Coming Undone (4 page)

After taking her plate to the sink, washing it off, and putting it in the dishwasher, she trekked into the living room. Curling onto the couch, she grabbed the remote, aimed it at the television and started flipping through the channels. One led to the next and then to the next. How could there be that many channels and nothing to watch? Putting her head back onto the cushions, she continued through the channels, hoping she had missed something. She hadn’t.

Finally she clicked the thing off and let the darkness envelope her. Her spirit plummeted into it and through it. Maybe Casey was right. Maybe she should tell Misty she’d go out with what’s his name. She bounced her toe up and down trying to decide. It couldn’t be any worse than sitting alone in her apartment for hours on end. Could it?

Try as she might, she couldn’t find one thing that wasn’t completely depressing about her current existence. The plain truth was, she was tired of being alone. “God, why are You making me wait?” she asked the ceiling. “I don’t understand this. I really don’t. Look. If he’s not coming, would You please just tell me so I can quit thinking about it?”

Silence.

Utter, total, complete, maddening silence.

Even the soft ringing of her ears was louder than God’s answer.

“
Great.” She sprang to her feet. “That’s just great, God. Thanks for that. Really. I’ll be sure to put an extra five in the collection plate tomorrow.” Stomping to her room although she had to be careful what with her sock feet on the hardwood floors, Kathryn let the anger and frustration boil over. She didn’t need a man. She’d survived this long without one. Besides a man meant she’d have to deal with kids. The others at work were always complaining about how expensive day care was, not to mention braces and dance lessons.

As she brushed her teeth, she reasoned at least she didn’t have to waste money on things like that. No. She had a whole apartment all to herself. If she left her underwear on the floor, nobody was there to complain. If she let the dishes stack up, that was okay too. No one cared.

And yet, as she went into her bedroom and sat down on the bed, sadness took over. She laid her clasped hands in her lap and closed her eyes. “God, really I don’t understand this. I don’t.” Slowly she slid from the bed to the floor. Kneeling there, she laid her head on her hands. “God, please. If being married is not what You want for me, then please, please take this desire away. I can’t take living like this all the time, feeling like something should be happening when it isn’t. Please. Somehow, just give me peace. I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

But she knew she really had no choice in the matter. If God didn’t send her soulmate, there was really not much she could do other than to continue to wait and pray. Her heart filled with thoughts of the “him” she didn’t even know, and the familiar words came once again. “God, please be with him tonight, keep him safe, and guide him in the ways You want him to go. Dear Lord, please put Your hand on his life, guide him, protect him, and give him peace. Amen.”

The brakes under Ben squealed the car to a halt as the white car flashed by him through the intersection. “Hello! What does red light mean to you? Jerk!”

Collecting his scattering nerves, Ben smashed his foot on the pedal and took off through his light which was still green. “Stupid, idiot drivers. Get a clue or get off the road!”

He knew in some deep place in himself that he was out of control and on the edge of completely losing it, but he didn’t want to think about that. The street lights flashed over the top of the Mustang, drifting across the shiny paint like ghosts from another existence. Putting his elbow up on the armrest, he let his head down onto his hand as he stopped at the next red light. At this rate it was going to be midnight or better before he got home.

Home. That would seem odd in a way it never had before. That’s where he was, where he had been before his world had turned upside down. Pushing that and everything else back down, he drove through the crowded Saturday night streets, hardly realizing that had this been a normal Saturday night, he would surely have been cruising these same streets looking for some action. Right now all he wanted to find was a pillow and a bed.

It was another 30 minutes before he pulled up to his apartment. Another five before he closed the apartment door behind him and leaned up against it. Home.

He didn’t bother to turn the lights on. What was the point? Instead he pitched his keys to the little hallway table and wrenched his jacket off. Tired had never felt like this. Even hangovers were better. At least with them, he had a vague memory of fun and partying to remind him of why he felt so bad. This just felt bad through and through.

Going into the kitchen, he considered a beer but decided against it. Instead he got some water from the tap, which he hated but downed the whole thing without tasting any of it. He felt at the moment like he might never again slake his thirst or be fully rested. He was so tired. So incredibly tired. Two steps back to the door and he saw the blinking message light on his answering machine sitting on his counter. Like a robot, he punched the button and leaned his head against the door post to keep himself from sliding to the ground.

Beep. “Ben. Dude. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you.” Kelly.

Ben wondered what time that one had been left, but somehow he had missed that part of the message.

“
Don’t worry. I’ll try your cell.”

Beep. “Ben. Hi. This is Charissa… from the party.”

His eyes rolled upward before letting them fall all the way closed.
Not now.

“
Listen, I got your number from Cameron. I hope you don’t mind. I really had a good time the other night. I’d like to see you again. Call me. K?”

She left her number in a sultry tone just before the machine went beep. And then it went dark. Without bothering to even think of responding to either, Ben picked himself up off the wall and headed for the shower. He wanted to get off this nightmare of a ride. He wondered if someone could let him off. It would be nice.

The hot water from the shower sent humidity into the air, and although Ben wanted to get in under it, he found himself at his sink, knowing he should be doing something but not at all sure what that something was. Then he looked into the mirror. His eyes were sunken and sad. He didn’t remember ever seeing them like that before. How could he ever get through this? This wasn’t the life he wanted. He didn’t do responsibility well. Never had. Careless and reckless were much more his style.

Too tired to dwell on that, he headed for the shower and was already under the current before he remembered he was going to shave. Oh, well. Granted, two full days of stubble were becoming far more than a mere five-o’clock shadow by this point. If he kept this up, even he wouldn’t recognize himself. The shower was accomplished only by marshalling all of the energy he had left. Still, each movement was made in ultra-slow, by sheer-force-only motion. It seemed slow was the only gear accessible to him anymore.

