فصل بیست و یکم

CHAPTER 21

STELLA

I lean against the counter, smiling at Poe as he pulls a freshly baked pie out of the oven, totally in his element. He glances up at me, thick eyebrows raised.

“I wanted to see the master at work.”

He winks at me, taking his oven mitts off, and I watch as he confidently twirls his chef’s knife, deftly slicing the pie into eight even pieces with a flourish.

I clap as he grabs a fresh strawberry and squints. He leans over it, cutting here, snipping there, in absolute and total concentration. He holds it up in his gloved hand after only a few seconds, a big smile on his face. The strawberry is completely transformed into an intricate, beautiful rosette, which he puts on the side of the pie.

My jaw drops open. “Poe! That’s incredible.”

He shrugs casually. “I’ve been practicing for next month when Michael and I visit my mom,” he says, giving me a look that clearly is telling me this is no big deal.

So, of course, I shriek in excitement. Finally!

“Yep,” he says, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re right, Stella. He loves me. And these past few weeks without him have been harder than I could’ve imagined. I love him.” He’s practically radiating joy. “He’s coming for lunch tomorrow. We’re gonna go for it.” I almost tackle him with a hug but catch myself before I can close the space between us and do it. I look at the counter, grabbing a kitchen mitt and putting it on so I can reach out and take his hand in mine.

Tears fill my eyes, and I sniff, shaking my head. “Poe. I’m so—”

He rips the kitchen mitt off my hand, smacking it over my head as tears fill his eyes. “Dios mio! Don’t go all soppy on me, Stella! You know I can’t let a girl cry alone.” “Happy tears, Poe,” I say as we both stand there sniffling. “I’m so happy!” The sound of laughter comes from the other room, and he wipes his eyes.

“Come on! We’re missing all the fun!”

Poe carefully carries out his beautifully made pie with a sea of candles sitting on top of it and we all start to sing. I watch Will smiling in the glow of the candlelight, looking around the table at all of us.

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Will. Happy birthday to you!” And many more. I mouth the words to him. They’ve never had more feeling behind them than right now.

“Sorry it’s a pie!” Poe says, smiling at him. “I’m good, but baking a cake in an hour is definitely out of my league.” “It’s amazing, Poe. Thank you so much,” Will says, smiling back at him and then eyeing the candles warily. “If I blow them out, then you guys can’t eat it.” His eyes flick between me and Poe, and we nod solemnly.

Hope leans over, blowing out the candles. She ruffles Will’s hair, smiling at him. “I made a wish for you!” He smiles back at her, winking. “I hope it involves Stella popping out of a birthday cake in a bikini!” Everyone laughs and Mya pulls out her phone and a selfie stick, holding her arm out to take a group photo. We crowd together, the best we can while keeping a safe CF distance. The second the camera clicks—BOOM.

The frosted-glass door behind us slams open, all of us jumping in shock and spinning around to see . . . Barb. Uh-oh. She stares at us, and we stare back at her. Everyone too stunned to say anything.

Poe clears his throat. “Hi, Barb. We thought you were off tonight. Can we make you a plate? Stella’s just about to start the entertainment.” Barb must be doing a double today. I’m sure it’s not an accident she kept that quiet. She knows me. And she knew it was Will’s birthday. Fuck.

She stares at us, speechless, rage overflowing from every feature on her face. She points at the three of us, and my heart goes haywire.

“Up. Now.”

We stand slowly, walking over to her. She shakes her head, looking around at us, words failing her.

“Follow me.” She starts walking out, swinging through the door and back across the cafeteria.

We shoot small waves good-bye in Hope and Jason and Mya and Camila’s direction, before following her out. This is bad. I’ve seen Barb mad or upset on plenty of occasions. But not like this. This is another kind of scary.

