180 Seconds

  “I knew you could do it!”

  I cross the small private room and lean over to hug her. Seeing how weak Steffi looks is hard to swallow, and I’m hesitant to hold her too tightly. However, she grabs me with more strength than I’d anticipated, and so I respond. It feels so wonderful to hold her after all these months, especially when I didn’t think I would ever again.

  She pats my back repeatedly until I sit in the chair by the bed. “Now, tell me everything. Tell me about you. And you and Esben.”

  She makes it hard not to smile, because her enthusiasm is so elevated, and it is so very Steffi to want to talk about me when she’s the one in crisis. “What do you want to know?”

  Steffi raises an eyebrow in the way that only she can, with a crazy high arch and leering eyes. “Has it happened?”

  “What?”

  “Have you slept with him?” She says this so loudly that I turn to see if anyone outside the room has heard. Jamie is trying not to laugh.

  “Well . . .”

  “I’m on limited time, kiddo. Spill.”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “And . . . it’s awesome. He’s awesome.”

  “Esben is as cool as I first thought, right?” she says happily. “I was right about him, wasn’t I?”

  “You were. Very, very right.”

  For over an hour, she makes me tell her everything that’s gone down. So, I update her about Esben and school and Simon. About Simon’s care packages, about what’s going on with Carmen, Kerry, Jason, and Danny. I tell her much about my new world that she hasn’t heard and that I wish she were a part of, could be a part of.

  I’m having a hard time keeping my breathing even. Something about having a seemingly routine conversation makes being here all the more frightening. I glance at Jamie, and she gives me a reassuring nod. I should just let this happen; that’s what she’s telling me.

  “Oh, the bracelet!” Steffi says. “Lemme see!” She grabs my hand and gasps. “It’s gorgeous. He did so good. He’s here, right? Where is he?” She looks over my shoulder. “I know I look like crap, but hello? Hospital. He won’t care, right? Also, you haven’t commented on my shirt. Simon’s doing, of course. Somehow he got this to me today.”

  I hadn’t noticed, but now I look down and smile. She’s wearing a red shirt with a Wonder Woman logo on the front. It’s perfect.

  “They let me change out of that freakin’ hideous hospital gown. Or hospice gown, if we’re being technical. Because that’s basically what this is. How depressing, right?”

  I don’t know how to answer her. How to do any of this. But Steffi keeps talking, so I’m given another moment to pull myself together.

  “So, really, where’s Esben? I want to see all the videos and pictures he took. Why hasn’t he posted more? I’ve been following everything online. Dude, that limo situation was insane! I can’t believe it. Any of it. The only reason I looked away from the Internet was to chow down. You’ll try In-N-Out tomorrow, right? Promise me.”

  “I promise.”

  “Where’s Esben?” she asks yet again. “I want to see more.”

  Her excitement makes me laugh. “I’ll get him.”

  “Yes!”

  It’s with caution and nerves that I walk to the door. “Esben? Steffi wants you to come in. To see what other pictures and video you have.”

  “She does?” He’s as taken aback as I am. “Okay. Yeah. Of course.”

  He follows me into the room, and I see Steffi’s eyes fixate on him. She’s silent now, waiting until he has pulled up a chair beside me. Steffi leans back against the mattress and looks at him. “Esben,” she says softly and reaches out.

  “Steffi.” He takes her hand.

  “It’s good to see you.” She’s quieter now, calmer. “Show me. Show me pictures from today. I want to see . . .” Steffi takes a few shallow breaths that alarm me. “. . . everything. And you have to post it all. This is my moment, right?” She cracks a smile.

  “Sure. Whatever you want.”

  Esben holds his phone up to her and swipes through photos and videos. She asks a hundred questions, and he answers them all. When he gets to the video of the flight attendant singing, Steffi suddenly reaches to her side, but for what, I’m not sure.

  “Steffi? What is it?” I ask.

  Jamie is at Steffi’s side in a flash. “She just needs some oxygen. That’s all. It’s okay.” She moves smoothly as she lifts an oxygen mask over Steffi’s mouth.

