Through Her Eyes (25 page)

All tests reconfirming the original prognosis . . .

No brain activity.

“Oh God . . . What do we do?” Mr. Stone cried out and the doctor stepped toward him, compassion in his eyes.

“This is ultimately your decision if you would like to keep him on the ventilator, but you need to understand according to the menial standards we live by, he’s dead. There is no hope of recovery.” Parker’s body was here, but he was a vacant shell of what he once was. He would never recover. My heart screamed, that was Parker, my Parker. Not a lifeless body in a bed. It was Parker! But he would not breathe—nor open his eyes—on his own again.

“I won’t kill my baby,” Parker’s mother collapsed onto the floor, her husband beside her.

My chest tightens at the memory. Parker went to a bar after our altercation and, according to witnesses, drank multiple shots, had a few beers, and left. He walked out the door saying he was going to grab a cab back to his place. No one knew why he decided to go back to his parents’ house in Westchester that night, instead of grabbing a cab like he said he would. The questions poured in. Why was he coming home? Why was he drinking? But I knew the answer. It was all because of me.

He went out because of me. He grabbed his car to escape because of me . . . and then never made it. He hadn’t even made it out of the city before colliding straight into a pole.
Head on collision
.

Sadness engulfs me as I remember that night. My breathing shallows. Everything is fuzzy. I feel dizzy. My hand reaches out toward him. To touch him. I fear I’ll pass out from the racing of my heart. It hammers to the point of pain as my small hand makes contact with the soft curve of his jaw.

Even if he’s lying here, I know he died the moment he walked out my door. And although I didn’t put the bottle to his mouth, and even though I didn’t put him behind the wheel and didn’t make him wrap his car around a street pole, I was guilty of his death.

The sound of the machine breathing for him echoes in my ears. It drums like a freight train. The sound of life . . . the sound of death. An involuntary sob tears through my chest. Perhaps if I scream, the anguish inside me will subside, but I have no energy, and it still won’t change that my best friend is dying.

Now when I look at him, words ring over and over again in my head. They run over me, they suffocate me. They drown me.

Parker is gone.

Three words, it’s always been three words.

Parker needs you.

Parker is gone.

Parker needs you.

Parker is gone.

Over and over and over again.

Three words can change your life.

T
HE SEMBLANCE OF HOPE
that still lived inside me died. I could feel my chest constricting. The doctors gave the news: he would never wake. Neither parent knew what to do. Seconds, days and then weeks passed, but no decision could be made. What would Parker want was asked so many times I lost count. He had no will. He never spoke of his final wishes. What twenty-five-year-old had a will? What twenty-five-year-old imagined that they would be heartbroken, go out to a bar, and then drive their car headfirst into a pole? There was no way to know what he would want. DNR was an option. He could live for years attached to a machine, but what kind of life would that be?

From outside Parker’s room I heard the screaming. Mr. and Mrs. Stone battling on what to do. They had been battling for over three weeks. My chest constricted and bile ran up my throat. The endless arguing made me need to recede into myself and hide. Each time they battled another part of me died. I needed to flee this hell, but I couldn’t leave him. I felt an eternal emptiness in my soul. I had no idea what to do. The one person who could help me make sense of this was no longer able to. My rock wasn’t here, and I couldn’t do this without him. I didn’t know what to do without him.

As I gripped his hand tightly, praying for clarity I heard Parker’s words. The words that lead us here. ‘And that’s why you need to get away.’ And I finally understood how to make it up to him. How to make this right. How to show him I loved him and that all of this had not been for nothing.

“Parker? I know you can’t hear me, but I’m going to do it. I’m going to go. This is all my fault. If I had just said yes. If I’d just admitted the truth to you. We could have gone together. I was too scared and I lied. But I’m going to do it. I’m going to do all of it . . . for you.” I leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Goodbye, Parker. I love you.”

With moisture streaming down my cheeks, I barreled through the cold of the hospital. Through the confusion and chaos in my path. Then my arm hit someone and through misted eyes I looked up and my gaze met cloudy steel orbs. His eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. His arm reached out to steady me, but I didn’t wait for him to help me. I just ran until I was clear of the doors. Suddenly, the patter of giant rain droplets smacked across the pavement. I had stepped out into a torrential downpour. It was only fitting.

I sobbed. I sobbed right alongside the heavens that wept with me. I embraced the release, and in the middle of the parking lot, I let go. Let go of all of it. Picked up the phone and dialed. I knew where I would go. A place where I wouldn’t need to be privy to the fighting. Where I wouldn’t need to hear them weigh out the pros and cons of keeping an empty body in a bed. A place where Parker always said I should go.

Before I knew it, I was on a plane, on my way to honor Parker’s last wish . . . on my way to find me.

“It’s time.” A familiar voice says. Turning toward the sound, I peer through squinted eyes to find Chase standing behind me. I don’t know how he’s here at the hospital with me right now. When he arrived from Italy. How he got here. But I don’t care. All I know is at this very moment, despite everything that has happened, I need him. I need him holding me up. Just as I feel Chase’s hand gently stroke my shoulder, the doctor enters the room with Parker’s parents.