We follow her down the hallway. I shoot a worried look over at Will, and he mouths, “It’ll be okay.” But his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You’re all confined to your rooms while we get respiratory cultures,” she says, spinning around to face Will. “And you. You’ll be transferred in the morning.” “No!” I say, and her eyes swing over to meet mine. “No, Barb, it wasn’t Will’s fault—” She holds up her hand, cutting me off. “You may be willing to gamble with your lives, but I’m not.” There’s a thunderous silence, and then Poe laughs. We all look over at him, and he shakes his head, completely unfazed. He meets my eyes and gives me a big smile. “Just like when we were kids—” “You’re not kids anymore, Poe!” Barb shouts, stopping him midsentence.

“We were careful, Barb,” he says, shaking his head, his voice serious. “We were safe. Just like you taught us to be.” He gestures to the distance we’re keeping from one another even now.

He coughs. A quick, short cough, and then adds, “I’m sorry, Barb. But it was fun.” She opens her mouth to say something, and then quickly closes it, spinning around to take us the rest of the way to our floor. Nobody says a single word for the rest of the trip. I look over at Will. I want to get closer, but that’s exactly what got us into trouble in the first place.

We all go off to our respective rooms, Poe winking at me and Will before ducking inside. Barb giving me a final disappointed look before my door swings shut.

As the clock ticks closer and closer to midnight, I watch Will, fast asleep on the other side of my laptop screen, his face calm, peaceful. I rub my eyes, sleepy from the long day of planning for his party and getting caught by Barb. We don’t hang up because we know soon he’ll be far away in isolation. No more midnight walks. No more exercise room. No more slipping notes under doors. Nothing.

My eyelids are slowly shutting when an alarm blares over the speaker, jolting me awake.

“Code blue. All available personnel—”

I jump up, running to the door so I can hear the garbled words of the announcement. Oh god. A code blue. Someone’s heart has stopped working. And there aren’t that many of us on this floor right now.

As I swing open the door, the announcement is repeated again, clearer now that I’m in the hallway.

“Code blue. All available personnel to room 310. Code blue.”

Room 310.

Poe. Please tell me he just didn’t put the monitor on right again.

I clutch at the wall, the room spinning as a rapid response team pushes a crash cart past me. I see Julie following them into Poe’s room, her shift just starting. Barb’s voice calls out, somewhere in the distance, “He’s not breathing! There’s no pulse. We have to move fast.” This can’t be happening.

I start to run, stumbling to his room. I see his legs on the floor, his feet falling in two different directions. No. No, no, no.

Barb is covering his body, pushing air into his lungs with a bag valve mask. He isn’t breathing. Poe isn’t breathing.

“Come on, baby, don’t do this to me!” she shouts as another voice yells, “Place defibrillator pads!” A shape bends over him, cutting open his favorite Colombia soccer jersey, which his mom sent him for his birthday, slapping two pads on his chest. I finally see his face; his eyes are rolled back, his skin blue.

My arms and legs go numb.

“Poe!” I shout, wanting to get to him, wanting him to be okay.

Barb’s eyes meet mine and she shouts, “No! Someone get her away from here.” “Massive tension pneumothorax. His lung is collapsing. We need an intubation tray!” a voice yells, and I stare at his unmoving chest, trying to will it to lift.

Breathe. He has to breathe.

Bodies are all around me and I try to shove past them. I need to get to him. I need to get to Poe. I struggle against arms and shoulders, trying to push them away.

“Close that door!” Barb says as hands pull me back out into the hallway. I hear her voice one more time, talking to Poe. “Fight, baby! Fight, goddammit!” I see Julie, her eyes dark.

Then the door closes in my face.

I stumble back, turning to see Will standing behind me. His face as pale as Poe’s was. He reaches out for me, then closes his hands into fists, frustration filling his eyes. I feel like I’m going to be sick. I reach for the wall, sliding down it onto the floor, my breathing coming in short gasps. Will sits down against the wall, five feet away. I wrap my shaking arms around my legs, resting my head on my knees and squeezing my eyes tightly shut. All I see is Poe lying there.

Striped socks.

Yellow soccer jersey.

This can’t be real.

