Page 71

The dog lifted her head and thumped her tail once, then laid it back down again.
“No.” Ethan jerked, trying to break free from Abby. “No, I need to be with Liam. I need to be with my brother.” His voice rose, broke, crashed, a wave beating itself against the shore, shattering into a million tiny droplets.
“Shh, shh.” His mother reached for him and Abby let him slip into her arms. “Okay. It’s okay. You can stay.”
She turned back to the bed and settled beside Liam, Ethan tucked in her lap.
Abby, too, approached, and laid one hand on Gen’s head, the other on Liam’s shoulder.
“Do you want me to go?”
She shook her head. “No, please stay. Unless you need to...?”
“No, I can stay as long as you need.”
Silence blanketed the room for a time and Ethan, exhausted, drifted off.
Then, Gen lifted her head and whined, high-pitched, on the edge of hearing.
Moments later, the first alarm blared.
Ethan twitched in his mother’s arms as a second alarm beeped. A nurse arrived, followed by another, and soon the quiet room blared with a cacophony of voices and piercing warnings.
Ethan clapped his hands over his ears and cried, “Make it stop. Make it stop.”
Pressing his face into her shoulder, his mother rocked him, then, with an authority at odds with the moment, spoke. “Turn them off.”
The nurses nodded and, while one began resetting and disconnecting each machine, the others filed out. Then, quiet returned, except for Ethan’s hiccupping sobs, muffled in his mother’s shirt.
His father stood gray-faced and still, but Abby didn’t make the mistake of thinking he didn’t care. She’d seen this too many times to judge how another grieved.
“Ethan, it’s time to say goodbye, now,” his mother whispered as she stroked his hair. “We talked about this, remember? Liam can’t keep fighting anymore. His body is ready to give up...” Her voice broke, but she cleared her throat and continued. “Do you still want to stay, or do you want to go with Abby?”
Ethan sniffled, then turned toward his brother and dragged a sleeve across his nose. “I want to stay.”
His mother nodded and, turning, set him on the bed, where he cuddled close beside Liam and took his hand again.
“I love you, Liam,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to his brother’s temple.
Their mother leaned over both of them, holding Ethan’s other hand and resting her own over Liam’s where it still lay on Gen, an unbroken circle. Liam’s father clenched his fists, jaw tight and eyes wet, as he bent over his son’s prone form.
Abby thought back to the first time she’d stood this unthinkable vigil over a body broken beyond recognition. The silent minutes ticking past, alone, scared of what life would be when it finally ended. She studied the little family before her and grieved for what she hadn’t had, then. For what she’d been too proud to accept from those who loved her. For the solace she’d denied herself, wrapped so tightly in her own desolation.
A few moments longer they remained, then Liam thrashed again, coughed, and laid still. His mother locked eyes with Abby, then sobbed once, shaking her head. Lurching toward them, Abby threw her arms around Ethan as he bolted up in the bed, confused and alone for the first time in his life.
“It’s done, Ethan. It’s over, now,” Abby whispered against his ear. “Liam is gone. He doesn’t have to fight anymore.”
Twenty-Nine
ABBY WOKE EARLY, the solid weight of Gen’s warmth behind her knees, and blinked her eyes, still raw and burning. Curling into a tight ball, she blocked out the pain. Her heart had been broken once before and she’d survived it, but, oh, how it hurt.
Rising, she pulled a sweatshirt over her head, then sat back down on the bed and ran a gentle hand down Gen’s spine. The dog lay still.
“Come on, Gen. You need to go out. We need to eat.”
A list of tasks. A purpose. That would help them go on.
At her name, the dog’s lashes fluttered open, revealing dull, gray eyes. She didn’t lift her head; not even her tail thumped against the bedspread.