Chapter Ten

Family Meeting

I arranged this meeting with Amanda’s parents the day prior. Their daughter had ceased breathing as a result of her narcotic ingestion. Her heart eventually stopped but was restarted by her father when he began CPR after finding her unconscious. That tragedy occurred over a week ago. Since then Amanda was found to have so much brain damage from the lack of oxygen she would never again awaken. She was hooked up to various machines, which at the present moment were keeping her alive. We needed to talk about whether the Hillingers would let choose life or death for their daughter.

Bob and Marlene both looked distant as they stared at the solid oak door behind me. The air of the conference room seemed stale and warm, causing the square room to close in around us. We sat at either side of a thick, circular oak table in the center of the sparsely decorated space. Two long rectangular paintings hung at either end of the room, each depicting a vase of pale cut flowers. That white lilies should stand sentinel in the space we physicians and nurses referred to as the Death Room seemed fitting.

“Marlene and Bob,” I said, anxious to grab hold of their attention, but they seemed not to hear me. “We need to make decisions for Amanda,” I explained, “because she is no longer capable of making them for herself.”

Marlene’s eyes were red and puffy. She was probably thirty but looked older. Bob was a big-chested former athlete with sparse black hair upon his square head. His shoulders slumped, and he was drawn in upon himself, making him appear smaller than he was. His eyes reflected only loss. He looked broken.

I explained the severe and irreversible nature of their child’s brain damage. Their eyes informed me they understood.

“Doctor,” Marlene interrupted. “Our daughter’s soul is trapped in a body that doesn’t allow it to respond to other souls.”

This seemed a cruel way to envision Amanda’s fate but Marlene had a pretty good point. Children like Amanda could not interact with their environment in any meaningful way. They lay isolated in bodies that depended upon medical technology for survival. The same fate probably awaited Justice.

Still, Amanda had found a way to walk into my backyard and engage me in conversation. I promised her I would tell them. I needed to tell them, yet couldn’t. This moment in time was critical, and I dared not share with them a vision that may have been an alcohol-inspired hallucination. I sat there mute like a confused idiot.

“Where is her soul right now, Paul?” Marlene addressed me informally, demanding an answer. I remained silent, struggling internally.

“I have to tell you something,” I stammered. I checked the door to make sure no staff members were lurking within earshot. “I had a dream yesterday.” The Hillingers looked at me expectantly. I drew a heavy breath and continued.

“Amanda came to me in my dream.”

Marlene gasped in shock, and Bob gave me a hard look.

“She wanted you to know two things.” I decided to skip the part about the Binders, as if this omission alone would convince them I was sane. “First, she wants you to know she didn’t mean to hurt herself.”

Marlene began to sob heavily, and Bob put his arms around her. She buried her head in his chest, and he gave me a stern look as if to say, Stop this shit right now.

I ignored the warning.

“Second, she wants you to know you need to let her go.”

Marlene continued to sob into her husband’s broad chest, and Bob finally spoke to me.

“You’re telling us you actually talked to our daughter? Like in some kind of dream?” He wasn’t waiting for a reply. “Have you done this before?” This time he left a pregnant pause.

“No.”

Bob shook his head, whether from grief or disgust I don’t know. I opened the heavy oak door and left the Hillingers to support each other.