Sybil at Sixteen (13 page)

“Megs,” Sybil called, and Meg came out of the kitchen and looked at the officers.

“Yes?” she said. Sybil always remembered how young Meg looked just then, how trusting.

“Margaret Sebastian?”

“Yes.”

“I'm afraid we have some bad news ma'am,” the older officer said. “Your husband was in an accident.”

“Nicky?” Meg asked.

“Nicholas George Sebastian,” the officer said. “His car skidded off the road. I think you'd better come with us, ma'am. We need to take you to the hospital.”

“How is he?” Sybil asked.

“It's very bad,” the younger officer said. “Please, get your things, and we'll take you to the hospital.”

“I have bread in the oven,” Meg said. “I have to take it out. I was baking it for Nicky, and now there's no need. You're here to tell me he's dead.”

“Megs!” Sybil cried.

Neither police officer denied it. “I'll take the bread out,” the younger officer said. “Get your raincoats and your bags, and we'll take you to him right away.”

C
HAPTER
N
INE

“I'm very sorry to have to discuss this with you before you've even seen him,” the doctor said. “I know you must be numb with shock.”

Sybil looked at the doctor. She was in her twenties, and she did look genuinely sorry. Sybil wondered if Thea would be called on to make similar speeches when she finished medical school.

“Your husband, Nicholas, is brain dead,” the doctor said. “The trauma to his head was massive. However we have him on life-support machines, machines that are keeping his heart pumping, so that, if you consent, we can harvest his organs for donation to people in desperate need of them.”

“What?” Meg asked. Sybil shook with silent laughter.

“His heart, his kidneys, his liver, his corneas, even his skin can all be used by others,” the doctor said. “People who've suffered for years from degenerative conditions, whose only hope of survival is through transplants. Your husband's death will not have been in vain if only you'll give your consent.”

“I don't know,” Meg said. “I'll have to ask Nicky.”

The doctor looked at Sybil, who had just barely controlled her laughter. “Are there any other family members you might call?” she asked. “Your mother's parents, perhaps, or her sisters or brothers?”

“I'll call Claire,” Sybil said. “I tried her this morning, but she was in the shower.” She realized the doctor didn't need to know that, but the words were already out. “I need change,” she said. “Claire lives in New York.”

The doctor got out her change purse and handed it to Sybil. Sybil never forgot that gesture. It kept her going for quite a while. “Take what you need,” the doctor said. “You can leave it for me at the desk. I'll take your mother now to see your father.”

“Thank you,” Sybil said. The change purse felt heavy. She wondered if the doctor harvested dimes and quarters for these situations, but she wasn't about to ask.

She found a pay phone by the elevator bank, and sat down to make her call. Claire's number came automatically to her, and she put in the requisite amount of change. She prayed Claire would answer the phone herself, and she did, on the fourth ring.

“Yes,” Claire said. Sybil wondered when she'd stopped saying hello.

“This is Sybil,” she said. “I'm calling from the hospital. Nicky seems to be dead.”

“What?” Claire said. “Sybil, are you all right?”

“No,” Sybil said. “I mean, I'm fine, and Megs is fine, but Nicky's dead and they want his organs and I don't know what to do.”

“Tell me what happened,” Claire said. “And then I'll tell you what to do.”

“Nicky went to Revere,” Sybil said. “To look at some property. His car skidded on the road, and he hit a tree head-on, and there was massive trauma, and now he's on life-supports so they can harvest his organs. Do you think Linda would like a kidney? We're having a sale on them.”

“Who else knows?” Claire asked.

“No one,” Sybil said. “Who was I supposed to call? Nicky's father?”

“Oh, lord,” Claire said. “You're sure he's dead?”

“I haven't seen him,” Sybil said. “Megs is seeing him now. The doctor said she'd take Megs to see him while I called you, but it doesn't matter, because he's dead. Some machine is pumping for him. He was alive this morning. We took a walk. He didn't tell me he was going to Revere. Megs did. He said he loved all of us. He said you loved him, too, even if you wouldn't admit it.”

