~~~Four Years Earlier~~~
"We're losing." Mr. Maxwell says.
These are the last words I need to hear right now.
Quickly, I finish drying off and slide my pants and shirt on and run out of the bathroom.
"Did you hear me, Toby?" He says.
I look at him, hesitate, then nod. I run into my room and close the door. My legs stretch out on the bed as I turn my TV on with a flick of my finger. It turns, out of the wall and right side up, screen facing me. The TV is already turned to a news station.
"-reports are flooding in: America is losing the war. Not just the battles, they're saying but the whole war. Ever since China and Russia teamed up they've dominated the war so far. The president is speaking up today for the second time this week to address the-"
A knock interrupts and I quickly shut the TV off. I don't even get a chance to respond before the door opens and Mr. Maxwell's head pops in.
"Hey," He says.
"Hey," I say.
He enters and takes a seat next to me on the bed. He gulps and take looks at me.
"So, uh... I just wanted to let you know, I'm not mad at you, it-uh... had to happen sometime right? You know, getting a heart donor and everything and-um... it's probably best too. She, she'll be okay now and we won't have to worry about her heart now, right? I mean-" Mr. Maxwell shakes his head to rid the tears, but they come anyways and he buries his head in his hands and begins to rock back and forth.
It takes a few minutes of comforting, but he finally calms down enough to speak again.
"I'm sorry, Toby. I hate for you to see me like this. You and her are the only ones I have left since Ronni died and I don't want to lose Harmony too."
"I don't either." I reply. Honestly, I don't know what to say. It's still my fault, though. She could die any minute. Right now, though, she's at the hospital. It's the night after she got trampled, the nurses and staff promised to take care of her. Valerie's husband though, did not make it through the night. I hear he died rather of old age, than the pnuemonia. That was something I never expected, honestly.
Mr. Maxwell inhales and exhales slowly. The bags under his eyes are highlighted by the light shining down on him. We sit there for a long, long time it seems until he bows his head and says, "Me either." With that and an exasperated sigh, he stands up to leave. The door shuts quietly behind him. I hug my knees to my chest and watch my hair fly in the breeze coming from my opened window-which I never shut. Eventually I leave and go to the kitchen to eat.
As I walk to the kitchen, I happen to pass Mr. Maxwell in a chair clutching two boxes. He holds them gently, as if they were newborn children and extremely fragile. One is a white color and looks plastic and the other is the same but smaller. They are placed in his lap and he lovingly caresses them with his fingertips. I see shiny streaks running down his stubbly chin, and drops of tears falling onto his t-shirt.
I stop in my tracks. "Are-are you okay?" I ask, barely breathing. Mr. Maxwell doesn't respond, but he lifts his head as if to acknowledge me.
I walk over to where he sits on the couch and sit next to him. My stomach gurgles hungrily but I ignore it.
Mr. Maxwell doesn't turn to me when he begins to speak, "Toby, I have kept a secret from you-and from Harmony." He gulps and closes his eyes. I glance over and see the boxes, one is carefully labeled, Adult, Ronni Maxwell and a date. The other says, Infant, Derek Maxwell.
