Broken (34 page)

The sun shone above us from a clear blue sky when we
parked the car outside the main building. I stared at the sky and let the sun
warm my face.

The house was a mansion in the wild. Stylish yet raw.
The maid opened the door when we knocked. She showed us into the grand hall. It
was decorated with a hunter's prey. Heads of deer stared at me with empty black
eyes, foxes with open mouths showing teeth just before the final moment. A
stuffed cougar stood in the corner. A cougar much like the one that had
crippled Jim's dad. William grasped onto my leg when he saw all the dead
animals. I stroked his hair.

"Chris!" Jim's voice echoed in the hall as
he came out to greet us. I took his hand and we hugged. Then he looked at
William and paused. Something came over his face, like he was struck by some
reality, by the misfortune of life. He forced a smile, but I noticed the grief
in his eyes as he glanced upon the son he never had. Heather's son.

"This must be little William?" he said and
leaned over to shake his hand.

"Not so little anymore," I said.

Jim kneeled in front of William. "How you look
like your mother," he said.

"Except for the blond curls and blue eyes,"
William said.

Jim was almost tearing up. "Except for
that," he chuckled. "It's incredible. The face, the nose even the
eyes, not the color but something else. Something in them reminds me so much of
your dear mother."

William smiled widely. He loved it whenever people
said he looked like his mother. But very few did, very few saw the resemblance.
Most people said he looked like me. But I saw it too, I saw Heather in him.

Jim rose and stood in front of me. He patted my
shoulder. "It's been way too long," he said.

I nodded. "It has."

"Come on inside. I'll get you something to drink.
Coffee?"

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. My courage was
failing me. I couldn't ask him about Heather while William was standing right
next to me. "Yes please," I said.

"And I'd bet you would like a soda, right
William?" Jim asked.

William nodded eagerly.

We sat in one of the living rooms by the fireplace.
The maid brought coffee, a soda and a plate of cookies. William dove in. Jim
brought out an old cognac. He had lost a lot of weight I noticed. He looked
thinner, almost haggard. He poured the liqueur in small glasses and handed me
one.

"I know it’s early," he said. "But this
deserves a little glass."

I smiled and drank my coffee. Jim sat in a big chair.
He looked like his father holding the glass, turning it, sniffing the cognac’s
aroma before sipping it. His normally dignified look had taken a blow, it had
faded. His eyes shone with desolation. Despair. He finished his drink and then
looked at me.

"So how have you been?" he asked.

"Far? I need to go pee," William suddenly
said.

"Down the hall on your right," Jim said.
"Can't miss it."

"Just call if you need anything, okay
buddy?" I said.

"Sure," he said before he left us.

I lifted my head and stared at Jim. He had poured
himself another cognac. I still hadn't touched mine.

"You never answered my question," he said
and leaned back in the beige sofa. "I asked you how you were. Is
everything all right at home? How is Heather?"

"Let's just cut the crap," I said. "You
know perfectly well why I’m here."

Jim put his glass on the table with a deep sigh. He
hesitated, looked at me again, and then dropped his eyes to the floor.
"I'm sorry," he said.

"Where is she?"

Jim's moist eyes met mine. "She didn't want me to
tell you. Or else I would have. You know that, don't you?"

"Where is she, Jim?" I asked again while
keeping an eye in the direction William had gone. I didn't want him to come out
now.

"I am so sorry ..." Jim's eyes dropped
again.

"What? Why?" My heart was pounding heavily
now. What was he trying to tell me here? Why did he keep saying he was sorry?

"I should have called you. She made me promise to
not do it. But I knew you'd want to say goodbye ... before she ... The doctor
says she will not ..."

Jim paused and glanced at the stairs where the bedroom
was. Where she was. I got a clear picture from his thoughts.

"She won't last through the night," I said.
My voice was dull almost like a murmur.

Jim shook his head. "Her lungs are caving
in," he mumbled. "She is out of strength. She’s hardly awake at all
during the day. She’s in a tremendous amount of pain. The doctor keeps her on a
heavy dose of morphine. There is nothing more we can do. I have been up all
night debating with myself what to do. I couldn't let her die without
contacting you. But again how can I deny a dying woman her only last wish? How
could I break my promise to her?" Jim was sobbing now. "I love her
goddammit. It's just not fair!"

I got up and went towards the stairs and stared up.
She was up there in that bedroom. I felt paralyzed. I couldn't move or speak.
She was up there and she was really dying. It wasn't just words or a thought or
something that might happen in the near future. This was real. This was
now.
 
I had come too late.

All the small sounds surrounding me, Jim's crying, his
thoughts, the wind blowing outside, the cicadas; everything became a hum in the
background, irrelevant noise. I felt the room spinning and thought I was about
to fall when something grabbed my hand. I looked down. It was William. The
sight of him gave me my strength back.

"Come," I said to him and pulled his hand.
"We're going to see Mommy."

William gasped with a small shriek. "Mommy's
here?" He asked with a shrill.

"Yes," I said and held his hand tighter.
"She is upstairs in one of the bedrooms. She has been here all the
time."

William's eyes grew huge. "So I can see her?
Here? Today?"

