He slides to the edge of his chair, grabbing my hand, kissing my knuckles. Not once do his eyes meet mine.
“Max got into a wreck leaving the hospital two nights ago.” He pauses, swallowing hard, still avoiding my eyes. “He didn’t want to leave the hospital the entire week you were in and out of consciousness. I told him he couldn’t stay in the room with us—that he had to wait in the waiting room if he was going to stay. I…blamed him—told him it was his fault that you’d passed out and for putting the idea to travel to Paris in your head.”
“God, John,” I breathe.
“I know,” he whispers, his thick hair falling to his forehead when his head drops. “I’m sorry, Shannon. I was just so pissed that he was here with you. It hurt me to know that.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, he um…he finally left two nights ago. Dr. Monroe said she recommended he go and get some rest. Two hours later, Dr. Monroe came back into this room and told us Max had been rushed to the ER.”
I gasp, and Tessa finally drops her hands and sucks in a breath, standing from the sofa to meet me at my side. She sits on the edge of the bed and rubs my back.
“Is he okay?” I manage to ask.
“He’s not okay,” John murmurs. “When he crashed a, um…a pole got lodged in the tip of his spine. Dr. Monroe says it struck the stem of his brain. The crash was so bad that he broke twenty bones. His legs were crushed and basically obliterated by the impact. She says he may never walk again.” John looks up. Tessa sobs silently, shaking as she clings onto me.
“But he is okay, right? He’s fine? He’s alive?” Hope. I need hope.
“He is alive, yes.” Sweet relief. Thank God! “But,” John continues, and my relief is washed right away in an instant. “He is not okay, Shannon. Max has been considered brain dead. His lungs are still working, his heart is still beating, but that’s only because of the life support. His brain has given no response and the doctors think it never will at this point.”
“Oh my God,” I whimper, and there’s a crack in my chest, widening with each breath. “A-are you serious? Please. Please tell me this isn’t for real.”
“This is serious,” Tessa whimpers. “Eugene is here now. He got here this morning.”
“Eugene?” I turn my head to meet her damp eyes.
“He’s next of kin. He will decide whether to pull the plug or not.”
The plug? No. No, this can’t be happening.
“No! I—I have to see him!” I start to hyperventilate, wishing my lungs would fucking give out on me right now so I can pass out again and not think about all of this. “This—no! No, this can’t be happening. Max has to be okay. He has to! I was the one who was supposed to die, not him! I’m the one who’s supposed to leave this world, not him! I’d finally come to peace with that! Where is he?” I demand.
“Three floors up,” Tessa whispers.
“Well, I have to go see him! I can’t just sit here. I have to go!” I start to peel off the tape that is connected to the IV in my hand, but John grabs my wrist before I can take it out. “John. Let me go! I have to see him! You don’t understand!”
“I understand that you care about him, but you can’t go yet. Not while you’re still healing. He will still be here, I’m sure. Tessa told his uncle that you’d want to see him before he makes a decision.”
I watch his eyes for several seconds, my vision blurring. I then snatch my gaze away, covering my mouth and dropping my line of sight. “I can’t…I can’t believe this.”
“There is something else you should know,” Tessa says.
“What? What more could there be?” I snap. I’m pissed. And hurting, and I feel suffocated. My chest feels so tight, my body full of raw, ugly emotions.
“The woman’s lungs they donated to you…she was a result of the crash Max was in.”
I peer into her eyes and I swear my heart drops to the pit of my stomach. “What?”
“A city bus hit Max. Totaled his car. The cops told Eugene the impact was strong because Max was most likely speeding. From what witnesses were saying, Max’s car flipped a total of six times before it stopped. During one of those flips, the car hit a woman. She, apparently, was walking home from work.”
The tears have free-fallen now, streaming down my face. I shut my eyes, imagining a poor woman being trampled by a flipping car. I imagine Max, and how terrified he must’ve been while it all happened.
How is this my life?