  My hand goes to Esben’s leg, and I dig my fingers in.

  Steffi holds up a finger, asking us to give her a minute. I nod and rest my hand on her shoulder, letting her know that she can take as much time as she needs. The nervous look she gives Jamie frightens me to the core, but I keep a calm expression. As though it’s normal for my best friend, my lifeline, to need help breathing.

  It only takes a matter of seconds, a few moments to inhale and exhale, and Steffi nods. She lifts the mask for a second. “Show me more.”

  Esben seems cautious when I say, “Show her the flight attendant. The singing.”

  “Yeah? Okay. You sure?”

  “Yes. She’ll love it.” Steffi and I both know that she’s dying. That it’s close. And this song and its haunting melody will not make her aware of anything she doesn’t know.

  Steffi puts the oxygen mask back over her mouth and watches. Halfway through, she holds out her arm. I take her hand. I won’t let go from this point on. Whatever high she’s been on, whatever adrenaline was amping her up, is gone.

  We are downhill from here.

  “‘Amazing Grace.’ I love . . . that song. Such a pretty voice.” Steffi’s words are barely audible behind her mask, but, still, I hear her. “All those nice people.”

  “Everyone cares about you,” I tell her.

  She turns her head, and I can see the smile around her eyes.

  “Get ready for this one,” I say with as much fun in my voice as I can. “You will never believe it. Trust me. Esben, show her what happened getting from O’Hare to Midway!”

  For a few minutes, Steffi watches, though her eyes are getting foggy. It’s subtle, so subtle, but I see it.

  “A motorcycle? You got on a motorcycle?” She lifts the mask to talk.

  “I know, right? So cool.” More false positive attitude. “It was insane.”

  “Allison handled herself much better than I did,” Esben adds.

  Steffi puts her other hand in his and takes a few deep breaths. Then she lowers the mask and speaks to him. “Esben?”

  “Yes?”

  “You love her?” she asks.

  Esben smiles reassuringly. “I do.”

  “I knew that. But it’s good to hear. Good.” She breathes again for a time. “Thank you. Thank you. It . . . it . . . makes this easier. Allison?” she whispers.

  “Yes, honey, what?”

  “It hurts. God save the queen, it hurts.” She’d smile if she could, but she can’t.

  “God save the queen,” I agree. “God save the queen.”

  “I’m, uh . . .” She shuts her eyes for a second. “I’m ready for this to be over. I’m really ready.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m sorry. For what I did.”

  “There’s no sorry here, only love.”

  She nods.

  I don’t know how to tell her what I have to. But it’s time. “There are a few other people here to see you,” I say gently.

  Slowly, she turns her head, but doesn’t say anything.

  “Esben? Can you . . . ?” I can’t take my eyes from Steff, and I watch him kiss Steffi on the cheek.

  He holds his sweet kiss for so long that I know it’s good-bye. And his good-bye is very important, because Steffi knows my connection to him and what he’s done to get me here. I feel extraordinary pain lingering in my heart, though I block it out. I’ll let it hurt later.

  Blind now, because I cannot see through my bleary eyes, I hear the door swing open and shut, an
d then there are footsteps, and I know Cal and Joan have moved into the room.

  “These are people who love you,” I say. I blink and try to clear my vision. “Please don’t be upset with me.”

  A wash of emotion rushes over her pale face, and she lifts a hand to cover her eyes.

  “They love you,” I say. “It’s all okay. They love you. They want to be here for you.”

  Steffi starts to panic and flounders for me, yanking her oxygen away. “They’re mad.” She begins to cry. “They’re mad, aren’t they?”

  “No, no, no.” I replace her mask. “Listen to me. You listen to me very clearly. No. They love you. You are their daughter. They are your parents. And they are here.”

  Her eyes water so much that my heart further shreds. But she nods, and behind her tears, I can see tremendous relief. I can see peace.

  “Steffi?” Joan says from the other side of the bed.

  “You are our joy.” Cal’s voice is steady, steadier than it should be.

  Steffi turns her head.

  Nobody moves, but then, with clear effort, she inches an arm their way. Both sit and lean against the bed so that they are as close to her as possible.

