what happened to Marissa.”

“I know. He told me that they'd both had too much to drink. But he convinced her that he was sober enough to drive.” Just saying this made my eyes fill with tears. “I told Marissa so many times”—I choked on my words—“to be careful…not to go…that it was dangerous.”

Dominic put his arms around me. Not in that passionate way, but in a pure brotherly hug, and I rested there awhile. Just crying.

“I'm sure Marissa wishes she'd listened,” he said quietly.

“I just hope she's listening now.”

The second bright spot in my week was when I ran into Brooke at the hospital. She was actually bringing a bouquet of flowers, but I could tell she was not happy to see me. It looked like she'd planned to just drop them off and go, but I decided to jump right in.

“Do you have a minute?” I asked.

“My mom's out in the car.”

“Well, I can walk out to the car with you.”

“That's okay,” she said quickly. “I have a minute.”

So we sat in the main lobby, and I began. “Look, I know this thing with the lawsuit turned into a real mess. And I'm pretty sure you regret faking a serious injury. But I wasn't exactly perfect
either. I said some pretty mean things, and I don't think that's how Jesus would act. So I just want to say I'm sorry, Brooke. And I hope we can put it behind us.”

She sat there staring at me with the blankest expression, and I was thinking she was about to say something really shallow and irritating. But instead she burst into tears.

“I'm so sorry,” she sobbed. “I'm sorry I pretended to be injured. And I'm sorry that Marissa has been hurt like this. And I know I'm not a good Christian. And I'm just really, really sorry. Please forgive me.”

To my surprise I actually hugged her. “I forgive you.”

Then we both stood, and she wiped her wet face with her hands. “I'm praying for Marissa. Although I'm sure she would question that since she must've thought I was a terrible person. But I really am praying.”

“I'll tell her that.”

“Is she conscious?”

“No. But I talk to her all the time. I'm hoping she can hear.”

Brooke nodded. “I hope so too.”

So in a way some good has come out of this sadness. But I just really, really want Marissa to be okay. And even as I write this, I'm afraid I don't have enough faith. Every time I see her, she looks exactly the same—like she's never going to get better. But then I think, why is she still here? Is God keeping her here for a reason? Mostly I try not to think about it too much. It's better to just pray.

It's been two weeks since Marissa and Eddie were in the wreck. Eddie is recovering at home and, according to Dominic, feeling pretty depressed and guilty. Marissa still hasn't regained consciousness, but the doctors are sounding a little more positive. They seem surprised that she's still here. Also, some of her injuries are healing. And Marissa's dad consulted with a neurosurgeon, and Marissa is now scheduled for surgery. So I'm feeling a smidgen of hope.

But today was a different kind of sad. Today I had to say goodbye to Kim. Because of the situation with Marissa, she's put it off, but now there's no time to spare, and she has to head off to college. I spent all morning helping her pack—actually cram—her stuff into the back of Uncle Allen's car. He's taking some days off from the paper so he can drive her to school.

“Are you sure you'll be okay on your own?” Kim asked me for about the tenth time as we were saying our final good-byes in the driveway.

I know she meant the situation with Marissa, because she and her dad have been worried that I'm taking it too hard, that I'm depressed. I don't think it's possible not to be sad, but I also think I'm dealing with it. I'm trying to trust God with the whole thing. So I put on a brave face and reminded Kim to pray about Marissa's neurosurgery next week.

“Really, I'm okay,” I assured her one last time. “I'll be perfectly fine.”

“Tell Marissa I'm praying for her,” Kim said as she hugged me. “And for you too, Maya. Be strong.”

“And we'll stay in touch,” I promised. “I'll e-mail you every day.”

“Same here.” Then she hugged me again. “You're like a sister to me. I can't even say how thankful I am that you're in our lives.” She stepped back and looked at me with teary eyes. “Look at me. Here I am telling you to be strong!”

“Have a good trip.” I waved and smiled as they pulled out. But as soon as the car was out of sight, I felt like crying. Still, I reminded myself that I need to be even more mature now. For my uncle's sake as much as for my own.

