The Last Hour (55 page)

 
“Damn it, Ray. They said you’re …” his face tightened, as he struggled to say the words.

“Brain dead,” he finally burst out. “And ... that this is it. I just needed you to know, that we’ll take care of Carrie for you. I promise you that. If Alex and I have to quit school and
move
to Washington, we’ll do it. No matter what it takes.”

I tried to say something. To reach out to him. To let him know that it was okay. But I just didn’t have the energy. There was nothing left.

He stood up, abruptly, and said, “Ah,
shit!
” He savagely wiped his sleeve across his face, and his voice broke as he said, “I love you, Weed. Christ, I wish it hadn’t ended like this.”

And then he staggered out.

I stared up at the ceiling. That went well, I guess. Jesus Christ.
 

A while later my parents came by. It was a fucking mess, and I was tired. And then the doctors came, and ran a bunch of tests, and muttered amongst themselves, and wrote on notebooks, and I don’t know what all. But I heard one of them loud and clear say, “Brain death is confirmed.”

Well, shit.

It wasn’t long after that, a nurse led Carrie into the room.

She had dark circles under her eyes, and somehow looked both younger and older than she’d ever been. Like a little girl who had lost everything in the world. I wanted to touch her, and tell her I was sorry. I wanted to make everything all right for her. But I couldn’t. That was a choice I guess I’d made too.

She slid over to the bed, and then I almost gasped, because she climbed right up on it, resting her head on my body’s shoulder. And she closed her eyes, and tears started pouring out of them.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t fall apart in here with you,” she said.
 

I took a deep breath. You don’t have to promise that, babe.
 

She wiped her face, then said, “I don’t know how to say goodbye, Ray. I don’t know how to go on from here. But ... there’s some things I need to tell you.”

She opened her eyes, and I looked closely at them. They were bloodshot, but they were her eyes, so swimmingly beautiful it almost hurt.
 

“So … you weren’t there… but the court-martial ended yesterday. And you were acquitted.” She sniffed. “Which is good because… we’re going to have a baby, Ray. I was going to tell you Saturday. I wasn’t for sure yet, and wanted to go with you and get a test ... but you know what happened. So we’re going to have a little boy, or a little girl, and they’re going to grow up without you and I don’t know how to deal with that.”

I shuddered and closed my eyes. Oh, Jesus that made me want to cry. Not for me. But for her. For the life that was in her. I’d have done almost anything ... almost ... to be able to be there for that child and for her. I was going to be a father. It was ... an amazing thought. A terrifying thought. And ... it broke my heart. Because I wasn’t going to be there for that kid, or for Carrie.

She sobbed. “I want to tell you a story. When I was younger, in high school and college, I used to fantasize that one day I’d meet someone who would be ... perfect for me. A soul mate. Someone who treated me like I mattered to them more than anything else. Someone who was a hero, who told the truth, and did the right thing, and who I could live with forever. Someone I loved.”

She sniffed and said, “But it was just that. It was a fantasy. I know life is a struggle. I know ... we don’t always get what we want. And in some ways I had everything I could ask for. A career I love. The best sisters in the world. And then I met you ... and everything was ... perfect. I thought I had my happy ending.”

She closed her eyes, and put her arms around what was left of me, and said, “It’s not fair. It’s not fair that I just found you and I have to lose you. It’s not fair at all. But I’m going to make a couple of promises, Ray. Promises to you, and promises to me.”

She started to shake, hard, her whole body shuddering, and she said, “I promise I’ll be a good mother to our child. I’ll be there for her, and tell her the right things. I’ll listen to her problems and sing her songs at night and I’ll teach her to be strong. I’ll tell her about you. I’ll tell her that her father did the right thing, always. That when it really counted, you told the truth, and you inspired other people to do the right thing too.”

She sobbed and said, “And I promise I won’t be like ... I won’t make her miserable either. I’ll teach her to love you and remember you but not to let it overshadow her life. Because ... I know you wouldn’t do that. You’d want her to be strong.”

She stared up at the ceiling for a minute. “Sarah says she refuses to go back to San Francisco. She’s got this crazy idea in her head that she promised you she’d take care of me, and so she’s staying here when she gets out of the hospital, and Mom is too.” She shook her head. “I almost believe her. About the promise. Because I can almost feel you here. Not in your body, but somehow ... all around.”

Oh, God. I don’t see how Sarah could remember that. But I was glad all the same.
 

She turned, away from the ceiling, and her eyes searched my face again. “The doctors say you aren’t in there any more. I wish you were. I wish ... ”

She closed her eyes, and a gentle, tiny smile formed on her face, and she said again, “I wish.”

Me too, babe. Me too.

Tears were still running out of her eyes. She said, “Do you remember when we went skydiving? I was so scared. Right before we stepped out of that plane, I thought I was going to die if I took another step. But ... you smiled at me, and said I could do it. And ... because you believed in me, I did too. And it was amazing. I touched the sky, and you at the same time. I’ll never forget that. I’ll never forget flying, with our hands touching. And when she’s old enough, I’ll take our little girl, or boy or whatever. I’ll teach them to touch the sky too. I promise.”

I’m not the best person on the world at expressing my emotions. But seriously that was too much. I was crying too, and without thinking I reached out and touched her arm and said, “God, I love you, Carrie.”

She froze, her eyes huge.

There was no way she could hear me.

I didn’t care. I leaned forward, putting my lips to her ears, and I said, “Do what you have to do, babe. I know. I know this is hard, it’s harder for you. But I love you. I’ll always love you. I’ll be thinking about you wherever I am. But you’ve got to make me one more promise. You need to go on with your life. Don’t you dare give up. Don’t fall apart. I want you to be happy, to live a decent, real, happy life. I want you to make it matter, okay? Please? And you tell that little boy or little girl that I love them and I’ll always be watching from wherever I am.”

