“Gram, I’m seriously gonna puke,” he said, sitting back and holding both hands over his stomach.
“It’s a holiday, Daniel. You’re supposed to stuff yourself with good food on a holiday.”
Danny laughed, tossing his napkin onto the table. “I’ve never met a Sicilian woman so enamored with Saint Patrick’s Day. Aren’t you supposed to be wandering around the house mumbling something about ‘those damn Irish’?”
“Oh hush,” she said, taking her seat on the other side of the table. “Besides, it’s a holiday that involves cooking large amounts of food. That’s good enough for me.”
“You know, you’re only supposed to cook large amounts of food when you have a large amount of people who are going to eat it. This,” he said, gesturing to the spread on the table, “was a bit of an overshoot for two people, don’t you think?”
Gram shrugged. “I don’t know how to cook for only two people.”
Danny burst out laughing as he stood, grabbing his plate and hers. “This is true. I should be morbidly obese by now.”
Gram chuckled as he rinsed off their plates before putting them in the dishwasher, and then he did the same with the pans on the stove before he grabbed a few plastic containers and brought them back to the table so Gram could start packing up the leftovers.
“Here,” he said, handing one to Gram before he started to fill the other. “Do you want to save the cabbage, or will that go bad?”
“Daniel, we need to talk about something.”
“About what?” he said, piling the slices of corned beef into the container.
Gram placed her empty tupperware on the table. “Can you sit down first?”
Danny froze with his hand on the platter before he lifted his eyes to hers. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she stated simply.
He stood there for a few seconds, studying her expression, trying to assess her honesty.
She gestured to his chair. “Sit, please.”
Danny slid the fork back onto the platter before he walked back to his chair and sat down, shifting it so that he was facing her fully. He had only seen her look this way a handful of times, but they were all associated with bad memories.
It wasn’t anger or sadness that filled her eyes. Instead, it looked more like resignation. Or resolution.
Or both.
She smiled gently as she turned to face him.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and…it’s time,” she said.
“Time for what?”
Gram reached across the table and laid her open hand in front of Danny; instinctively, he brought his hand up from his lap and took it in his own.
She gave it a gentle squeeze before she said, “It’s time to let Bryan go.”
Her words had the effect of a battering ram to his stomach; first the stealing of his breath, followed by the immediate onset of panic, and then finally the staggering pain.
They were so unanticipated that Danny couldn’t even open his mouth to attempt a response. In some twisted way, there had always been comfort in the fact that Gram hadn’t given up. Danny knew Bryan wasn’t coming back, but the fact that she still believed…it made it seem like perhaps—in some far-off, remote world—there was the tiniest possibility it could happen.
He didn’t want her to give up. He needed her to believe, even when he couldn’t.
“It’s been long enough, Daniel. He’s tired. I know he’s so tired.”
Danny’s stomach was churning, and he swallowed repeatedly, trying to keep his dinner down.
No. Don’t give up on him.
“There’s a thin line between being hopeful and being selfish, and I think I crossed it a long time ago. I just hope he’ll forgive me for making him stay so long.”
“Gram,” Danny choked out, but his voice sounded strange, like it was coming from some place far away and not his own mouth. “Doctors aren’t always right. Maybe—”
She shook her head. “I know my Bryan. He would have come back to us if he could have. He would have fought and fought and fought. But he’s tired, love. It’s time for him to rest.”
Danny removed his hand from hers and ran it up through his hair before shaking his head. “We don’t have to decide this now.”
“Yes, we do,” she said softly.
“Why?” Danny snapped, slamming his hand down on the table.
Gram didn’t even flinch. Instead, her shoulders softened as her eyes met his. “Because I want you to be able to say your good-byes…before you go.”
The chair screeched abruptly as he stood from the table and walked through the kitchen. With a quick jerk of his arm, he swiped his keys off the half wall and strode out the front door, slamming it closed behind him.
Danny sat in the back seat of Leah’s car, staring at the buildings as they blurred past the window. Every so often he’d glance at the rearview mirror, watching the reflection of her eyes until they flicked up and found his. Whenever it happened, he’d feel his pulse slow in his veins, the nauseous swell in his stomach temporarily subside. Every time. As if she were somehow siphoning all of his anxiety, all of his suffering, with merely a look.
He looked over to where Gram sat in the passenger seat, her eyes trained on her purse, which sat primly in her lap. She’d been quiet all morning, lost in some faraway place, so that Danny found himself having to say something two or three times before she heard him.
After Danny had stormed out on her that night, he drove around aimlessly for two hours before he eventually ended up at Leah’s apartment. Gram had said she was doing it because she wanted Danny to have a chance to say good-bye.
But all Danny heard was that she was giving up on Bryan because of him.
It took Leah hours to convince him otherwise. But she was patient, and she was gentle. She let him rant. She let him yell. She let him pace. And she let him fall apart.
And then she lay with him until three o’clock in the morning, despite having to get up for work the next day, talking him off the ledge and helping him understand what it was really about.
Helping him see that Gram was right.
She offered to drive them to the hospital when it happened, knowing how difficult it would be for either one of them to make the drive back.
