This woman is a shell dressed in my mother’s clothes. She answered the doctors’ questions when they spoke directly to her, but that’s it. She’s been staring at Aeron and occasionally wiping her face with the back of her hand. Her crying is so quiet it’s worse than screaming.
I understand she’s as shocked and devastated as I am, but shouldn’t we be together right now in our pain? Hugging and telling each other we just need to have faith that he’ll wake up?
I’m the one who’s been pushing for details, asking the nurses about his vitals, requesting updates every time someone walks past the door. I’m the one who asked about brain scans, liver enzymes, and what happens if his kidneys start failing. I wrote down the names of his medications on the back of a receipt because I needed to do something with my hands, or I was going to lose my mind.
I’ve been getting informed while Mom is somewhere else in her head. The distance between us in this room is the loneliest I have ever felt.
I glance at Dorien and nod. He scoots his chair over to sit beside me, his hand resting on my back. He’s been solid and present all night, but he’s also quiet in a way that doesn’t fit him. He keeps looking at Aeron with a locked jaw and an expression I can’t read, his eyes fixed on my brother’s face like he’s searching for an answer there.
I don’t have the capacity to figure out what’s happening inside my mom or Dorien right now. My entire brain is devoted to the boy in the bed.
Dorien squeezes my shoulder. “Coffee?” he asks quietly.
“No thanks.”
“I need some. Be back soon.” His fingers linger for a second, then he stands and leaves.
The room shrinks. Just me, Mom, Aeron, and the machines.
I check my phone. No new messages, but Cinna should be here soon. Even though it’s after one in the morning, I called and woke her up. She’s part of our group so she deserved to know. I told her she didn’t need to come now and could wait until the morning, but she said she’s on her way.
Mom reaches across the bed and takes Aeron’s other hand, the one without the IV. She’s now holding both with her fingers curled around his.
“Sweet boy,” she whispers. “My sweet boy.” She smooths his hair with her palm, then caresses his forehead.
She hums a lullaby she used to sing to both of us. I’d forgotten it existed until this second, and her voice makes it impossible to ignore the tidal wave of emotion building in my chest.
“Baby’s fishing for a dream,” she sings. “Fishing near and far. His line a silver moonbeam is; his bait’s a silver star. Sail, babysail. Out upon that sea. Only don’t forget to sail. Back again to me.”
Oh God.I hunch forward and sob into my hands.
I feel a warm hand on my back and glance up to find Dorien next to me again, holding a coffee cup. He pulls me into a firm hug so I can finish sobbing against him.
We sit together and listen to my mother sing to her son.
“Sail, baby sail. Out upon that sea. Only don’t forget to sail. Back again to me.”
I reach up to touch Dorien’s cheek, wanting him to look at me so I can tell him how thankful I am that he’s here, how much I love him, but his gaze is locked on Aeron with that same look I can’t read. He keeps staring, and his stillness makes him look like a sculpture of himself.
Is he a shell too?
“Did you know he was using…” I whisper.
Dorien shakes his head, still locked on my brother. “I wish I had.”
I can’t wrap my head around it. Since when has my brother been using cocaine? Where did he even get it? I want to believe what he did tonight was a mistake. That he misjudged his tolerance and made a stupid decision.
But Carter said there wereseveralempty baggies. Two bottles of vodka. My brother isn’t stupid. He loves researching and absorbing new information.
He knew what he was doing.
The next sob comes from so deep inside me it feels like my body is inverting. Dorien pulls me against him tighter, and I wail into his shoulder. I’m so loud I’m sure the entire ER can hear me. My fingers grip the front of his shirt, and I can’t stop. I can’t breathe. I keep seeing Aeron’s face the way it looked a few days ago when he told me he was fine and I believed him. I believed him because believing was easier than sitting with the truth thatmy brother has been drowning and I’ve been standing on the shore, looking in the wrong direction.
I don’t know how long I cry but it seems there’s no end to my tears. At some point I pull back and wipe my face with my sleeve. The collar of Dorien’s shirt is soaked through.
My phone vibrates. A text from Cinna:I’m here how do I find you?
Me:Ask the front desk for Patricia. She’s one of Aeron’s nurses. Say you’re family. They’re very kind and will take you back.
