Freedom of Sketch

Hello, Goodbye

The following day, Jenny pleads for me to get out of bed. Her tone is more urgent than usual. As I walk down the corridor, irritated and rubbing sleep from my eyes, she tells me I have a very important phone call. "From a Ms. Kennedy," she explains.

Daniel's mom. My heart sinks and I lose feeling in my hands and feet. I stop and lean against a wall. "Oh, no." I cover my face. Sobs rise from my chest and climb up my throat. I feel like someone's taken an ax to my heart. "He's dead. She's calling to tell me they took him off life support."

"Oh, honey." Jenny pulls me toward her. I retreat into her lavender-vanilla perfume, that safe, sacred smell. "I'm so sorry." She cradles my head, stands with me there, slowly rocking me back and forth. "Do you want me to get Meredith?"

You're enough, I want to say, but my voice is buried under layers of tears. I sniff and shake my head. My tears drip on the linoleum, and I look down to see that I'm standing on one of the seams.

"It's always okay to need someone," Jenny whispers into my unwashed hair.

I drag myself in the direction of the phones. "Not me." A fern tickles my back as I sit down at the middle phone. Jenny gives me a look of sympathy as she transfers my call. The phone rings and I pick up. "H-hello?"

"Shiloh?" There are tears in her voice.

"Yes?"

I try to imagine Ms. Kennedy, a short woman with the same haircut as my mother, sitting next to me, talking to me face-to-face. "It's Daniel's mom." She sounds so far away. "I have some news."

I prepare myself. It's the end. It's over. He's gone. My hands sweat.

"Daniel opened his eyes yesterday."

I stand abruptly, nearly yanking the phone cord from the wall. "What!?" I shout.

Jenny looks up from the desk, her eyebrows raised in alarm.

Something opens up inside of me. I should be glowing visibly, radiant with relief. I am a flower slowly nuzzling my way out of a deep frost, searching for the sunlight. My gravity shifts back to normal again, and the sand trickles, grain by grain, out of my bloodstream. I am weightless.

Ms. Kennedy bursts into a tearful laugh. "He's conscious, Shiloh!"

I rock back and forth. Speechless. In my head, I thank a god I never worshiped, just the convenient, disposable god I'd used in bargains and desperate, shallow, self-centered prayers. I play with the phone cord, running my fingernails up and down the metal wire. Finally, I find the words. "Thank God."

"Yes, thank God," Ms. Kennedy says. "I never knew how much I appreciated my son and all he's done for me until I almost lost him. I can't abandon him again."

This conversation is turning into something filled with too much adult drama for me to handle, so I change the subject. "Has he said anything?"

"No, he can't talk - he's got the breathing tube in, but we know he understands us when we speak to him because he blinks his eyes at 'yes' or 'no' questions. He also squeezed his doctor's hand. He's improving, Shiloh. Against all odds!" She laughs again. "You're the first person I called. I know Daniel would want you to know before anyone else."

"T-thank you," I sob. "I wish I could visit."

Ms. Kennedy: "I know you do, sweetpea. Even if you weren't in the hospital, Daniel's still in ICU, so it's family only."

"I understand. Thank you so much for calling me, Ms. K. Just one more thing...?"

"Yes, hon?"

"Can you tell him that I lo - I mean, that I'm thinking of him?"

"Absolutely," she says.

We hang up at the same time.

Jenny comes out from the nurse's station and carefully edges her way into my space, where I'm wiping my runny eyes and snotty nose on the inside collar of my shirt. "What's happening, Shiloh?" She frowns in confusion when I beam up at her.

 "He's conscious! He's awake and alive and squeezing his doctor's hand and... and...." I grab Jenny, tearfully clinging to her sweater like a piece of dust. But she doesn't flick me off. She wraps her strong arms around my ribs and just holds me. And I realize she's right: it's always okay to need someone.