He never would have asked her to do something like that—to subject her to something as morbid as saying good-bye to someone who had spent the last year of his life in the ICU. She’d had enough of hospitals and good-byes. But he was selfish enough in that moment to accept the offer. And as they pulled into the parking lot of the hospital and he caught her eyes in the mirror again, he forgave himself for the decision.
Because there was no way he would have been able to do this without her.
They walked up to the building in silence, Leah a step behind Gram and Danny as he traversed the corridors with ease, bringing them to the elevators that would take them up to the ICU. He’d done this so many times, his body could complete the task without the help of his mind.
But this time it felt foreign.
Every sound was amplified. The clicking of shoes on the linoleum. The squeak of wheels as machinery and beds were moved from place to place. The chatter of people. The delicate beeping that meant someone was surviving.
He wanted to plug his ears.
Gram had gone to the hospital earlier that week to complete all the paperwork, which meant the second the elevator doors opened, there was nothing left to do but go through with it.
There was no time to buy. No excuses to use. No reason to delay.
It felt like the walls of the elevator were closing in, and Danny reached out and put his hand on the wall to his left, pushing his weight into it, trying to keep it at bay.
He felt a hand on his back then, the feminine fingers splayed out as she applied gentle pressure, and he closed his eyes, concentrating on the feel of it until his arm finally went slack and fell from the wall. A few seconds later, the doors dinged open, and she kept her hand on his
back, grounding him as they approached the nurses’ station.
When the woman behind the front desk saw them approaching, she stood and smiled gently at Gram.
“Mrs. Giordano. If you’ll have a seat right over there, I’ll have Dr. Racine paged for you.”
Gram nodded but didn’t move; she seemed frozen in place, and in that moment, something in Danny’s chest shifted slightly, just enough to remind him that he wasn’t the only one suffering.
“Come on, Gram,” he said softly, wrapping his arm around her and walking them over to the seating area. He felt Leah’s hand slip from his back, and a jolt of panic went through him, but he concentrated instead on the feel of Gram beneath his arm, thin and frail and trembling.
You’re not the only one. Don’t leave her alone in this.
They sat in two of the chairs, and Leah stood a few feet away, her arms folded over her chest and her eyes scanning the area. He could see she was trying to hold it together, and he felt the shift in his chest again.
He needed to be present now. He needed to shoulder this. For both of them. Because he’d be damned if he had to watch the women he loved take on any more of his burden.
A woman approached them then, dressed in lavender scrubs. She had one of those friendly faces that made Danny feel like he’d met her a thousand times, even though he’d never seen her before today.
“Hello. My name’s Amanda. I’ll be with Dr. Racine today.”
“Hello,” Danny managed softly.
“I know this isn’t easy,” she said. Her voice was like aloe on a sunburn, and for a moment, Danny found himself wondering if that was something they taught in nursing school. “Anything you need from us, please let us know. We’d like to support you in any way we can.”
Danny wet his lips as he looked down. “Thank you.”
“I just wanted to take a minute to walk you through the process so you know what to expect once we go inside. Is it okay if we do that now?”
Danny nodded, rubbing his hand up and down Gram’s arm. She was completely stoic, resting her head on his shoulder as she stared straight ahead.
“Okay. When you’re ready, the doctor will remove his breathing tube, and then I’ll turn off his epinephrine drip. After that, his blood pressure will drop, and his breathing will begin to taper off.”
He closed his eyes, biting the inside of his bottom lip until he tasted blood.
“We’ll be monitoring his vitals back at the nurses’ station. You can stay with him as long as you like.”
Danny cleared his throat before he lifted his eyes. “Will it hurt?” he managed.
“No. If Dr. Racine thinks it will take a while for him to pass, he’ll order some medication to make him comfortable. He won’t feel any pain.”
Although Gram’s mask-like expression hadn’t changed, Danny tightened his arm around her as he ran his hand over his eyes.
“What do you mean by a while? How long will it take?”
“We won’t know what we’re looking at until we see how his vitals respond without assistance. It could be a few minutes, or a few hours. In some cases, it could be a few days.”
Danny saw Leah close her eyes before turning away.
I can’t. I can’t do this. I can’t.
“Do you have any other questions?” the nurse asked gently, placing her hand on Danny’s shoulder.
He kept his eyes trained on the floor as he shook his head.
“If you do, or if you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask us.”
“Thanks,” Danny said hoarsely, looking down at Gram. Her glassy eyes were still fixed on some far-off point.
“Let us know when you’re ready,” she said before she stood, placing her hand on top of Gram’s before she continued on to the nurses’ station.
“Gram,” Danny said, and she blinked a few times before turning her head to look up at him. “Do you understand everything the nurse just said?”
After a few seconds, she nodded.
“Okay,” he said, rubbing his hand over her arm. “Okay…you let me know when you’re ready.”
Gram took a deep breath before she said, “I need to use the powder room.”
“Alright,” he said, moving to help her up, and when he took a step with her, she shook her head.
“I’d like to go alone.”
