Page 48 of Don't Go
I sat very still. "Okay."
"He hasn't spoken since last night. He won't open his eyes. It feels like — it feels like his soul is leaving him slowly. The doctors are telling us to start preparing."
"Preparing?"
"For after."
I didn't ask her whataftermeant. I knew what it meant. "Okay, Mom."
"Are you coming over?"
I closed my eyes.
I had a date.
I had a child I'd been excited to see, a wrapped book on the kitchen counter I'd been thinking about for days, and theprospect of this aquarium with Sabrina tucked away like a coupon I was finally going to spend.
"Beau."
"Yeah?"
"Are you coming?"
I pictured the room — the blue light from the TV, my father's face thinner than the last time I'd seen it, Mom in the chair with the cardigan on the wrong way around. I pictured walking in and my father not opening his eyes when I called him.
I couldn't. I just wasn't strong enough to take it. "Mom, I have a thing today. I'll be there tonight."
"Beau — "
"I'll be there. I promise."
I sat on the edge of the bed for a while after the call ended.
I told myself, with what was left of my charm running, that I was doing this for them. The kid was excited. Sabrina had — against her better judgment — said yes. The book I got as a gift for Bonnie was right there on the counter, wrapped in brown paper, but I knew I was lying.
I was going because the aquarium wasn't the hospital, and I needed to be in a room where I didn't have to witness my dad disappearing slowly. I needed to breathe.
I got dressed and went.
I pulled up early at her building and sat in the car. The book was on the passenger seat, wrapped in brown paper because I'd run out of nicer paper, tied with a red ribbon I'd practiced the knot on four times. I'd picked it up at the bookstore on Baker and Fourth before my mother's call had pulled the morning out from under me.
I waited until I was almost not early anymore. I went up.
Sabrina opened the door.
She was in jeans and a soft gray sweater I hadn't seen on her, and her hair was down — loose, long, dark curls past hershoulders, the first time I'd seen it down at all — and the sight of her struck a chord somewhere deep in my chest and left it ringing.
She looked like a person who could push the hospital out of my head.
Bonnie appeared at her elbow. Yellow hoodie with a pocket on the front, jeans, and sneakers I hadn't previously seen. Her ponytail was tied neatly.
She looked up at me. "Hi."
"Hi, Bonnie."
"Are we going?"
"In a minute. I have something for you first."
