chapter eighteen
Turns out, those were the last words Erin heard me say. At least the Erin I knew. Later that night she slipped into a light coma. Apparently it’s not uncommon for this to happen the last few days. She’s withering away quickly. Erin signed the papers refusing a feeding tube when the time came. She didn’t want anything prolonging her life just so we didn’t have to deal with her death. I see now, I see why she did it. It’s horrible. When she’s not sleeping, she’s completely incoherent. Belligerent even. She doesn’t know who we are or who she is.
Still, Griffin and I keep vigil at her side. Family members come and go, but other than me, she didn’t want any friends with her near the end. She knew how it would go. She didn’t want everyone remembering her the way she’s been these last few days. Family, that’s who she wanted here. I’m now lucky enough to be considered a part of that.
Griffin and I take a break, both of us exhausted from lack of sleep. Neither one of us want to leave her for more than a few minutes, knowing we could miss being with her at the very end. Her instructions were clear. When the time comes, she wants Griffin and me and no one else with her. We leave Erin with Sherry and some of her sisters while the others make more arrangements for what will inevitably happen soon. We open a bottle of Erin’s favorite wine out on their back porch. It’s cold out here. It’s wet, too. But this was her peaceful place, her area of solace, the spot she would come every night and share stories of her childhood and her hopes of the future. Aaron’s future. We came out to toast her. I take one sip of wine in honor of my friend and then I laugh at what happens next.
Little constant flutters riddle my belly. The bean has decided to protest my forbidden drink by getting the hiccups. The quick and soft little jerks make me smile. He gets them all the time and so far, it’s my favorite thing about being pregnant.
Griffin looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. I know he’s wondering how I can possibly laugh at a time like this. But all of a sudden, in some twisted way, I’m happy. I feel this little life within me. In the other room, life is slipping away, yet here is Aaron, growing big and strong and reminding me every day that life is precious.
“Aaron has the hiccups,” I say, looking down at my belly. I sit on the porch swing and close my eyes to savor the moment.
I feel the swing shift under Griffin’s weight as he sits next to me. “Can I feel?” he asks in a whisper.
I nod and with my eyes still closed, I reach out and grab his hand and place it under my coat onto my belly. We sit like this for a silent minute.
I know the second he feels it because he chokes up. I keep my eyes closed and let him quietly enjoy the first time he feels his son move. I hear him murmur ‘Incredible’ over and over. His hand is frozen in place on my belly. I can tell he doesn’t want to move it for fear of losing the moment to the past.
But the hiccups stop and then Sherry sticks her head out the door and says the words we have dreaded for the past month. “It’s time.”
We both belt out a pained whimper into the darkness of the night. Then we compose ourselves and do what we have to do. We go say goodbye to the woman who has single-handedly changed our lives.
We walk past her family as they quietly sob, all gathered around the kitchen. I try not to look at them. I want to be strong in these last moments. I know Erin probably won’t be able to hear me. She won’t even see me, but I need to be strong for her anyway. I can fall apart later. Once she’s gone. Right now, I need to be here for her. For Griffin.
I’m stunned at what I see when we walk into her room. Her eyes are open. They’re as clear and as blue as I’ve ever seen them. She follows our movement to the side of her bed. I take one side, Griffin the other. I’ve read about this. I’ve read how some terminally ill patients have one last moment of cognizance before they die.
Her body is relaxed and I immediately notice her hand is not curled up in front of her. Her hair has finally lightened back to the glorious blonde spirals that I love. Her face is peaceful, despite the dark circles, faint lines, and hollow cheeks that have come from a lack of nutrition. Her respirations are slow and the time lengthens between each gurgling breath she takes. She doesn’t speak but her eyes say volumes. I nod at Griffin. He needs to say goodbye.
“Sweetheart, I’m here. Skylar is, too,” his shaky voice cracks. “God, I love you so much. You have brought such joy to my life. I can’t even begin to explain what you mean to me. When I had no family, you took me in and made me part of yours. You believed in me when nobody else did. Even now, when I thought I could never forgive my dad, you managed to bring us together.” He can barely get the last words out, but I know he needs her to hear him so he pushes through. “You’ve done everything that you needed to do. You let us take it from here. Thank you, baby. Thank you for being my wife.”
He bows his head and gives her a kiss on the lips. Then he nods to me through his tears.
I take a deep breath and pray I get through this without breaking down. “Erin Pearce, you are the best friend I’ve ever had. I could look to the ends of the earth and never find another friend like you. You see the good in people. You look past what others can’t. You have changed my life in the short time I’ve known you and I will never be the same. Heaven will be a better place because you are in it. Aaron will have a better life because you are his guardian angel. I will be a better person because I’ve known you. You don’t have to worry about anything now. We’ve got you covered. I love you, Erin. Thank you for being my very best friend.”
I can’t tell if she’s heard us. Perhaps the words we’ve spoken are more for us than they are for her. We continue to praise her with our love. We tell her it’s okay to leave, that we’ll be fine, that Aaron will be alright. But her eyes dart between us like she’s not quite done with us yet. Like she isn’t ready to let go. Her eyes fall onto our hands. Each of us has one of Erin’s hands in ours. She fixes her gaze on them as if willing her limp hands to move within ours. Then, Griffin reaches across the bed with his free hand and grabs mine. We hold hands on top of her chest, forming a circle, each of us holding the hands of the other.
Erin lets out a deep sigh as the life exits her body along with her final breath. She peacefully closes her eyes and slips away. As I watch my best friend leave this world, I try not to drown in my loss. Instead, I rejoice that she is once again whole. She’s no longer confined to the broken body she was sentenced with. She is free to be Aaron’s guardian. She can go to Paris and free fall from a plane. She can dance on the clouds and have dozens of babies.
Staring at her lifeless body, I realize her face looks different. It looks younger. Even the dark circles and lines that riddled it moments ago seem to be gone. She’s as beautiful in death as she was in life.
I put my hand on my belly and feel Aaron shift around inside me as I think how one life has been traded for another.
Griffin silently cries into her dressing gown as I make my way out to the family and give him one last moment with her before they come take her away. I slowly walk as far as the kitchen when I feel my legs collapse out from under me. But before I hit the floor, strong arms come around me from behind and pick me up, carrying me up the stairs to the room that has become mine.
The last thing I remember is Griffin telling me everything will be okay.