“Sybil, stop that!” Claire said. “I have to think, and I won't be able to if you make me cry.”

“I haven't cried yet,” Sybil said. “I laughed when the doctor told us about organs. I still think it's funny.”

“You may have a point,” Claire said. “All right. Here's what we have to do. You tell Megs to agree to the organ transplants. She'll regret it forever if she doesn't. Tell her it's what Nicky would want.”

“Do you think so?” Sybil asked.

Claire was silent. “Probably not,” she said. “But it'll give Megs something to feel good about later. Tell her they have to wait until we can all get there, so we can say good-bye to him. It'll kill Thea if she doesn't have that chance, and we can be there in a few hours. They'll just have to wait that long.”

“Should I call Thea now?” Sybil said. “The doctor gave me a lot of change.”

“No,” Claire replied. “I'll go over and tell her in person. She'll be very angry. It'll be better if she takes it out on me. You call Clark, and tell him to have his chauffeur waiting to pick us up at the airport. He might as well go straight to the hospital to be with Megs. Who knows? He might even be helpful to her.”

“What about Evvie?” Sybil asked. “She's on Long Island with Sam.”

There was another silence, until the operator asked for some more coins. Sybil fed them into the machine. She had an image of Nick's organs being kept alive by dimes and quarters. She wished he were there so she could tell him.

“When you call Clark, ask him for two things,” Claire said. “First, ask him to call Scotty. It'll be good for Thea if he's around. Just Scotty, all right?”

“Right,” Sybil said. “Does Clark know about Nicky's father?”

“I don't think so,” Claire said. “And this isn't the time to find out. Then ask Clark for his telephone credit card number. Use it to track down Evvie. She might be back from the funeral, at Sam's grandmother's house. Hold on a second, I have that number. Here it is. Five-one-six-five-five-five-four-two-three-two. You got that?”

Sybil located paper and pencil in her bag and wrote the number down. “I have it,” she said.

“If Evvie isn't there, somebody will know how to reach her,” Claire said. “Track her down and fast. Sam was planning to leave right after the funeral for San Diego, and Evvie was thinking of going with him. She told Thea. But she can't do that. Megs'll collapse if she doesn't have Evvie.”

“So I call Clark, get his credit card number, ask him to call Scotty, and then I find Evvie,” Sybil said. “And I tell Megs to agree to the transplants, but not until we've all gotten there, so we can say good-bye to Nicky. Right?”

“Right,” Claire said. “I'll tell Thea, and we'll take the next shuttle to Boston. What hospital are you at?”

“Boston General,” Sybil replied. “Should I say goodbye to Nicky now, or should I wait until you get here?”

“Oh, Syb, I don't know,” Claire said. “Now, I guess, unless you can't handle it. I'll be there as soon as I can.”

“I don't believe any of this,” Sybil said. “How could Nicky do it?”

“Do what?” Claire asked, and there was an edge in her voice that frightened Sybil.

“Die,” Sybil said. “How could he die?”

“Easily,” Claire said. “Same way he did everything else. Now let me get off the phone, and you start making your other calls. Does Megs know where to find you?”

“I guess so,” Sybil said. “If she's with Nicky, it doesn't matter.”

“Oh, God,” Claire said. “How is Megs going to survive this?”

“Claire, please,” Sybil said.

“You're right,” Claire said. “Make your calls. We'll be there as soon as we can.”

Sybil hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment. She could recall a dozen times when Clark had come through for them, with a loving gesture or a perfect birthday present or just a phone call that made Meg laugh. This wasn't so different.

She put in a quarter and dialed the number. A servant answered, but then Clark got on the line.

“Nicky died,” Sybil said. “I need your telephone calling number.”

“What?” Clark said, and Sybil realized her approach hadn't been too smooth.

“There was an accident,” she said. “His car crashed. We're at Boston General, just Megs and me. I called Claire, and she's going to tell Thea, and then they'll take the shuttle back here. Could you ask your chauffeur to meet them at the airport?”

“Of course,” Clark said. “And I'll come to the hospital right away.”