Danny gradually released his hold on her, making sure she was steady on her feet. “Are you sure?”
She nodded, giving his hand a squeeze before she let go and started down the hall, and he kept his eyes on her until she turned the corner and was out of sight.
Danny lowered himself into the chair behind him, dropping his forehead to his clasped hands. And then Leah was standing in front of him, resting her hand on the back of his head.
Without lifting his head, he reached forward, wrapping his arms around her hips and pulling her to stand in between his legs before he buried his face in her abdomen.
“This is…” he whispered.
“I know,” she murmured, running her fingers through his hair before she leaned down and pressed her lips to his head, leaving them there as she added, “But he’ll never be gone, Danny. Because you still love him. And he’ll always exist through you because of that. They leave, baby, but they’re never gone.”
She straightened, and he lifted his head, resting his chin on her stomach as he stared up at her. She smiled a watery smile as she ran her fingers through his hair again. “You’re doing the right thing,” she whispered.
He nodded before pressing his face into her stomach again, and she stood there, caressing his hair until Gram returned from the bathroom.
“I’m ready,” she said softly, and Leah stepped back, allowing him to stand.
“Alright,” he said, running his hand over his eyes. “Let me just…I’ll…”
“I’ll go get them,” Leah interjected. “Stay here with her.”
He exhaled as Leah turned toward the nurses’ station, thankful for her offer; he didn’t think he’d be able to speak to anyone right now. He wasn’t even sure how he was still standing.
Gram came over and took his hand, holding it gently as they stood waiting for Leah to return.
A few minutes later, Dr. Racine turned the corner with the nurse named Amanda from earlier. He approached them and held out his hand, shaking Danny’s as he said something Danny didn’t hear. Instead, his eyes were on Leah where she stood a few feet away, her watery eyes pinned on him.
“I love you,” she mouthed.
“If you’ll follow me,” Dr. Racine said, pulling his attention from Leah, and Danny blinked quickly before he nodded.
The doctor and nurse walked a few steps ahead as he and Gram followed them into Bryan’s room.
This was usually the part where Danny could exhale; no matter how many times he walked through the ICU, it always unsettled him. Solemn faces. Voices barely above hushed whispers. No flowers. No balloons. Everything sterile. Angular. Cold. Machines beeping in a repetitive chorus of hope, or trilling in warning. Faces worn from vigils that had lasted days or weeks, or worse, the faces streaked with the tears of a vigil that had ended.
But then he’d get inside Bryan’s room, the door would close behind him, and he’d exhale. He’d pull up a chair and sit next to the bed, and he’d talk to his best friend as if they were sitting on the wall outside the shop having lunch. He’d tell him about his life, about work, about the guys. He’d tell him about the weather, about movies he’d seen. And most recently, he’d tell him about Leah.
It was a little piece of normal inside a cyclone of sorrow.
But today, as the door closed behind him, he didn’t exhale. He didn’t pull up a chair. He didn’t smile or talk or share.
He didn’t move at all.
Gram released his hand as Amanda guided her to the other side of the room, pulling up a chair for her to sit by Bryan’s bedside. Danny was still rooted to the floor as the doctor looked over the readouts on Bryan’s machines and the nur
se helped Gram get comfortable in her chair. She said something to her that Danny couldn’t hear, and then Gram pressed her lips together before she nodded.
“Okay,” Amanda said, placing her hand on Gram’s shoulder before she turned to Dr. Racine, looking at him meaningfully.
Danny watched as he approached the side of the bed and took hold of the tube in Bryan’s mouth. When he stepped back a few seconds later, there was a small plastic cylinder still attached to Bryan’s lip by some medical tape, but the long, serpentine tube—the one Danny knew was sending life-giving oxygen into his lungs—was gone.
His eyes were drawn to Amanda on other side of the bed as she reached up and clicked a switch on the machine above Bryan’s head.
The drip. The thing that kept his blood pumping through his body.
Gone.
Something like panic fluttered in his chest, making it hard to breathe, and his eyes flew to Gram; she was sitting in the chair on the opposite side of the bed, smiling softly as she stroked her hand up and down Bryan’s arm.
He thought he’d made his peace with this. He’d known for a year now that Bryan wasn’t coming back. She was the one who had hoped. She was the one who had believed, against all odds, that one morning he would open his eyes. Danny had always known it was a pipe dream. He’d said his good-byes long before this.
So then why was this so hard?
Gram looked so calm—peaceful, even—and he felt like he was about to lose it. Like he wanted to pound his fists against the nearest object and scream until his throat was raw and bloody and his body collapsed in on itself.
The doctor slid a chair up to Bryan’s bedside opposite Gram, nodding at Danny before he walked to the other side of the room to consult with the nurse.
Danny walked the few steps over to the chair and sank down into it, pressing his hands into the tops of his thighs to try and stop them from trembling.
He stared at Bryan’s face, trying to make him appear. Trying to animate it. Trying to remember his mannerisms. His facial expressions. His laugh.
When Danny wasn’t with him, it was always so hard to do. He could conjure images, but the details were hazy, like looking at a picture on the bottom of a pool.