Ким Карр - Torn

Through the metal bedrail I see so many wires, tubes, and cords leading from one machine to another and then to her. I’m surprised how noisy they all are for such a quiet place. Every whoosh pumps oxygen through a clear tube, each bleep indicates the rate at which her heart is beating, and the sound of air compressing monitors her blood pressure. An alarm goes off and I jump. When Grace’s body twitches slightly and she gasps for air, I look at Ben in horror and scream, “Shouldn’t someone be in here to monitor her?”

He looks at me somberly, withdrawn even as he answers, “It’s okay, that’s just a warning that her oxygen saturation level is low.”

Quickly, a nurse comes in and turns the dial near the tank. She waits a few minutes to take Grace’s pulse, and then she leaves. I hear whispering behind me and see Serena is talking to River outside the door.

When my eyes return to Grace, it strikes me anew how ashen and lifeless her complexion looks. How can this be happening to Grace? This woman has been my mother since the day mine died. She shared all my ups and downs and guided me through so much. My throat tightens and I suddenly feel dizzy. I can’t stay in here. I run out of the room and go to River.

He sits me down and I pull my knees up to my chest. He crouches in front of me and strokes my cheek with his fingers, but doesn’t say a word. When he tips my chin so that I’m looking into his eyes he whispers, “You have to do this. You have to stay with her baby. She needs you.”

I unfold my arms and cup his cheeks, and simply nod. He pauses as if to gather his own strength before standing and pulling me up. His arms circle around me. “I’m so sorry.”

I kiss him softly on the lips, my heart filled with so much love for him and so much sadness for Grace that I’m sure it’s going to burst. I don’t think I have room left for any other emotions.

I tell myself he’s right. I am strong. I can be there for Grace, Serena, and even Ben. One more deep breath and then I make myself walk back into the room. I look at Serena, who seems paralyzed with fear. I look at Ben and his eyes are closed, but when he opens them they are ravaged with pain.

Moving next to Serena, I grab her hand and can feel how her body trembles.

Her voice breaks. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay,” I say in complete honesty.

She turns to me. “I know, neither am I.”

Hugging her I whisper, “I’m so sorry for not telling you about Trent.”

She shakes her head, “No, I’m sorry. I should never have yelled at you that way. Ben explained everything.”

My gaze moves to him, noticing his sad blue eyes, and I quickly look back to Serena. “Oh God, where is Trent? Is he alone?”

“We took him to the recovery center yesterday afternoon. She came with us,” he says, his voice cracking and his eyes focused on his mother. “We went back to Laguna and brought her home. I walked her in and she had trouble getting up the stairs. She said she felt dizzy and then all of a sudden she complained of a severe headache. She hadn’t been feeling well all day so I had her lie down. When I couldn’t wake her up, we called nine-one-one and got her here as soon as we could. But it was too late.”

Tears are streaming down his face as he tells me. I can’t see him like this. I hate him, but my heart aches for him. For a while Serena, Ben, and I sit in silence by Grace’s bed, then I step out into the corridor. River is in the waiting area, looking out the huge window. It’s still raining and I have no idea how long we’ve been in the room. Walking over to him, I lean on him and he wraps his arm around my shoulder, kissing my head.

“You need anything?”

“No, just you.”

I sit with him and neither of us talks at first.

He shifts slightly and whispers in my ear. “You know you’re just like her—amazing.”

Suddenly, I realize why people whisper in hospitals. It’s not because they don’t want to face what’s before them, it’s to ease the mind of those around them, to lessen the pain. Facing him, I swipe the hair from his forehead and stare into his green eyes. I can feel a single tear drip down my cheek and he wipes it away. Brushing my lips softly to his I say, “Thank you,” and hug him as tightly as I possibly can.

Glancing up, I see Ben behind us just staring. He gives me an odd look and then heads back to the room. After a while, I get up and take River’s hand. “Come on, come with me.”

“I don’t think I should, but if you need me I’m right here.”

I smile at him and squeeze his hand. “I know.”

When I walk back into the room, Serena wipes her tears away and stands. “I’m going to grab some coffee. Do you want some?”

Ben and I both decline.

When it’s just him and me, the silence between us is deafening. He looks up from his chair beside Grace and says, “It’s my fault, you know.”