He’ll come to. He has to come to. He’ll sit up and make a joke about eating too much pasta or swooning too hard over Anderson Cooper, and ask if I want to go get a late-night milk shake with him. The same milk shakes we’ve been having for ten years.

The same milk shakes we need to have together for another decade.

I hear footsteps and lift my head to see Dr. Hamid hurrying down the hallway.

“Dr. Hamid—” I start, my voice croaking out.

“Not now, Stella,” she says firmly, pushing open the door. It swings wide and I see him. His face is turned toward me, his eyes closed.

He still isn’t moving.

But worse than that is Barb. Barb has her head in her hands. She’s stopped trying. No.

They’re taking everything off him. The wires. The intubation tubes.

“No!” I hear my voice scream out, my entire body screaming with it. “No, no, no, no!” I reach up, pulling myself to my feet, and start running back to my room. He’s gone.

Poe’s gone.

I stumble down the hallway, seeing his eyes the day we first met, seeing him smile at me from his bedroom door, seeing his hand resting in mine through the kitchen mitt just hours earlier. My fingers find the handle to my door and I crash through, everything blurring as tears stream down my face.

I spin around to see Will has followed me, and I take a step closer as sobs rack my body, making my rib cage ache as it becomes impossible to breathe. “He’s gone. Will, he’s gone! Michael, his parents, oh my god.” I shake my head, clutching at my sides. “Will! He was just about to . . . They’ll never see him again.” The realization slams me. “I’ll never see him again.”

I ball my hands into fists as I pace. “I never even hugged him. Never. Don’t touch! Don’t stand too close. Don’t, don’t, don’t!” I scream out, hysterical, coughing, dizzy. “He was my best friend and I never hugged him.” And I never will. The feeling is so horribly familiar, I can’t stand it. “I’m losing everyone,” I gasp out. Abby. Poe. All gone.

“You’re not losing me,” Will says, his voice soft but determined. He walks toward me, reaching out, his arms almost wrapping around me.

“No!” I shove him away, stepping back, farther and farther, well past five feet. I press my back against the far wall of the room. “What are you doing?!” Realization fills his eyes, and he backs away to the door, looking horrified. “Oh, fuck. Stella. I wasn’t thinking, I was just—” “Get out!” I say, but he’s already in the hallway, already running back to his room. I slam the door, my head pounding with anger. With fear. I look around the room, and all I see is loss everywhere, making the walls close in on me, closer and closer.

This isn’t a bedroom.

I run to the wall, my fingers curling around the edges of a poster. It gives way, tearing down off the hospital wall.

I rip the bedspread off, throwing the pillows across the room. I grab Patches, chucking him at the door. I push all the books and papers and to-do lists off my desk, everything clattering loudly to the ground. I blindly grab at my nightstand, picking up the first thing I can get my hands on and throwing it at the wall.

The glass jar shatters, a sea of black truffles scattering across the floor.

I freeze, watching them roll in every direction.

Poe’s truffles.

Everything goes quiet except for my chest heaving in and out, in and out. I sink to my knees, sobs racking my entire body as I try desperately to pick up the truffles, one by one. I look at Patches, toppled over on his side, ragged and worn, all alone on the floor except for a lone truffle, resting against his tattered leg.

His sad brown eyes stare back at me, and I reach out, picking him up. I hug him to my chest, my eyes traveling to Abby’s drawing and then to the picture of the two of us.

I stand up shakily and collapse onto my bed, curling up into a tiny ball on the bare vinyl mattress, tears streaming down my face as I lie there, alone.

Sleep comes and goes, my own sobs jolting me awake over and over again into a reality too painful to believe. I toss and turn, my dreams laced with images of Poe and Abby, smiles twisting into grimaces of pain as they melt away into nothingness. Barb and Julie both come in, but I keep my eyes shut tight until they leave again.

Soon I lie awake, staring at the ceiling as the light shifts across my room, everything giving way to numbness as morning drifts into afternoon.