  Joan smiles. “We love you, do you hear me? We love you.”

  Steffi starts to protest and gropes for something by the bed. Jamie again gets to her and hands her something.

  “It’s a morphine drip,” Jamie explains to us quietly. “Steffi can hit it when she needs pain relief.”

  When Steffi hits that button three times, it’s impossible to watch and impossible for my heart and my soul not to feel savagely ripped apart.

  “I’m sorry for what I did,” Steffi says with a rasp.

  “No.” Cal shakes his head. “No, you did nothing wrong. No apologies.”

  It takes a bit, but Steffi nods.

  Joan is upset, but she hides it well. “I know that you’re apologizing in your head. Don’t, okay? We are all together now, and that’s what matters. We are your mom and dad, as we have always been. You’ve never been without us, and you never will be. It’s very simple.”

  Steffi’s smile is as broad as she can make it right now, and Cal and Joan both bend over to hold her. It’s only then that I notice the IV in her arm, presumably for the morphine.

  I feel as though I should maybe step out of the room and give them some time, but I know there might not be much, and I can’t stand to leave. Plus, Steffi’s hold on my hand, while weak, is steadfast. So, I stay.

  For a long time, we all just sit with her. Later, she brushes away the oxygen mask.

  “Joan? Remember the . . . curtains you put up for me?” It clearly takes effort for her to say even this. “Sheers. White. With stars.”

  Joan touches Steffi’s face. “I do remember.”

  “I loved those. You did something . . . so nice. For me.” Steffi’s face doesn’t change, but we all know that she’s hitting upon a good memory. “Very pretty.”

  “I’m glad you liked those.” Joan sounds so motherly that it makes my heart ache. “We have pictures of you all over the house. And your room is still your room. We haven’t touched it.”

  “So sorry . . .” Steffi is getting weaker. “So sorry I wasn’t better. Smart enough to know . . .” She looks agitated, as much as she can now. “I should have said yes. Chosen you.”

  “No.” Cal’s voice conveys only intense sincerity and gentleness. “No. You did what you could. You made the choice that you felt was right at the time, and no one could ever fault you for that. We get why you couldn’t trust us. Joan and I get it.” He rubs a finger under his eyes. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is that we are a family. Okay?” He forces a smile. “Do you hear that we adore you? That you’re our daughter? Because that’s the truth.”

  A new level of comprehension and acceptance sweeps over her. I can see it. I can see that Steffi takes in their love.

  “Thank . . . you.” Steffi shifts a bit, clearly in pain. “I love you both, too. I do.” She hits the morphine button.

  When she settles and looks my way, I find myself shifting to another emotional state, to a new kind of peace, to a harbor where there is nothing but the two of us. The sterile, monotone, scary hospital room recedes into nothingness.

  It’s coming.

  I crawl into her bed, laying my body next to hers. She has always held me, but tonight, I hold her.

  “Allison . . .”

  “It’s okay, Steffi. It’s okay.”

  “Before I forget . . . there are some things I have to tell you. Final things.”

  Inside, I scream. I rail against this. But I won’t let her hear that. “Anything.”

  “My ashes. I don’t want . . .” She struggles for breath. “I asked for ashes. But I don’t want to be in some gross urn. We clear? You scatter my ashes in the ocean.”

  “I’ll do anything you want.” Emotionless, I’m about the practical now. I have to be. “California or anywhere?” I touch her hair. “Simon and I are going to the Cape or the Vineyard this summer. Would you want that?”

  There’s a long pause. “The Vineyard. That’s perfect.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

  “And—”

  “And Cal and Joan will come with us, yes,” I say for her. “Yes.”

  “Absolutely,” Cal says.

  She squeezes my hand lightly. “Esben.”

  “Him, too,” I confirm.

  “Not . . . sad. Okay?” Steffi looks at me with hope.

  “No, we won’t be sad that day, my beautiful girl,” Joan answers when I cannot. “We will celebrate how much joy you brought us all. It will be a day of celebration, not of tears.”