When he cut the water, he grabbed the nearest towel, put it around him, and went back out to the bedroom. Sure, he normally did things like brush and dry his hair, brush his teeth, dress for bed. But little things like that were lost in the thick haze of exhaustion. He wasn’t even sure he was in the bed before he was asleep.

Sunday mornings always dawned with glorious sunrises followed by soft white and pale yellow light streaming in her bedroom window. Kathryn loved Sundays. She awoke bathed in that heavenly light as she did every Sunday. Sundays were always special because she got to sleep in a bit later and so the sun had a little more chance to break over the horizon and make it into her room. Breathing life in, she smiled. Maybe today was the day. Maybe today she would meet the guy two rows up at church. Before she was even out of bed, she started plotting. If he was there before she was, maybe she could just innocently sit next to him.

That wouldn’t be too forward, would it? It might be, she finally decided. Maybe she could sit behind him. Then when they did the sign of peace, he would turn and shake her hand. A fantasy played out featuring the two of them, their eyes meeting, their hearts beating as one. She let those thoughts run their course because they were so much better than reality ever was.

Dragging in an excited breath, she arched her shoulders over the possibilities. Maybe today was the day.

“
We can do the surgery,” Dr. Vitter said. He was the same doctor as the first night only this time Ben had been able to tease the right name out of his still-exhausted brain. Dr. Vitter. Richard as his father had always referred to him. They played golf. They went to the same fundraisers for the hospitals in town. Yes. And now here was Dr. Richard Vitter opining on the best course of action to take with the man, his friend, lying just down the hallway, hooked to three dozen wires and six dozen tubes.

Ben wanted to ask him if he even recognized his father amidst it all. Ben certainly didn’t. Far from the tall, suave man he had always known as his father, this man, the one lying in the bed, looked bony and weak and frail. Even the perpetual tan from trips to Florida had evaporated, replaced by a sick white hue that scared Ben to death.

Dr. Vitter continued laying out the options, but Ben could not keep his mind on them. This should be someone else, someone who knew what they were doing. What were they thinking naming him next of kin to anyone? He didn’t know how to be next of kin. He didn’t know what to do. He was having a hard enough time not completely freaking out. And yet, here they were—not asking his opinion but for his decision.

“
And what if we don’t… do the surgery?” he heard himself ask, presumably to fill the silence he had realized had descended on the room.

“
Well, we could keep him alive indefinitely on the life support, but I do not believe he will ever wake again without some form of intervention.”

“
And if he does… wake again?” Ugh. Just getting the words out was horrible. “What then?”

Dr. Vitter’s gaze slipped to the pen in his hand. “I expect there will be quite a bit of paralysis, drastic loss of speech and coordination, although I cannot give you any idea of percentages. There’s just no way to know with something like this.”

“
Will he ever…?” Ben cleared his throat and shifted in the chair. “I mean can he ever… be like he was… before?”

The pause answered the question for the good doctor. “We’re doctors, Ben. We’re not God. We do what we can based on what the family thinks is best, and then we deal with that. Do I think your father will ever be who he was on Thursday night? No. Can he come back from this in some form? Possibly.” He took a long breath. “I’ve ordered one more scan for this evening. I’m hoping we’ve missed something, but right now, we’re looking at almost certain paralysis, speech impairment if it comes back at all, severe mental issues if we could even prolong his life, and if he were to wake up after we do. This is not a perfect solution, but in this situation, unfortunately, there just isn’t a perfect solution.

“
I suggest that you give yourself some time to think about what your father would want in this situation, what he would tell you to do, pray about it, talk it over with some of your loved ones. We’ll talk again tomorrow and see where we are.”

Ben nodded. Why, he didn’t know. He stood because the doctor did, and he shook his hand because he knew he was supposed to. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“
You’re welcome.” But there was real sadness in the doctor’s eyes.

Like he was a zombie, Ben walked out of the office and down the hall. He hated this place. Strange how he had walked these halls most of his life but he had never seen them like this. Never.

On either side of him, patient doors stood in various states of open and closed. Beeps and quiet conversations emanated from beyond them. He wondered what they were talking about. Were they having the same conversation he was having in his head? The one in which the options swirled with no real place to land? Were they considering who to call and what to say?

Each breath brought with it the very real possibility of tears, and he hated that. He’d never been weak like this. He was always the positive one, the one who didn’t let little stuff get him down. Granted this wasn’t so little, but the principle was the same. In the waiting area, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed the only number he knew.

Leaning forward, he put his elbows on his knees and pressed the bridge of his nose into his fingertips. “Hey, Kell. What’s up?”

“
I was starting to get worried, man. Where’ve you been?”

“
Trying to survive this nightmare.”

“
So things aren’t any better?”

“
Uh. No. And if my discussion with Dr. Vitter is any indication, I don’t think we’re going to find better either.” Because he knew Kelly would listen and because he so needed to give voice to the disparate thoughts in his head, Ben started at the top and outlined every detail he could remember. When he came to the end of the details, all he wanted to do was scream at the absurdity that it was him sitting here, saying these things.

“
So what’re you going to do?” Kelly asked, and the fear and concern were evident in his voice.

“
I don’t know. I really don’t, man. I hate the thought of him laying there like a vegetable forever. He wouldn’t want that. But how do you make a decision like that? How do you say, ‘I think it’s better if he dies’? God, that even sounds horrible.”