The End of Forever (9 page)

Erin let herself into her house and shivered. The silence was eerie. No lamps were lit, and the rooms were dark and chilly. She found a note from her dad saying he couldn’t sleep and had gone to the library, and that he’d be home by ten to get ready to go to the hospital.

Erin deposited her things in her room, took a hot shower, washed her hair, and began to blow-dry it. She’d never felt so drained and sapped in her life, not even after a grueling dance performance. She stared at the mirror thoughtfully. She hadn’t thought about dancing in days. There’d been a time when that was all she thought about. Funny how the focus of your life can shift so drastically.

Her fine blond hair danced about her head as the dryer worked. Terpsicord, Ms. Thornton, and Wolf-trap seemed light-years away. She’d never even told Amy about Wolftrap. She’d been upset with her and
had perversely held back the news. Yet Erin knew that if she
had
said something, Amy’s response would have been totally excited and encouraging.

A lump rose in Erin’s throat. There were so many things she wanted to say to her sister, so many times she’d growled at her or teased her that she wanted to take back. If only Amy would wake up, Erin swore she’d never be mean to her again.

Listlessly Erin finished dressing and wandered to the living room. She put on a cassette of Amy’s favorite rock group and pulled out the stack of family photo albums. Her mother had kept them up-to-date, and Erin started with the one that featured Amy’s birth. She’d just gotten past the photos of an infant Amy in the hospital nursery when the doorbell rang. Travis stood on the doorstep. She brought him into the living room and plopped onto the floor.

“I was just going through some old pictures,” she explained.

He tossed the stuffed bear he was carrying onto the sofa and sat down beside her. “Amy?” he asked, pointing to a dark-haired toddler, holding two fistfuls of birthday cake.

“She was a terror,” Erin said with a wistful smile.

“Is this you?” He indicated one of a six-year-old Erin dressed in a tutu with her arms poised over her head.

She made a face at her roly-poly image. “That was taken before my very first recital. Look at all that baby fat.”

“There’s no baby fat on you now,” Travis said, and
his observation made her stomach feel fluttery. He was sitting so close that she caught his fresh, clean scent.

They flipped through the albums and watched the years parade past in a collection of color photos. Amy in her playpen. Erin on her first tricycle. Amy with her front teeth missing and clutching her school lunch box. Erin wearing a crown as May Day queen in the fifth grade.

“When was this one taken?” Travis asked.

Erin gazed at a blowup of one of her fathers favorite photographs. Erin and Amy were running barefoot through a grassy field full of dandelions, their long hair streaming behind them, their mouths wide with laughter.

“I still remember that day,” Erin said. “I was five and Amy had just turned four. I thought that field was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, that it was a place where a fairy princess lived. And all Amy wanted to do was run around and make the seeds fly off the weeds. I started to cry and asked Dad to make Amy stop, but of course she didn’t, and I eventually got into the game too. We chased those seeds for over an hour. I can still see them floating away in the sky.”

They stared at the photo in silence until a wave of melancholia engulfed her and she was afraid she might start crying. She looked at Travis, and his expression was blank. She wondered what he was thinking, and then she saw the cuddly stuffed bear on the sofa. “Is that for Amy?”

Travis followed her line of vision. “Yeah. She saw
it at the mall and made a big fuss about how cute it was. So I bought it for her.”

“I asked the nurses if it was all right to bring some of her things from home for her room, and they said I could. Why don’t you just bring the bear up to her tomorrow?”

Travis studied the bear for a long moment before speaking. “I’m not going back up there, Erin.”

“What?”

“Not until Amy’s sitting up in her bed and talking.”

“But it may help her subconsciously knowing that you’re in the room with her.”

He looked at Erin as if she were crazy. “Erin, she doesn’t know when
anyone’s
in the room with her.”

Erin snapped, “How do you know? What makes you an authority?”

“Take it easy,” Travis said with a placating tone. “I’ll keep calling for reports, and you can call me too. But I can’t go back inside that room when she’s so—you know—so out of it.”

“She’s unconscious. She’ll wake up.”

“She’s in a coma. It’s different.”

By now they were both on their feet amid the jumble of photo albums. “It’s just a deep sleep, that’s all. It’s a way for her brain to recover from being so banged around.”

“Erin, face reality. She can’t even
breathe
by herself.”

Erin wanted to scream at him, but just then her father came home. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

Erin stood facing Travis, her heart pounding, her fists balled. “Travis was just leaving,” she said tersely.

Travis mumbled apologetic words to Erin and her dad and retreated out the door. She longed to slam it hard against his back.

“What was
that
all about?” Mr. Bennett asked when she bent and started piling the albums.

“Nothing. He’s just so negative about Amy’s condition, and I got mad. He says he’s not even going up to see her again until she comes out of the coma.”

Mr. Bennett knelt down next to her and held her by the shoulders. “Don’t be so upset about it, honey.”

Erin felt tears well up in her eyes. “But she likes him so much, and he acts like he doesn’t even care!”

“You can’t expect everyone to handle this thing in the same way, Erin. Grief doesn’t affect us all alike.”

“Grief?” She said the word incredulously. “Grief is when you cry. Travis isn’t crying. I guess he’s too macho for tears.”

“In other words, real men don’t cry?”

She held her spine stiff and put a chill in her voice. “Real men stick by the people they say they care about. They don’t have to bawl and blubber, but they
do
have to keep their promises. And Travis Sinclair told me he really liked Amy. Now he’s not even going to go see her in the hospital.”

She thought of all the fantasies she’d had about him, of how much she’d longed to have him as a boyfriend, and felt even more betrayed. “He’s acting like a creep, Daddy. A genuine creep!”