  Steffi looks peaceful after those words, and her eyes grow heavy. “After this. When I’m gone. You’ll be okay, though, right?”

  “I will,” I promise her. “Do not worry about me. Please don’t. I will miss you forever, but I will get through this. You told me to be brave, and I can do that.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yes.” I hate lying to her, but I have to. “The only thing that matters right now is that I love you. And that you trust that I am strong. It’s time for you to trust that, okay? Steffi, you are my heart, and I will always love you. To the goodnight moon and back. Always and forever.”

  She breathes through the mask for a while. “I’m so tired . . . Allison? I just want to sleep for a little,” she says behind the flow of oxygen. “Do you mind?”

  “You sleep as long as you want.”

  Slowly, she looks at Cal and Joan and then back to me. “You’ll be here when I wake up? I’m so sorry . . . I just need a little nap.”

  “We will be here when you wake up.” Because I have to be a rock right now, I do not cry when I say this. “We will be here. So, you sleep, Steffi. Just sleep. And have beautiful, wondrous dreams.”

  Steffi smiles a little, then taps her mask, and I lift it. “My mom and dad came,” she says in a whisper.

  “They did,” I agree.

  My frame is pressed against hers, and I know what it means that Steffi’s nurses don’t move me from my position. Cal and Joan are both bent over the bed, their love a blanket, flowing smoothly over her, around her.

  Steffi is so devastatingly weak now. “Love you . . . moon and back.”

  She sleeps, half waking too many times. But mostly she is unaware over the next hours that pass, and it’s all that I could ask for. I’d hate for her to be cognizant. She would hate to be cognizant. So, Cal, Joan, and I just stay with her. That’s all we can do.

  When she can’t, I adjust her oxygen mask.

  When she can’t, I hit her morphine drip as much as is allowed.

  When she can’t, I talk and tell her she doesn’t have to. I tell her that I know and feel it all. And that she should, too. That it’s okay not to talk anymore. That she is my forever friend. That she is Cal and Joan’s forever daughter.

  For a time, she just sleeps and breathes. And then, finally, she sleeps and do
esn’t wake again.

  I’m glad that she misses the end. That she’s not awake for the moments before her death.

  And when the monitor sounds, when her breathing stops, Joan and Cal and I are all holding her.

  She does not leave this world alone.

  She leaves this world whole.

  CHAPTER 30

  THE WORLD HAS CHANGED

  It’s just after eight in the evening when I wake in a hotel room, disoriented and numb. I’ve been in a hard, dreamless sleep, and it takes me a few minutes to remember where I am and what has happened.

  I should be crying, feeling something. But I am utterly emptied. It’s some warped form of bliss to find myself in this state. It must be misguided and delusional, I know, but it’s a blessing.

  Esben is in a small armchair, looking weary as he scrolls through his phone. He glances up when I throw back the sheets and sit up in bed. “Hey. How are you doing?” He comes to sit beside me. “Dumb question, sorry.”

  “No, it’s fine.” I rub my eyes. “I’m going to take a shower. Are you hungry? I’m starving. We should eat.”

  “Sure.” He tries to touch my leg, but I move away. “Whatever you want.”

  “We’re supposed to go to In-N-Out Burger. I promised her,” I say diligently.

  “Okay. Then that’s what we’ll do.”

  I plod to the bathroom and shut the door. I strip down and look at the pile of clothing I’ve left on the floor, resolving to burn it when I get home. My clothes and my body smell like death, and I didn’t bring anything else to wear. It’s only crazy determination that makes me stand up straight and look in the mirror. I want some idea of what I look like, a baseline from which I must rise. My reflection is shocking. I don’t look like me, and not just because of my puffy eyes and matted hair. I just don’t look like me. Maybe I won’t ever again. Not after last night.

  The tile in the shower stall seems off, the water that sprays over me feels too sharp, and the smell of the shampoo and soap makes me want to gag. Everything is wrong. Everything, I know, will always be wrong.

  This fact is not alarming to me, though. It’s just a fact. Cut and dry. So, when I finish my shower and dress in my tainted clothing, I do so calmly.