a million different things I could have done that day

Chapter 15

Carson

"I killed her," Carson continued. "I mean, not literally of course, but I was the one who finally switched off her life support. So, in a way, I did it. I killed her."

"Carson...If you don't want to-talk about it, I mean- you don't have to. There's no pressure."

He wiped his cheeks with the sleeve of his shirt. "I don't know. Maybe the reason I can't seem to get over it is because I've been keeping it bottle up all this time. The psychologist kept telling me that it would help, but I never listened. Maybe if I just talk to someone, acknowledge what happened, it'll be easier to accept it and move on."

My heart ached for him. He unwaveringly believed that that was where he's gone wrong. That that was the one mistake he'd made and all he had to do was fix it. But no amount of conversations in the world could heal the pain of his mother's death because that amount of loss is not easily overcome. I've always hated the saying: "Time heals all wounds" but maybe whoever said it knew what they were talking about.

"She had an aneurism," he continued, "An aneurism is-"

"Yeah, I know what that is. Sorry, go on."

He took a deep breath and, with one finger, traced the lines on his palm. "I don't remember it all. I went to school one morning. She was fine. And when I got home, she wasn't. Passed out on the rug in the living room. God, I'll never forget that... I called 911. Started CPR. By the time they got there, she was breathing so they rushed her to the hospital, and then rushed her into surgery. Dad couldn't operate 'cause of the rule about doctors treating their own family members and he picked the wrong person to replace him.

"It was too late to do anything, anyways. An hour or so after the surgery, she was officially declared brain-dead. I remember dad cried for an hour at her bedside. I remember them repeating her wishes of having her organs donated, but dad wouldn't budge. It's what she would have wanted, you know. She wanted us to do for her what she'd been doing when she'd been alive: saving lives. To put her organs up for transplant as soon as she was done using them. I had to do it. I had to let her go. So I told the doctor we were ready even though we'd never be. I said it was okay if she let go even when it would never be okay. I said good-bye even though that's the last thing I wanted to say.

"And I keep thinking, if only we'd known. If only I hadn't gone to school that day because I was sick or missed the bus or anything. If only Dad had been man enough to do what she'd wanted himself. If only we'd known what was about to happen. We could have done a million different things that day, that week, and we wouldn't be where we are now. Maybe mom would still be alive. Maybe we would have had more time with us. But all that happened was one day she was this beautiful person, healthy and alive in every way, and the next day she was gone. Just like that. Gone."

"Carson..." I trailed off, unsure of what to say. What do you say to that? What could you possibly say?

"Yeah, I know. I shouldn't say things like that, it isn't healthy, and I'm just making it worse. Trust me, I've seen all the god damn shrinks in the world."

I looked at him more closely than I ever had. You couldn't tell at first, but under that easy grin, there was always a look of pain. Often times, he'd come to school with dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. No one ever said anything: Not the teachers, not the students, not Michael and his girlfriend, not me. Sometimes, it's best to pretend you never saw something. But it would always be in the back of our heads. Every time he forgot to do his homework or got a low grade on a test, it went through all of our minds. Is he okay? Is he upset? Is there something we can do? It would always be a shadow looming over his every wrong action.

The worst of all was that you could see what it had once been. Every time he said something sarcastic or laughed, you could see the person he had once been. And then he'd stare off into a distance, lost, and you'd think you imagined that joy. Carson was not confused, or angry, or bargaining, or depressed . When you looked at him, you could see it. He was broken.

Sometimes, you see glitter in the pitch black of night, praying that it wasn't a figment of your imagination. Even if Carson saw the glitter, he'd deny its existence. Because to him, the glitter in life is gone, never to be seen again.