“Dont judge him too harshly,” Mr. Bennett said. “There’s more to grieving than crying. And there’s more to caring than hovering over someone’s bedside.”

The lamplight glowed on the side of his face, and for the first time Erin noticed the bags under his eyes and lines around his mouth. He had a whole night ahead of him to spend in the hospital, and here she was taking out her anger at Travis on her father. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get so upset.”

Mr. Bennett smiled pensively. “That’s okay, honey, we’re all on edge these days.” He picked up an album and leafed through the plastic-covered pages. “I remember when she was just learning to talk, and your mom and I would ask, ‘What does your sister want, Erin?’ And you’d tell us, and sure enough, that’s what it was. You two always seemed to understand each other. I think underneath you’re very much alike, even though on the outside you have different styles.”

He rose, crossed to the buffet, and rummaged through the junk drawer. “I got the birthday pictures back a week ago and tossed them in here for your
mother to put in the album.” He withdrew the packet and brought it over to Erin. “They turned out good, huh?”

Erin sorted through them—Amy grinning from behind her birthday cake, Amy holding up the car keys and special key chain Erin had given her. A lump wedged in Erin’s throat. Could it have been only a few weeks ago that they were all so happy and carefree? “Yeah, Dad, they’re super.” She placed them carefully inside the back cover of an album.

“Maybe when this is all over, you mom will put them in order,” he said. “Maybe this will be the birthday we remember most of all.”

“Amy will wake up, won’t she, Dad?” Erin hadn’t wanted to ask the question but couldn’t help herself. Her conversation with her mother earlier still weighed on her mind.

“The doctors aren’t making any promises.”

“If she doesn’t, will we have to put her in a nursing home?” The idea made Erin shiver.

“What do you suppose Amy would want?”

“She’d want to come home.”

“How would we care for her?”

“We could.” Erin jutted her chin stubbornly. “Between the three of us, we could take care of her.”

Mr. Bennett eased onto the sofa. He picked up the bear and stroked its fur. “The doctor asked us about putting a ‘Do not resuscitate’ order on Amy’s chart this morning.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning that should her heart stop suddenly, they wouldn’t do anything to start it beating again.”

Erin stared at him blankly as his words sunk in. The house was so silent that she heard the ticking of the hall clock. “You mean, let her die?”

Mr. Bennett kept studying the teddy bear. “She’s going to have massive brain damage, Erin. She’ll never be normal.”

“But they can’t just let her
die.
Please, Daddy, don’t let them do that. They have to start her heart.”

He turned anguished eyes on her. “Honey, Erin. Take it easy … it’s all right. Her heart’s very strong right now, so don’t worry.”

Erin had gone cold all over. She dug her nails into her palms, hoping the instant pain would keep her from screaming. “How could her doctors suggest such a thing? Aren’t they supposed to do everything to keep a person alive?”

Mr. Bennett let out a deep, weary sigh and rubbed his hand over his forehead. “They are, Erin. But lately I’ve wondered, What’s the distinction between prolonging life and postponing death? Can’t you see the difference between the two?”

“What about, ‘Thou shall not kill’?” Erin grabbed at the commandment as if it were a lifeline. “If they let her die, it’s the same as killing her.”

“But if they didn’t have the machines in the first place, wouldn’t Amy have died already? There’s a saying that everything under the sun has a season, that there’s ‘a time to live and a time to die.’ What about
Amy’s time to die, Erin? What right does medicine have to tamper this way with her season?”

Erin was afraid she was going to be sick. Her father’s questions were frightening her. She had never thought about such things before, and she couldn’t think about them now. Especially about Amy. “But you said her heart’s fine, didn’t you?”

“Yes, honey, she’s young and strong. They were only asking what we’d want done should she suddenly die, that’s all. We live in a world where technology gives us options. They can restart her heart”—he paused and cleared his throat—“or they can let her go.”

Erin pressed her lips together. “Well, I want them to start her heart again if it should stop. So that’s my choice. What do you and Mom want to do?”

“The same thing.”

Erin sagged and let out her breath. “I guess it’s real complicated, isn’t it?”

“It’s very complicated. If Amy never comes out of her coma, we’re probably dooming her to a life in an institution.”

“But she may wake up,” Erin countered, her voice quavering. “The machines are helping her live long enough for her brain to get better. That’s the way I see it.”

Mr. Bennett stroked the teddy bear’s tummy. Erin wanted to throw herself in her father’s arms, but she was too old for that. Too old to cry like a baby. “Thanks for talking to me, Dad. I’m glad you told me what the doctors asked.”

“Were a family, Erin. Your wishes count too.” He stood, smoothed his rumpled shirt, and plunked the stuffed bear on the couch. He said, “I’d better get ready and get down to the hospital so your mother can come home and get some sleep.”

“Sure.” Erin began to gather the photo albums, spread out in a jumble around her. “Im going to clean up here and go to bed.” He left the room, and Erin shut each book, being very careful not to look at any more pictures.

When she was finished, she picked up the teddy bear and hugged it to her breasts. It smelled new but also carried the sweet, pungent aroma of her father’s pipe tobacco. She cuddled it tenderly and rocked back and forth on her knees until she heard her father leave for the hospital.

By Wednesday Erin had settled into a routine of relieving her mother midmorning and staying until one of her parents relieved her in the early evening. The monotony of the day was broken by Beth, who came straight from school every afternoon.

“I’m glad Easter break starts tomorrow,” Beth told Erin as she nibbled on a handful of potato chips.

“Me too,” Erin said, thinking of the plans shed made a month before with Shara to go to the beach and stare at the college guys down from the northern campuses. There’d be no sun-filled vacation for her now.

She and Beth started a game of Monopoly. “How’s your sister today?”

“The CAT they just did didn’t show any more swelling, so at least they won’t have to operate.”