Looking at him, I feel anger and then a wave of sympathy. I don’t say anything, but I slide my chair around the bed to sit next to him. I take hold of Grace’s hand, and it’s so cold. I just sit there, not sure if my touch offers her any comfort, but it feels like the right thing to do. Ben stays silent for the longest time and the tension between us seems to say it all.

“Dahl, did you hear me?” he asks with sorrow in his voice.

I try to ease his pain. “It’s not your fault, Ben. Strokes aren’t caused by other people.”

Placing his hand on Grace’s arm, he looks over at me. “Maybe not, but I can’t help but think she wouldn’t be here if I never came back. Everything’s a mess. I’m just so sorry. You know I never meant to hurt you. I’ve always loved you, even though my actions didn’t always show it.”

I can’t believe he’s using this time and place to atone for his mistakes. He hesitates only for a moment before edging closer to me. He runs his finger over my wrist, where his bracelet had adorned my arm until yesterday. I start to move away but something feels wrong. His eyes . . . they’re filled with remorse, grief, and maybe even loneliness. That wave of sympathy I felt earlier now shatters me. My eyes close in a subconscious effort to block out the bad memories. He clutches my hand tight to his face, and, for a few heartbeats, I leave it that way until a high-pitched sound fogs my senses, and then quickly brings reality crashing down.

The steady beeping of the heart monitor changes to one long tone. It’s a constant high-pitched whine, no breaks in between. Just a long, flat, piercing sound that penetrates my ears. Doctors and nurses flood the room. Time seems to slow while at the same time the room comes alive. Backing away, I watch the clock tick as they desperately try to bring her back, but she’s already gone. I know she is. The nurses rotate through compressions and give nervous glances to each other as the seconds pass. The doctor grabs the paddles from the cart. “Clear,” he yells and I twitch at the same time Grace’s body does.

And then, just like that, all efforts stop as they let her go. But this can’t be real. I’m here, she’s here, but things will never be the same. I can’t stop staring at her. Her lips are parted as if she’s in midsentence and I wait for her to say, “Dahlia honey, where’s your umbrella?” But she doesn’t.

Serena stands in the doorway, looking blankly at the bed. Ben rushes to his mother’s side, and I hear him screaming, “No, Mom. No.” Serena goes over to him and as I watch the two of them, I start to back away from the deafening sound. It’s only purpose is to alert us to what we already know—Grace is gone.

Serena pulls Ben to her and everything in the room seems to cloud over. Sadness, anger, disbelief, guilt—they’re all fighting for their place inside me and I just want out of this skin. All of the sounds, voices, movements, and bodies around me form a big blur and I feel like I’m suffocating. A sob rises in my throat and I quickly turn to escape the room. I run down the long corridor and it suddenly seems stark white. The automatic doors open, allowing me to flee out into the safety of the rain. Finally, I can breathe. The rain falls down harder and harder as I let the tears flow at the same pace, the tears I’ve been holding in so I could be the stronger one.

I cry for time that won’t stand still, for losses that should never have happened, for friendships broken, for mistakes made, for my pain, and most of all I cry for Grace. Especially for Grace.

I try to understand why death takes a person from you, but not the relationship. It leaves you to carry on with only half of what you need to make things whole.

Lifting my arms out to the side, I raise my head up toward the heavens and scream, “It’s not fair. Do you hear me? It’s just not fair.” My scream turns into a whimper before I finish and my anger transforms into sorrow as the reality hits me that no matter how mad I am or how sad I am, she’s really gone.

Water drips from my hair, absorbs into my clothes, and soaks me to the bone. Grief besieges me as I feel another piece of my soul chipped away and I wonder how much more could possibly be left. How much can one person take until there is nothing left—to take or to give?

“Dahl,” Ben yells and my name sounds desperate on his lips.

“Dahlia,” River calls and this time my name sounds calm, tranquil.

I turn and see him standing in the doorway to the hospital entrance.

“River!” I cover my mouth and shake my head.

“I’m sorry,” he calls out to me and I run to him, because I don’t want to run any other way. I jump into his arms and hold him and I know that what’s left of my soul is for him.

Everybody’s Changing