“Are you ready?” the doctor asks Mr. and Mrs. Stone. I want to scream, “No! I’m not ready!” but it’s not my place. They speak, but I can’t hear what they’re saying. I’m too numb to hear. I feel nothing. Time stands still as we wait for the moment to come. The moment a beautiful, bright light will be blown out.

“Parker. Oh God, Parker, please don’t leave me! Please. Please, you can’t go. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry! Please don’t leave me. No, you can’t take him. He can’t leave me,” I mutter through choked sobs.

I lean over to kiss his cheeks. They’re still warm. This can’t be real. This is nothing but a bad dream. He was going to Europe with me. This can’t be the end. We have so many pins left. So many places on the map we haven’t seen yet. Chase speaks in a hushed voice to Parker’s parents, but it’s hard to make out what he says over the pounding of my heart.

I think he asks if they want us to leave. I wish for them to say yes because I can’t be here to see the life leave Parker’s body. But if they say I can stay, that’s right where I’ll be. I will never forgive myself for missing his last breath. I will never forgive myself for missing the moment he went to a better place, the moment he found peace. Mr. Stone shakes his head at Chase and then turns back and nods to the doctor.

“No, they can’t do it yet.” My words are raspy, hushed, and confused.

“Aria—” Chase’s voice breaks through my splintered mind. “His family needs to say good-bye. It’s time.” I shake my head. Barely audible words leave my mouth.

“I . . . I . . . I can’t . . . I can’t, Chase,” I stutter. He touches me. His fingers softly caress my shoulder. My gaze turns toward him, and he nods in understanding. I need to go with him, but I can’t will my feet to move. It’s time, I tell myself. I want so badly to object. To argue that they need to reconsider, but there is nothing to be said. It’s not my place, and it’s not fair for me to interject.

I turn and walk toward the wall, my fingers laced in Chase’s. Mrs. Stone’s whimpering grows fainter with each step I take. Chase pulls me into him, and I bring my face into his chest, leaving the world behind. I hear nothing but the soft thud of his heart beating. Pulling my head from the warmth of his embrace, the sound of the machine rushes back into my conscious. The room is my worst nightmare, sobs and whimpers, and then I hear the hum of the machine. I welcome the hum. It means for this brief second Parker Stone is still alive.

The hum continues as more people enter the room. A group of medical personnel gathers around now, taking final notes. One of them passes a clipboard to Mr. Stone. His hands shake so badly I fear he will drop the pen. My eyes no longer focus. My body seems boneless. I’m using Chase to hold me up. The sounds are still steady. I breathe in. I exhale.

Parker’s chest rises. I memorize the movement, etch it into my memory. I observe as they turn off the ventilator, and I turn away to fight through my tears. This can’t be the last thing I see of him. I try to focus elsewhere, but for some reason I can’t stop looking.

They take out the breathing tube.

Memories begin to flash, one after another.

Beep

The dimple on his cheek when he smiles.

Beep

The small scar he has above his left eyebrow.

Beep

His obsession with Reese’s Pieces.

Beep

The way he would softly say baby girl when I was sad.

Silence

The silence is suffocating.

T
HREE THIRTY-THREE P.M.
I saw the last breath leave his body, and now I stand weighted to the wall as sobs wrack throughout the room. Agony descends upon me. An agony I never thought possible. A part of me died when the machine stopped. The part of me tethered to Parker ceases to exist.

I collapse forward.

I break.

A hand rubs my back. Those hands embrace me. Pull me in. Engulf me.

“He’s gone.” My whole body shakes as I hold on to him and rock in his arms.

“He’s in a better place.” His words come out strangled, as if he’s holding back his own meltdown. Hearing his voice is too much. The pain is palpable, and my knees buckle beneath me.

“I can’t do this. I’m not strong enough.”

“You don’t have to be. I’ll be strong enough for you. I’ll hold you up. I’ll be your strength.” More sobs break. “Shh, it will be okay. Everything will be okay,” he promises, but it does nothing to soothe the ache in my heart. Nothing will be okay. Nothing will ever be okay again. My skull begins to pound as sadness clamps down on me. I can feel Chase lift me up, and what’s left of me snaps like a twig.

“Please don’t make me leave yet,” I beg. I’m petrified my memories will begin to fade. “You can’t make me,” I whisper. I jump out of his lap and push past Chase, who tries to hold me in his arms. Leaning over the bed, I get close to Parker’s lifeless body.

“Please, I can’t remember the last time we laughed. I’m so afraid of my life without you. I stayed away, and I’m so sorry. I lift my hand to touch him. “I’m here. I . . . I’m with you. Park, oh God, Parker. Please, you can’t be gone. You can’t have left me. I’m so, so, sorry.” Warm arms wrap around me, pulling me gently back.