“Thank you,” Sybil said. “Megs'll be grateful. Claire also asked if you could call Scotty. She thinks it'll be good for Thea if he knows.”

“No problem,” Clark said. “What about my phone card number?”

“I need to track down Evvie,” Sybil said. “It may take a couple of calls. It'll be easier with a credit card.”

“Certainly,” Clark said. He dictated a string of numbers to Sybil, who wrote them down on her sheet of paper. “I'll be at the hospital in fifteen minutes,” he said. “Then I'll send my chauffeur to the airport. How is Meg holding up?”

“She doesn't understand yet,” Sybil said. She noticed her stomach was starting to clench, and the pain in her legs was worse than it had been in years. Obviously, she was beginning to understand. “Thank you, Clark. I'll see you in a few minutes.”

She hung up the phone and wished she could throw away the entire day, the entire week, possibly even her entire life. She wished she didn't have to be the one to tell Evvie. She wished she were dead alongside Nick, that she had died four years before when the car had hit her. She wished she were home alone, free to weep, free to be comforted by Nick. She wished she could be as young as she had been just a few days before.

But Nick had told her she was brave, and she knew she had to prove him right. So she used Clark's number, and called Sam's grandmother's house.

“They're still at the funeral parlor,” a woman there said.

“I have to have that number,” Sybil said. “There's a family emergency.”

“Hasn't this family suffered enough?” the woman asked, and Sybil wanted to say no, it hadn't, that there was more suffering on the way, but she couldn't. She waited while whoever she was speaking to got out the number, and then she took it down, thanked the woman, and dialed again.

For a moment, Sybil forgot Sam's last name. He seemed to have so many, but without the right name, she knew she couldn't find his grandfather. Then she remembered. It was Greene. His grandfather was Dr. Greene. “I'm trying to reach the people at Dr. Greene's funeral,” she said to yet another stranger. “It's a family emergency.”

“The service is still in process,” the woman said. “Could you wait a few more minutes?”

“No,” Sybil said. “This takes precedence.”

“Very well,” the woman said. “Who do you need to talk to?”

Sybil thought for a moment of asking for Sam. Let him tell Evvie. She was siding with him about everything, anyway. Why should he get away with not telling her?

But Sybil knew she couldn't do that. She'd done enough to Sam lately, enough not to add this to his list of burdens. “I have to speak to Evvie Sebastian,” she said. “She's Sam Greene's fiancée. Tell her it's her sister, Sybil, and that it's imperative I speak to her.”

“Very well,” the woman said. “Hold on for a moment.”

So Sybil did. She wondered how Meg was doing, but she realized if Meg was with Nick, it was better for her to be alone. She probably had a lot of things she needed to say to him. Sybil knew she did, although she couldn't remember what they were.

It took close to five minutes before Evvie got on the line. “What is it?” she asked. “This had better be really important, Sybil.”

Sybil hoped her words would hurt Evvie forever. “Nicky's dead,” she said. “Is that important enough for you?”

“That's a very sick joke,” Evvie replied. “And I don't have time or patience for jokes.”

“There was an accident,” Sybil said. “His car skidded off the road. We're at Boston General, Megs and me. He's brain-dead. I haven't seen him yet. I told Claire and Clark, and Claire's going to tell Thea, but she said for me to tell you. I'm not joking, Evvie. You have to come here right away.”

“He's dead?” Evvie asked. “Really dead?”

“He's on life-support systems,” Sybil said. “They want to use his organs for transplants. Except for that, he's dead.”

“What a son of a bitch,” Evvie said, and then she laughed.

“Evvie, are you all right?” Sybil asked.

“No,” Evvie said. “I'm nowhere near all right. I was going to go with Sam to San Diego.”

“You can't,” Sybil said. “Claire says you can't. She says Megs will need you too much.”

“I'm not about to listen to Claire for moral guidance,” Evvie declared. “I don't know what I'm doing. You're really sure he's dead, and this isn't just some kind of stunt to get me there for a big reconciliation scene?”

“The police officers said he was dead,” Sybil replied. “The doctors said he was dead. You want to talk with them?”