My mother had loved us unconditionally, of that I had no doubt, but it wasn’t because she said it often. It was because I felt it everywhere, all the time.
Lauren was like that, too. Her love was wrapped in every glance, every movement, every touch. Some were loud and insistent, and others were barely a whisper, but each one burrowed inside me, making me whole. She said it when the moment felt right, and though I wanted her saying it all day, every day, I wasn’t ready to reciprocate.
The place where she tore away from me in Shannon’s kitchen still stung, and regardless of how much I wanted to tell her I loved her, we needed to find our footing first. It wasn’t easy picking up where we left off, and given the state of affairs with Angus, we hadn’t had much time to talk through the important pieces.
But talking—real, clothed conversations—had never been our strength, and we communicated most effectively through touch.
The best part of my day was crawling into bed with her, lying together in the darkness. We spent most nights at her apartment because it was closer to my office and the hospital, where my siblings and I were still rotating through shifts.
On the odd evening when we weren’t busy tearing each other’s clothes off, we determined all of her furniture was coming to my loft but we were still debating some of her bright prints. I was secretly looking forward to her velvet pillows and colorful kitchen accessories.
But I wasn’t excited about her Christmas trip to Mexico next week. Old habits died hard, and I worried she’d decide to disappear again, or her father would lock her in a Mexican convent. Both seemed somewhat plausible, and I was bitter about losing my naughty schoolteacher. I didn’t know how to sleep without her.
I stared at my phone, wishing I could sum up the present situation with some combination of emoticons.
13:09 Matthew:we’re taking Angus off life support.
13:11 Lauren:im so sorry. what do you need?
13:11 Lauren:have you said goodbye?
13:12 Matthew:no
13:13 Lauren:you need to, all of you do.
13:13 Matthew:you.
13:14 Matthew:i need you.
13:14 Lauren:give me 15 mins.
*
When Lauren arrived,it was clear she understood the task at hand. Nick looked on with his tense neurosurgeon glare to back her up, and one by one, she marched us down the hall for a final conversation with Angus.
Riley went first, and I watched as she reached out for his hand when they stepped through the doorway. They stayed for nine minutes—I needed a distraction, and counting the seconds gave me one—and I couldn’t imagine what took so long, but when they emerged, all six foot three of Riley engulfed my little Lauren, and he cried in her arms. Sam, Patrick, and I shared confused glances and ‘I don’t know what just happened to him’ shrugs.
Patrick went next, and though he only spent two minutes inside, nearly twenty minutes were spent embracing Lauren outside.
Shannon stared down the hallway for a long time before nodding at Lauren. They held on to each other—Shannon’s arm around Lauren’s waist, Lauren’s arm squeezing Shannon’s shoulders—and I noticed tears rolling down their faces. I didn’t track how long Shannon and Lauren were with Angus, but they clung to each other, crying, when they left.
Sam clutched her hand as they walked into the room, but he was yelling within minutes and it took two nurses and a security guard to remove him.
And then she came for me.
She held out her hand and I accepted it, though I never intended to step foot in that room. I looked away when we reached the door, but she wasn’t having it.
“Come on, Matthew. It’s time.”
I looked at our joined hands, her fingers tiny against mine, but knew size spoke nothing to strength. “I don’t have anything to say.”
“I think you do, and I think you want to, but more importantly, you have to.”
I stared at the floor, the clock, the walls—anything but the man on the gurney—but the insistent circle of Lauren’s thumb on my wrist drew the words from my depths. “You were a terrible person, Angus. You did awful, unforgiveable things, and I’ll never understand…” I sighed and turned to Lauren. “Why am I doing this? That’s not even him anymore. What’s the point of standing here and doing this? What did everyone else say that took so long?”
“You know what my father always says?”
“‘I’m going to tear the testicles off any man who has so much as an impure thought about my daughter’?”