Last week Uncle Allen pretty much reiterated what he'd said to my dad, that I was more than welcome to remain in their home. And he said it was an offer he didn't make lightly and that he appreciated that I was mature for my age.

“I'm not concerned that you'll pull any crazy adolescent stunts,” he told me. “Not that I want you to feel pressured to be perfect. I know teens need to have some fun.” He smiled. “But your sensibilities remind me so much of Kim that I'm not worried.” He also said he considered me a part of the family, and that's something
I
don't take lightly.

But for however long I remain here, I so don't want to be a burden to my uncle. I want to stand on my own two feet. I want to do things right. All the upheaval of the past two weeks has helped me make some decisions. Most important, I have decided
to do my senior year at Harrison High. I know I don't have to do this. I have my GED. But I just think it's what I need right now.

Kim and Uncle Allen were both hugely relieved when I told them. They agreed that it was the right choice. My dad felt the same. I will still work on getting my emancipation—not to have a place of my own but simply to keep Shannon from trying to get me back if she wins her appeal and is released from prison. And it's scheduled for the end of September, so I need to get busy.

School started today. To my surprise, Brooke and Amanda asked to sit with me at lunch. Then Dominic joined us, along with Eddie, who is hobbling around on crutches and never smiles. I suppose we were a rather somber crowd. And I wondered what Marissa would think if she could see us. She was always such a cutup during lunch, so sarcastic and witty. She would put the spark into any conversation. Okay, sometimes it was a dark spark, but she would get people going.

“What's the latest on Marissa?” asked Amanda.

“She's been in neurosurgery this morning,” I said. “They're supposed to finish by one.”

“Everyone needs to pray for a real miracle,” Brooke said as she stuck a straw in her soda.

“Why don't we pray for Marissa right now?” Dominic suggested.

“Right here?” Amanda looked over her shoulder to where kids were pushing and joking in the lunch line.

“Yeah,” Eddie said in a gruff but loud voice. “Right here!”

Well, that surprised me, because I didn't think Eddie was even a Christian, but who knew? So we all bowed our heads and prayed. I overheard some jabs from kids passing by, teasing us for our public display of faith. But I don't think anyone at our table cared. We just kept praying—praying with enthusiasm, going around the table several times before we finished with a hearty “amen.” Then I opened my eyes to see a girl I barely remembered from last year. She made a snooty face and said, “What is this, the church kids club? Are you going to sing a hymn now?”

Without smiling, I looked directly into her eyes. “We were praying for a friend of ours, Marissa Phillips; you might remember her. She graduated last year. But she was nearly killed in a wreck and is having brain surgery today.” I paused for effect. “Maybe you'll want to pray for her too.”

The girl seemed slightly shocked, but she just nodded and quickly moved away. Then Dominic gave me a little thumbs-up, and Eddie smiled ever so slightly.

I went straight to the hospital after school, but when I went to Marissa's room in ICU, the bed was empty. Her surgery had to be done by now, and suddenly I felt very afraid. What if something went wrong? What if Marissa was—

“Are you looking for Marissa?” It was Carmen, the older nurse who's been so encouraging.

“Yes. Where is she? Is she okay?”

The nurse smiled. “The surgery went well. She was in recovery for several hours, but her condition was stable enough that she's been moved to the regular inpatient unit.”

“Is she conscious?” I asked hopefully.

Carmen shook her head. “No, not yet. But the surgery went well, so maybe…in time…” She told me Marissa's room number, and I went to the third floor and found her room. Mr. Phillips was just coming out.

“Oh, Maya.” He seemed relieved to see me.

“How is she?”

He sighed. “She seems the same…but they say the surgery went as well as possible.”

“Maybe it takes time.”

He nodded. “Do you want to visit her while I get something to eat?”

“Sure.”

“Her mother went back home about an hour after the surgery.”

“Oh…” I knew he hadn't been that pleased when Marissa's mother had shown up, and he was probably glad that she was gone now. I had one brief conversation with her, and I could tell she felt guilty. I didn't think she'd be here long.