My phone vibrates noisily on the floor, but I ignore it, not wanting to talk to anyone. Will. My parents. Camila and Mya. What’s the point? I’ll die or they will, and this cycle of people dying and people grieving will just continue.

If this year has taught me anything, it’s that grief can destroy a person. It destroyed my parents. It will destroy Poe’s parents. Michael.

And me.

For years I’d been so okay with dying. I’ve always known it would happen. It’s been this inevitable thing that I’ve lived with forever, this awareness that I would die long before Abby and my parents.

I was never, ever ready to grieve, though.

I hear voices in the hall and I push myself up, wading through the wreckage to the door of my room, picking up my phone as I go, feeling it vibrate in the palm of my hand. I drift out into the hallway, heading toward Poe’s room, watching as someone goes in with a box. I follow, without really knowing why. When I peer inside, some part of me expects to see Poe sitting in there, looking up at me as I pass by, like this was all a horrible dream.

I can hear him say my name. Stella. The way he said it, with that look of warmth in his eyes, that smile playing on his lips.

Instead, it’s an empty hospital room, a lone skateboard leaning against the bed. One of the few traces that Poe, my wonderful best friend, Poe, had even filled it. And Michael. He sits on the bed, his head in his hands, the empty box next to him. He’s come for Poe’s things. The Gordon Ramsay poster. The fútbol jerseys. The spice rack.

His body is shaking with sobs. I want to say something, to comfort him. But I don’t have the words. I can’t reach outside of the deep pit inside me.

So I squeeze my eyes shut, pulling my head away, and keep walking.

As I pass, my fingertips drag along the door to Will’s room. The light is on, shining underneath the bottom, daring me to knock. To go to him.

I keep drifting, though. My feet take me up steps and down hallways and through doors until I look up and see the sign for the children’s playroom, the breath catching in my throat as I stare at the colorful letters. This was where it all began. Where I played with Poe and Abby, the three of us having no idea we had such little life ahead of us.

So much of that life right here inside this hospital.

I pull at the collar of my shirt, for the first time in all my years at Saint Grace’s feeling the whitewashed walls closing in on me, my chest tightening.

I need to get air.

Flying down the hallway, I head back into Building 1, slamming the elevator button until the steel doors slide open, and the elevator pulls me back down to my floor. Yanking open my door, I turn my head to look warily over at my obsessively organized med cart. All I’ve done for the longest time is take my meds and go through my stupid to-do lists, trying to stay alive for as long as possible.

But why?

I stopped living the day Abby died. So what’s the point?

Poe pushed everyone away so he wouldn’t hurt them, but it didn’t make a bit of difference. Michael is still sitting on his bed, crushed, the weeks they could have had together spiraling through his head. Whether I die now or ten years from now, my parents will be crushed. And all I’ll have done is make myself miserable focusing on a few extra breaths.

I slam open my closet door to grab my coat and scarf and gloves, wanting to get away from all of this. I throw my portable O2 concentrator into a small backpack and head for the door.

Peering into the hallway, I see the nurses’ station is empty.

I clutch at the straps of my backpack, turning toward the stairwell at the end of the hall. Walking quickly, I push open the door before anyone can see me, coming face-to-face with the first set of stairs. I climb one by one, each step bringing me closer to freedom, each gasp for air a challenge to the universe. I run, the exhilaration pushing everything else from my mind.

Soon the red exit door is in front of me. I pull out the folded dollar bill of Will’s, still in my coat pocket after all this time. Using it to hold the alarm button down, I pull open the door and use a brick leaning against the wall to keep it open.

I step onto the roof and move to the edge to see the world below. I take a deep breath of the biting air and let out a long scream. I scream until my voice gives way to coughs. But it feels good. Looking down, my lungs heaving, I see Will in his room down below. He pulls a large duffel bag onto his shoulder, heading for the door.

He’s leaving.

Will is leaving.

I look to the holiday lights in the distance, twinkling like stars, calling out to me.

This time I respond.