Not With a Bang

Maggie stared at the industrial ceiling tiles. The ambient sound of chatter and soft soled shoes lured her into a state of unconscious that she fought wearily. She wanted to get out of here. She wanted to get away from the smell of antiseptic and Clorox. She wanted a fresh cup of strong coffee. She wanted her bed and her dogs. She wanted to go home. She didn't dare.

There had been no word. Her Dad, still speaking with the doctor a few paces down the hall, looked haggard. His blue eyes were red with crying and the lines were pronounced around his eyes. The nurses had stopped their come and go from Papa's room. That was good, she thought. He'd be able to rest now. She wanted suddenly, and with a pain that made her choke, to be little again. She wanted to go back to that princess room that her parents had picked just for her. She wanted her Dad to read her a book and Papa to tuck her in. She didn't want to be in the hospital waiting for Papa to die.

"Hey," a male voice brought her out of her gloomy thoughts. "I brought you coffee." Her little brother, Kevin. So much younger than her, only a senior in high school. He didn't deserve to have his father die, he deserved so much more time with their Papa. 

"Thanks," she said and put on her brave face. The coffee was bitter and weak. Kevin never could get it exactly right. "It tastes good." He smiled slightly and sipped his coke. He tried to laugh a little, but it came out garbled and wet. "It'll stunt your growth." 

Maggie reached over and gently cuffed him over the head. It was an old joke and a silly one. Maggie had been tall all her life and now she towered over her brother and parents. Only Papa had ever come close to her in height. Though, lately, he hadn't had the strength to sit up never mind stand. 

Another memory surfaced. A banquet for a charity her parents sponsored. Of course there was dancing, of course she towered over the other boys. Papa found her in the ballroom hallway, the little bit of makeup they had allowed her for the night running down her face as she cried silent tears. 

"This will never do," he said in his academic voice. "The prettiest girl at the dance cannot be allowed to hide in the hallway." He had dried her tears with his handkerchief and led her onto the dance floor. "Stand up straight, Maggie" he admonished her. "You have been blessed with height, don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise." 

A nurse came rushing by, pulling Maggie out of the memory. She glanced down the hall. Her dad and the doctor were still talking. What more could there be to say? She thought angrily. The diagnosis had been grim for months. Over the past few days Papa had steadily declined. What more could there be to say. Papa was dying. Papa was dying and he didn't need to be in the hospital. Maggie wanted him to be at home. He needed to be at home with their dogs and his special temperpedic pillow. They could put on The Golden Girls, even if he slept through all of it, and he would be comfortable and they would be together. There wouldn't be any antiseptic smell, or ambient beeping from heart monitors. 

"Do you remember coming home, Kevin?" She asked suddenly. He looked at her strangely but answered the question. "No," he whispered, then clearing his throat continued. "I was so young when I was adopted, apparently it's not surprising. You guys, my family, you guys are all I remember." He took a sip of coke and Maggie watched as one tear then another slid down his face. Reaching over, she wiped at the tear with her thumb. She looked down into her coffee cup, rolling the styrofoam between her hands to warm them. 

"What about you," he asked. "Do you remember before?" 

Fluorescent lights, another kind of industrial cleaning smell. Her seat just as hard as her present one, but her feet miles off the floor. Exactly three crayons, that was all they had allowed. It had frustrated her, how could she possibly draw the pictures in her head with three colors? Two men came in and spoke with the lady at the desk in front of her, both with golden hair. She was stunned. Maybe they were princes, she thought. Like in the stories. They were laughing with the woman. She stopped coloring to stare at them and looked away quickly when she was noticed. The man with dark eyes whispered to the other man and sat down next to her. The man with blue eyes continued to speak with the lady behind the desk.

"That's a pretty picture you're drawing." She looked down at he landscape, nothing but blue sky, green grass and the bright yellow sun. She shook her head sullenly. "Not enough colors." She mumbled. 

The man with dark eyes tutted. "That won't do," he said and reaching into his sports coat he pulled out a big pack of crayons. She stared enraptured by the shades of green, blue and red, gingerly taking the box from the man with the dark eyes. 

"Thank you," she whispered unable to take her gaze away from the yellow and green box in her hand. The man chuckled and she looked up at him. He held out his hand and she stared at it, unsure what to do, slowly she put her small hand in his. Gently he squeezed and went down on his knees on the floor so he looked her in the eye. "Miss Maggie," he whispered. "You are the sweetest, prettiest little girl. Would you like to come and stay with us?" He gestured to the man with the blue eyes. He had stopped talking to the woman behind the desk and they were looking at her now. The other mans eyes were turning pink and he had tears on his cheeks. 

