Page 5 of Stay With Me

“It’ll be okay.” Mom strokes her hand up and down Marissa’s back. “He’s a fighter.”

We wait for what feels like hours before a doctor emerges. William and Marissa walk over, desperate for good news.

Standing, I inch closer so I can overhear their conversation.

“Is he okay?” Marissa asks.

“Unfortunately, he lost a lot of blood. We don’t know how long he went without oxygen, so we did a PET scan after the CT, and the results are concerning. He’s on life support to help him breathe, but I’m afraid he won’t be able to survive without it.”

“What?” Marissa shrieks and my knees threaten to give out.

“He’s brain dead?” William stutters. “Is that what you’re tellin’ us?”

The doctor’s gaze lowers for a moment before they make eye contact. “I’m so sorry.”

My throat burns as I swallow down the lump that’s preventing me from inhaling. Everything freezes around me once I take in his words. His diagnosis.

It’s wrong. He’swrong.

“He’ll wake up,” I say defiantly. “Billy will wake up, and he’ll be fine. Just watch.”

“Is it possible?” Marissa asks the doctor. “Is there a chance he could wake up and be okay? Maybe his brain just needs time to heal. It’s still early. Right?” Her anxious voice echoes across the room.

My parents approach me from behind as the floor threatens to flip me upside down. Dizziness and blurry eyes take over my senses, revving up my panic.

“There is always a chance. Of course, miracles do happen. But in Billy’s case…”

“Don’t say it,” I spit out. Billy isn’t a statistic. He’s going to open his eyes and prove the doctor wrong. I know it.

“I’m so sorry,” the doctor murmurs.

“Can we see him?” William asks.

“Of course. One of the nurses will bring you back.” He nods once before exiting from the same direction he entered.

After a few minutes, a woman approaches and leads us through the emergency doors. She explains that he’s in the ICU and we need to prepare ourselves. Before I can ask what that means, I look through the glass door and see for myself.

He’s hooked up to machines and bandages cover his head where the glass cut him. We stand around his bed in silence.

“We gave him a dose of pain meds so he can’t feel anything. We’ll keep him comfortable until a decision is made.” The nurse’s reassuring voice does nothing to dim the ache penetrating my chest.

The decision is we wait until he wakes up.

“Thank you,” William says after she excuses herself.

Marissa takes Billy’s hand and cries, keeping her focus on his face. My parents stand next to me as I stare at my best friend,who’s never looked this quiet and calm before. He’s pale, but when I touch him, his skin is warm—a contrast to how he felt just hours ago in the middle of the road.

“How am I supposed to let you go?” Marissa sobs and my mother comes over to comfort her. William stands emotionless as if he can’t wrap his mind around what’s happening.

Me neither if I’m being honest.

After half an hour, the nurse returns and offers blankets to anyone who wishes to stay. There’s a couch and recliner on the other side of the room, but I won’t be able to sleep.

How can I when my best friend is dying?

A week later, hundreds of people show up at Billy’s funeral.

His friends and family give speeches, praising him for his kind heart and willingness to help anyone in need.