That Boy

“Yes, you can talk to him.” The doctor is young, good-looking and has compassionate eyes. If I weren't in such distress, I'd probably be flirting with him. “He's highly medicated, and he won't be in any pain. He's slipped into a coma, so he won't talk back, but we believe coma patients can hear you. So go talk to him, tell him you love him and say goodbye.” He stops and sighs. “I know this is tough, but he signed the back of his driver's license indicating his wish to be an organ donor. We need your approval for that. He was a strong, healthy man and his organs could help many families whose loved ones will die without them.”

I zone out most of what he said because all I can focus on is the word was. He was a strong man.

Was?

I turn and glance at Phillip. “Was?” I put my elbow on my knee, hold my chin in my hand and close my eyes.

How am I supposed to do this?

I ca

A voice inside my head, probably the same stupid one that can never say no to a dare or take no for an answer, says, you have to.

“You didn't answer the when part.” I state.

He shakes his head and purses his lips, “Not long. Maybe a few hours, maybe a few minutes.”

“When do you need to know about the organ donation stuff?”

“When you make a decision, let his nurse know, and she'll get you the appropriate paperwork. You can all go in to see him, but please, no more than two at a time.” He gets down on his knees in front of me, touches my hand and says seriously, “Jadyn, I'm very sorry about both your mother and father. I was here when they both came in, and we really did everything we could.” And I realize that this has been hard on him too.

“Thank you. I appreciate everything you did,” I manage to say.

Mr. Mac comes walking back down the hall. Mr. Diamond heads him off and updates him on the situation.

“I'm going in there,” I state. I want to see Dad, but I feel sick to my stomach. Part of me feels like if I just pretend this isn't happening, then maybe it won't be. The other part of me needs to say goodbye. I feel like a big fat chicken.

Get a hold of yourself. You are so not a chicken.

I walk up to Mr. Mac, look at him with well practiced puppy dog eyes, and give him a hug. He really looked like he could use one and, truthfully, I'm hoping to soften him up a little. “Would you come in with me?”

Okay, so maybe I'm a bit chicken.

“I don't know if I can, JJ.” He answers truthfully. “It tears me up to see him like that.”

“Me too. But we have to. We'll do it together, okay?”

He shakes his head yes, and we walk into the ICU.

I hate to say it, but Dad looks worse. His skin is very gray. I don't know why this is such a shock to me, but it is. I shake my head to Mr. Mac, indicating he can go first.

He puts his hand on my dad's shoulder and says, “Hey buddy. Not our best night ever, huh? And we have had some nights, haven't we?” He pauses, remembering and smiling. Then he continues, “Things aren't looking so great for you, so I want you to know I'll take care of your angel as promised.”

Huge tears stream down his face, and he doesn't bother to wipe them away.

It's really hard to watch a grown man cry.

He slowly backs away from the bed, so I walk over and perch gently on the edge of it. The hospital smells like cleaner and medicine and disinfectant, yet through it all I can still smell my dad.

It's not even his cologne.

It's just him.

I lay my head across his chest.

“I love you, Daddy. So much. I don't know what I am going to do without you and Mommy.”

This sucks.

No one should ever have to go through this. It's just so horribly, incredibly awful.

The organ donation thing comes to mind, and I think if I can save even one family from having to go through this, I should do it.

I walk straight out to the nurse and say, “Let's do it. Let me sign the papers.”

While I'm signing she says, “You know you're doing a wonderful thing. In a few minutes people across the country will get the call they have been hoping and praying for. Because of you.”

“No. Because of my dad,” I say, and walk back in with Dad.

He dies a few hours later.

Phillip's parents drive us home. We get to their house and, like a robot, I wash my face, brush my teeth and pull on a pair of Phillip's sweats and a T-shirt. Da

Really no one says a word. I think we're all in shock.

Finally Mrs. Mac breaks the silence. “I think we should all try to get some sleep.” She turns to me and says, “JJ, the doctor gave us some sleeping pills for you. I think you should take one.”

I shake my head no. “There will be a lot to do tomorrow. Oh, I guess it already is tomorrow. I mean like later today. Anyway, I helped my parents plan Grandpa Reynolds funeral last year, so I know there'll be lots to do, and I don't want to feel all groggy.” I took a sleeping pill once after I broke my arm and had a hard time staying awake the next day.

Da

“Yeah, I do,” I tell them. “I think I need to.”

Phillip's cell rings. “Da

Like I'm not already painfully aware of what happened tonight.

He walks back into the room and hands me his phone.

“Are you okay?” I ask Da

“Ohmigawd, Jay. Yes, are you okay? No, that's a stupid question. Of course you're not okay. I am so sorry. God, I should've been there with you.”

“You couldn't have known.”

“I'm headed out the door now. I'll be there as fast as I can.”

“Don't do that, Da

“O-kay,” he answers.

There's silence on the other end and I wonder if the call dropped, but then Da

“Yeah?”

“It wasn't just about making Jake jealous. See you in a few hours.”

Phillip takes the phone away from me and gives it to Mrs. Diamond.

“Alright. It's been a long night.” Mrs. Mac stands up and claps her hands together. “Everybody to bed.”

The Diamonds go home and I ask pathetically, “Is it okay if I sleep in Phillip's room? I don't wa

“Sure, honey.” Mrs. Mac says, hugs me and heads to her room.

Phillip grabs my hand and leads me upstairs. He lies on his bed, props a pillow behind his back and holds out his arm. I snuggle into the crook of it, put my head on his chest and close my eyes.

Phillip doesn't say anything to me, he just runs his fingers through my hair over and over again.

It was incredibly soothing and at some point I must have fallen asleep.

I wake up a few hours later, still lying on his shoulder.

“You're awake,” he whispers.

“Why?” I start to say, looking at him and wondering where I am.

Then it all comes rushing back.

“Oh God. It really happened?”

“Yeah, it did.” He strokes my hair again.

God, he's sweet.

“It seems like so long ago, but I'm sorry I yelled at you after the party.”

“I doubt it'll be the last time,” he chuckles.

“Phillip.”

“Well, at least I hope it won't be the last time because it would mean you weren't with me.”

I roll my eyes at him. I don't get mad at him that often. Just when he disagrees with me.

“I'll always love my Princess.” He smiles. “Even when she's mad at me.”