Maggie looked at the man with dark eyes, how they twinkled with mischief and fun. "Yes I would," She whispered.

"No," she whispered, coming back from the memory. Her throat painfully clogged with tears too close to the surface. "They are all I remember." 

Dad finally stopped talking with the doctor and moved slowly toward them. Kevin jumped up and Maggie followed. As soon as they were close enough they were gathered in, holding onto one another. Maggie took comfort in the cedar smell of her Dad's cologne, wanting to weep because she knew it was her Papa's favorite. Still holding onto each other they sat on the sofa.

"Can he come home," Kevin asked tearfully, taking her question from her. They looked at their Dad, the air heavy with expectation. Maggie knew the answer before he opened his mouth. She knew by the hopeless look in his eyes and the tightness of his jaw. 

Kevin saw it too and let a strangled sob escape before he jumped up and began pacing the hall. Attempting and failing to keep the tears at bay. Maggie sat with her dad, holding his hand, tears running down both of their faces.  

"I'm going to sit with him," she whispered. She moved slowly toward the door, her dad holding onto her hand until the last minute. Someone had brought a lamp so that there was a soft orange glow in the room instead of harsh institutional light. Maggie pulled the armchair up to the side of the bed and gently took Papa's hand. With his warm brown eyes closed he seems deflated somehow. The force of his personality hidden behind his lids smudged blue with exhaustion. He seemed so frail. 

      The ambient sound of the hospital was muted in his room. Here only the heart monitor broke the oppressive quiet. She tried to take deep measured breaths to keep from thinking. Painfully, she swallowed and laughed ruefully. "I'm sorry I didn't bring my phone in," she whispered. "Or we could listen to some Bossa Nova." 

Tears were silently falling down her face. She gently ran her thumb back and forth across his hand and the thick veins that bisected it. She became aware of her Dad and Kevin coming into the room. Kevin moved to the other side of the bed and took Papas other hand while Dad pulled the other chair up to the foot of the bed. 

Once everyone settled she realized that Papa was worrying at her hand and she looked up. He was gazing at her from half lidded eyes, a faint smile on his face. 

"Hey pretty girl," he rasped, coughing and she hurriedly reached for the nearby cup to get him some water. Dad stood up and moved to the head of the bed, smoothing Papa's hair back. "How are you feeling? Do you need anything?" He asked. `A weak smile. "No, just sleep. I'm so tired." Dad gave him a pained smile and made himself busy straightening pillows. Papa smiled when he saw Kevin and ran his finger up and down his cheek. 

      Everyone smiled and made small talk as though the world wasn't being shifted on its access, as though they weren't all standing at the precipice of before and after. It was the strangest thing, but there was something comforting about resting in that delusion. In believing that it was just another hospital visit, and that as soon as the doctor gave the go ahead they would wheel Papa out to the car. Him joking about the service like the hospital were a four star resort and the rest of the family rolling eyes at his corny jokes. Despite the surroundings, Maggie found herself getting sleepy, across from her Kevin's head was resting on his chest. Her blinks became longer and longer. Maybe she'd put her head down, just for a minute. The last thing she heard before sleep claimed her was the quite murmuring of her parents, and Papa whispering, "You are the sweetest, prettiest little girl." 

She was cold but what woke Maggie was the quiet. There was no sound, no beeping of the heart monitor, and her Papa's hand was limp. Sitting up, she found that it was morning, weak yellow light shone through the large window. She looked around and saw Dad standing with the doctor, holding a sobbing Kevin. Maggie stood shakily, slowly moving back from the bed. She thought someone was saying her name, but she couldn't hear anything over the roaring silence. She pressed her hands to her mouth, shaking her head in denial. Refusing to let the tears come. She needed to be strong, Dad and Kevin needed her to be strong, and if she started sobbing now she'd never stop.

She tried breathing deeply to calm down, one after the other she tried to catch her breath but someone had sucked all of the air out of the room. Faintly, from far away, she heard her name again. She was sobbing now, her grief and panic taking over her body. She couldn't breath. Arms surrounded her and she screamed. She wailed. Everything that was happening, everything that she wanted for Papa came crushing down on her chest. Her ribs puncturing her lungs, her heart exploding. Why she kept living in those moments was a mystery she'd never know.

     Later Dad and Kevin would tell her that Papa had dozed off early in the morning; still holding onto her and her brother. His heartbeat had slowed, the doctor was brought in, the beeps of his heart had moved further and further apart. Dad said that the doctor called time of death just before she woke up. "It's like you felt him leave," he whispered in her ear when she calmed. "Baby girl, don't be sad. Papa always knew just when to go."