I know she couldn’t hear me. But she nodded, just once, all the same. And so I leaned close, and I kissed her on the lips, one last time, one last kiss, and I could feel her, right there. I could feel her. Her eyes were closed, and maybe, just maybe, she felt me too.

Then, with a quiet sob, she slipped away.

I closed my eyes. I could feel the sun washing over me, right through the building. I shuddered a little.
 

I heard the doctors talking, then a click, and another click, and for the first time since I’d come in this room the respirator stopped its sound. Then there was a low tone, a long electronic beep, and then someone switched that off too. Then they were gone, and Carrie was back with me. She was holding my hand, tears pouring from her eyes, as she leaned forward and kissed me goodbye.

S
tephanie Hicks came to the funeral.

My
funeral.

I’m not sure I expected that. I’m not sure what I expected. But when Carrie saw her, and they met each other’s eyes, they both burst into tears. And then they were hugging each other and weeping. And I don’t care what anyone thinks, I’m grateful Carrie forgave her and treated her like what she was: just another victim of the war. I’m hoping the two of them will be friends. I think they both need it, and there’s not going to be anyone else under the sun who will understand them the way they’ll understand each other.

My mom and Carrie made some peace with each other. I think Carrie understands Mom was crazy with fear and grief. After my funeral, they sat together for hours, talking and crying. I won’t lie … it was awful to watch it. And I doubt they’ll ever get along well. But they’re tied to each other now, by me, and by the baby growing in Carrie’s body.

My son or daughter. Who I’ll never meet, or hold in my arms. Sometimes I watch Carrie, and even though I know she’s going to be a great mom, it makes me want to break down that I can’t be there for her, with her. That I can’t take some of the load off her shoulders, that I can’t whisper in her ear that it’s all going to be okay.

I’ve been fading away, trying to preserve my strength, because I wanted to have time to see what happened with Carrie. But I don’t think I’m going to have time. I can feel it, every minute. The pressure to close my eyes, and ... move on. To what, I don’t know. But the warmth I feel, every minute or every day, emanating from the sky ... somehow I don’t think it’s going to be so bad.

Being a ghost has its advantages. Once my body died, I was freed a little bit. The pain stopped, and I found myself able to get around a little better. I got to watch as Daniel recovered. Miraculous, his doctors said. When he first woke up, they were predicting brain damage, mobility problems for years. But he seemed to be recovering far better than anyone had anticipated. And I guess if I had to try to balance things out and decide if it was worth it, I’d have to say yes. Because he was smiling and joking with his dad when he left the hospital. And talking about Spiderman.

It was almost four weeks before Sarah got out of the hospital. They closed up her wounds on the fourth day, but a bad staph infection forced them to reopen the leg. They finally got it under control. I was hanging out in her room about a week later when the EMT she molested, Eddie Vasquez, walked in. Sarah’s eyes went wide when he introduced himself. I still don’t know if she remembers anything. But I had the feeling those two were going to see each other again.
 

She isn’t walking yet, and likely won’t be for a good long while. Months maybe. But she kept her promise. She rolls around the condo in her wheelchair muttering obscenities, but she’s been taking care of Carrie. I guess I’ll owe Sarah forever. I still don’t know if there’s a God or anything, but if there is, I plan to put in a good word for her.

Dylan and Alex stayed in town for two weeks. But fall was coming, and they had to get back to New York for classes, and so they went, with Carrie’s urging. I almost had the feeling she was trying to get rid of them. It’s good to have help for grief, but maybe not too much help. And having eight or nine people counted as way too much. So off they went. Julia and Crank headed out a couple days later. Their European tour had been cancelled, so they flew home to Boston. And then Jessica and Ambassador Thompson left so she could be back in San Francisco to start her senior year in high school.

So, in the end, Carrie was left in the condominium with Sarah and her mother.
 

At three months, she was starting to show. Carrie waited almost three weeks before she went back to work. They didn’t give her any trouble over that. I’d have fucking haunted Moore until his brains melted out of his head if they had. But in the end, none of that was necessary.
 

I was waiting for one thing. Because some days it was agony to stick around, to be honest. I don’t know if this is how it’s supposed to work. Somehow I don’t think so, or I’d be hanging out at the ghost social club or something. Except for Sarah and Daniel, I never saw another wandering soul out here. Maybe I was just too stubborn to go on.

Whatever the case, I watched every day. I hung around the apartment, trying to keep from touching or startling anyone, and I watched. Because Carrie was a mess, and I wanted her to be okay.
 

It’s not that she moped around the house. That’s not who she is. Carrie got up and got her ass to work. She got into academic arguments with the other scientists at work (who, by the way, are all dweebs if you ask me), and faced down Moore twice in meetings where he tried to cut her down. But what I never saw was a smile.

Stephanie Hicks came by the condo three or four times. That girl
is
falling apart, blaming herself for my death, and for her husband’s. And the crazy thing is, Carrie’s back up to her usual stuff, taking care of other people. But something’s different now. She’s taking care of herself too. And I’m glad to see that.
 

This morning, Sarah blurted out, “I’ve got to get out of this condo, I’m going batshit.”

Adelina looked at her and said, “Young lady, watch your language.”

And Carrie said, “Well, why don’t we go out somewhere? The zoo?”

Then her face froze. And she realized what she’d said. She looked at Sarah, and Sarah looked at her, and they both nodded.

So here I am, following them as they troop around the National Zoo. Sarah’s got one of those high-speed whiz bang wheelchairs, so she’s not having any problems getting around in it. The other day she actually took a couple of steps, screaming words her mother did not want to hear the whole time.