"No!" Jim suddenly exclaimed. He got up from
the couch and walked towards us, limping on his prosthetic leg. "I’m
sorry. But I can't let you go in there. I promised her that. She didn't want
you to see her this way. She wanted you to remember her like she used to be. Before
she became sick. I can't break my promise to her. I just can't do it."

"But Jim ..."

"No," he continued. "You listen to me.
I know what it is like. I know what it feels like to want to hide from the
world. My dad lived his last years and died in the library in this house. He
never left the room after the accident that crippled him. He was too ashamed to
be seen by us, by his own family. I've been through it as well. When I lost my
leg I didn't want anyone to see me either. It's Heather's dying wish to hide. Let
her at least have that. Let her die with her dignity intact."

I exhaled deeply. "Jim. You're my best friend and
I have the deepest respect for you and your family and all your history. But up
there lies my wife and William's mother. He has the right to see her one last
time and so have I. So I am going to go in there now and you can't stop me.
Shoot me if you want to - I'm going."

Jim dropped his head with a sigh. I turned and took
William's hand. We walked up the stairs in silence.

Chapter 41

The hallway
leading to
the bedroom seemed endless. I held
William's hand tight in mine. Just before we opened the door I kneeled before
my son.

"This will not be easy, buddy," I said and
swallowed hard to remove the lump of tears growing in my throat. "Remember
that Mom is really sick and she might not look like Mom used to, okay? She
might look very sick and feel really bad, okay?"

He nodded with great seriousness. "I know,
Far."

"She might not be able to speak or even look at
you. Are you prepared for that?"

He nodded again. "Yes. I just want to see
her."

I closed my eyes for a few seconds and took in a
couple of deep breaths before I put my hand on the handle and turned the knob.

We went into the dark room and closed the door behind
us. The scent of medicine and human decay hung in the air. It mingled with the
sound of her thoughts that I could now hear clearly in my mind. She was
dreaming. Tears piled up behind my eyes. She was dreaming about William. She
was holding him, hugging him, running with him, playing, laughing. She wasn't
afraid; she was in a safe place. There was no sign of terror in her face.

She seemed so calm as we approached her in the dark
purple light coming from underneath the heavy curtain. A small night lamp was
lit in the corner but gave almost no light to the room. Her eyes were closed,
her mouth covered with a breathing mask, tubes attached to monitors. She was so
tiny, so thin. Her long blond hair framed her pale face making her look like a
porcelain-doll. I could see all of her veins through the skin on the arms that
were over the covers. If her chest hadn't moved every now and then I would have
assumed she was already dead.

We moved closer to her and William reached out and
touched her face gently with his fingertips. His eyes were brave as he spoke to
her with a small still voice.

"Mom? Can you hear me? It's me. It's William. I
have come to see you. We finally found you."

He looked up at me like he wanted me to do something,
make her answer, make her talk to him. Tears were running down my cheeks. I put
my arm around William's shoulder and pulled him closer. He was crying now too.
I kneeled beside him. I grabbed Heather's colorless hand and caressed it with
my fingers. I thought about all those things I wanted to say, that I wanted to
ask her.
What happened to us? How could we have let this
happen? I am sorry for not having done more for you. I should have been there
more, I should have done more, I should have stopped you, somehow ...
But it was too late for all of that. Instead I kissed her hand.

"I know you don't believe me," I said.
"But I did love you. I loved you a lot."

I felt William's arm around me. Then we broke into
tears and cried in silence for a long time. Finally we let go of all the pain
and agony.

"I want to stay here
tonight," William said later. We were in two chairs that the maid had
brought into Heather's room for us. William was lying with his head in my lap.
We had been watching Heather for hours hoping in case she woke up. "Can we
do that, Far? Can we stay here all night?"

"I don't think so, buddy."

"I really want to."

"Why?"

"Cause I want to be here when she wakes up."

I sighed deeply. "She might not wake up again,
buddy," I said with heavy voice. "I think it is time we say goodbye
to her."

"No!" he exclaimed. William sat up and
looked at me. "Don't you see it? She is just sleeping. Just like Snow
White remember? Everybody thought she was dead too but then the prince kissed
her and she woke up." William was crying again now. Tears were rolling
down his cheeks. "All you need to do is kiss her, Far."

I shook my head while crying. "No son. It's over.
Listen to me. This is real. Your mother will not make it through the night, the
doctor said. She is going to die. Look at her. She is already gone. She is
already dead, William. I am so sorry but that's the way it is. I can't do
anything to help her. I really want to believe me, but I can't."

I stopped and gasped. I was almost hyperventilating.
It broke my heart having to tell him this. But he needed to know the truth. I
had let him believe this fairy-tale for too long. I hated myself as I saw hope
slowly ooze out of my son. It left nothing but despair on his young face.

"But Far ...?"

"I am so sorry, buddy. I am so terribly
sorry." I cried and thought about my own mother. She had looked just like
that before she died. I remembered trying to stay up all night the night she
died, fighting the heavy eyelids until I gave in to the demanding spirit of
sleep. I fell asleep and when I woke up she was gone. My dad was crying at her
side. I remembered the desperation, the despair of having failed to stay awake
in these last crucial minutes of her life. The remembrance of that feeling
changed something inside of me as I stared at Heather. A sort of shift took
place. I somehow regained a hope, and in that same instant, I made up my mind.