I became conscious of the fact I’d exhaled after that last sentence without bothering to reverse the process. My heartbeat thumped in my chest, pushing it to my throat and then into my eyes and making my skin stretch and burn. For a moment I considered the possibility of never breathing again. It would be a small price to pay for leaving Eric’s story unfinished.
And yet I knew his story was one that could not be untold. That must not. Not for my sake alone, though Elizabeth would perhaps disagree. But for Eric’s sake and for Jabber’s.
Maybe, I thought, that was my purpose. Maybe I survived to carry Eric’s memory to someone beyond his family and friends.
I took in a deep breath of hard, sterile air.
“You’re doing good, Andy,” Elizabeth said. She was close to me but not nearly close enough. The scissors and paper in her hand were now an afterthought, there only because she had forgotten them. “Let’s take a break.”
I nodded but said nothing. Starlight still shone through the open windows, but I could see the faint beginnings of daybreak creeping through the trees. I drew strength from that tinge of orange and yellow mixed in with the black. Light was coming to chase the shadows away. I’d seen enough darkness in those days after it all happened, enough to carry me through a dozen lifetimes. I was ready for light.
I reached out for Elizabeth’s hand. She met me halfway and smiled into my eyes. “There’s time,” she told me. “Plenty of time.” She raised the paper in her hands. “See? Almost done.”
The paper was cut to pieces, barely held together by thin strands around the edges. It reminded me of the old-timers in town who sat in front of the hardware store or on their front porches and whittled pieces of wood. To my knowledge, the end result was never anything artistic or even useful. It was just a nub and a pile of shavings on the ground. And I’d always supposed that was the point. It was a way to keep the hands busy and free the mind up to ponder. That’s what Elizabeth looked to be doing with her paper—whittling. Keeping things busy so she could slow them down and slow me down in the process. Still, the fragile mess she held in her hand puzzled me. I didn’t know how something that had no real purpose could be almost done.
Elizabeth hinted at an answer when she added, “That means we’re almost done, too.”
“What will happen then?” I asked her. “Are you gonna pick up and move on to the next patient?”
It was a childish thing to say. Elizabeth would move on. That was her job. She had much invested in me, but no more than she had invested in anyone else. I knew that. But I also knew that Elizabeth had been in only a small amount of the untold hours of my life, and I didn’t want her removed from a single hour more.
“I’ll be close, Andy. Promise. This isn’t the last you’ll see of me.” She winked and added, “You couldn’t chase me away with a stick.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said.
We both turned toward the noise at the door. Kim stood there wearing the frazzled look of a nurse struggling through the final hours of a graveyard shift.
“Sorry to bother you,” she said. “Just checking on my favorite patient.”
“Still here,” I said, squeezing Elizabeth’s hand as I did. I only thought after that it was perhaps something I shouldn’t have done. But whether it was an infringement of the rules or not, Elizabeth’s hand continued to fold over mine.
“Good,” Kim said. “The doctor will be here in a little while to give you the once-over. I’ll be back before then to get those bandages off.”
I said “That’s great news” because it was what I was expected to say.
“Holler if you need me, okay?”
“I will. Thanks.”
Kim smiled and lingered for a bit, studying Elizabeth and me. She finally left when someone called her from the hallway.
“I didn’t just get you in trouble, did I?” I asked.
“Nah,” Elizabeth said. “Don’t worry about that. I haven’t broken any rules.”
“Good.” I squeezed her hand again and felt her return.
“Eric and Jabber seem like two great boys,” she said, steering our conversation back to the business at hand.
“I saw in Eric the sort of person I always wanted to be. He was confident and outgoing. He held nothing back from anyone, and I admired him for that. I was always more like Jabber. Poor kid. He’s great, really great. Just needs a little confidence. He needs someone to help him along and give him a little guidance.”
“Like the Old Man does for you?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said, then I smiled. “Maybe Jabber should pray like I did. Then again, maybe not. Never know what you’re gonna get and what it’ll lead to.”
“Guess God knew what He was doing when He gave him Eric as a brother, huh?”
“He got that part right,” I said. And it was true. “He screwed up afterwards, though.” That was also true.
“God doesn’t screw up, Andy.”
I nodded. “That’s what folks are supposed to say just to make Him look good. ‘God’s got His reasons’ and all that. You know what, though? I bet those folks are the ones who never had their mama taken from them when they were just a kid. I bet those are the ones who’ve never had to see the bitter side of this life. They’re insulated from the bad in the world by what they have or what they do. It’s easy for them to hand out those little nuggets of wisdom. Other folks are just left to toss in the wind, Elizabeth. And it’s a cold, hard wind. You ask Jabber if God screws up. You ask him.”
“I’m asking you, Andy, not Jabber. You’re the one I’m here for right now. Someone else will tend to him.”
“Ain’t nobody to tend to him, Elizabeth.” The words came out in anger I didn’t know I had. I took a deep breath. “All he had was Eric. His daddy’s dead and gone, and his mama’s only home long enough to bring her latest boyfriend with her. The only thing he had in this world—”
“Was Eric,” she finished. “And now he’s dead, isn’t he, Andy? Eric’s gone.”
I clenched my hand tighter around hers. “He’s not just gone, he was taken. By God.”
“You told me the Old Man killed him.”
“The Old Man didn’t do anything to prevent it.”