Chapter Fourteen
Hayden was dreaming. She was sleeping so lightly, that she knew it was a dream. Actually, it was more of a memory, tied lightly around a dream.
She was ten and there was a buddy lunch at school. Everyone in her class buzzed about it for a week, about what their parents, or their grandparents, their friends or relatives, were bringing for them for lunch.
Hayden hadn’t bothered asking. She’d packed her own lunch just as she did every morning. She took her same seat in the cafeteria, trying not to notice how her normal tablemates had spread out over the cafeteria, their buddies next to them. But trying didn’t guarantee success, and this was an instance where she didn’t even come close. She not only noticed, but felt this queasiness in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t want to eat her sandwich, but she unwrapped it and took a defiant bite anyway. She ate that sandwich because as much as she didn’t want to eat it, she didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for her even more.
Swallowing the bite proved difficult, and it had nothing to do with the fact that it was dry peanut butter. She took a sip from her Thermos of water. Her mother hadn’t shopped in a while and the only other thing to drink in the house was beer.
“Hayden?”
She’d looked up and there had been Brian, a huge pizza box in hand. “Mom had to work, but she wrote Ms. Murray and they said I could get out of class and be your buddy. So here I am.”
When she didn’t say anything, Brian had continued, “Mom ordered the pizza. Lots of cheese, just the way you like it.”
He’d reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out two cans of soda. “They’re not cold.”
Lunch unloaded, he’d taken the seat next to her. “Come on, have a slice.”
She took one from him, but didn’t eat it, instead just held it. “How’d you know?”
“I ride the same bus as you. I may be up in the high school now, but I still hear things.” He’d looked embarrassed, but he would never admit it. “Come on, kid. It’s no big deal. I got out of class to come here. And Miss Jennings said I was sweet, which means she’ll give me a good grade for class participation today, even though I skipped out on most of the class.”
Hayden remembered laughing then as she pushed her meager sandwich back and took a bite of her pizza. It was the best lunch she’d ever had.
Hayden snapped so quickly from dreaming to waking that she could almost taste the pizza. She’d never had a pizza that had come close to tasting that good. She lay there, lost in the past, but was pulled back to reality when she heard a rustling from the bed next to her.
Kathleen had awoken.
Kathleen had been still for so long, that the slightest movement was enough to wake Hayden up.
Hayden got out of the recliner and hurried to the side of the bed. “Hey.”
Almost every day, Kathleen seemed to shrink further in on herself. Sometimes when Hayden looked down at her, it almost hurt. Waking from the sweet dream to this harsh sight was one of those times, but she wouldn’t want Kathleen to know it, so she forced a smile.
Kathleen looked up and offered a weak smile, then sighed. “You’re here.”
“Of course I’m here. You’re never alone. One of us is always with you.”
Nighttime had always been her favorite hospital shift, but here, with Kathleen, the silence could hang heavily over the room. Needing to fill the quiet with something, she said, “I was dreaming about when I was little. There was a buddy lunch at school and you had to work. I knew my mom wouldn’t come, but Bri did. You had a pizza delivered, and he showed up at the cafeteria with it. I loved him so much for that. You, too.”
Kathleen nodded. “I’ve loved you since you walked into the house that first time. And I want to thank you.”
Hayden hushed her. “There’s nothing to thank me for. As you’ve pointed out so many times, we’re family. This is what family does. Supports each other. You taught me that.”
“I did a good job.” She laughed, but it was shallow and soft, as if the effort of it hurt.
“A damned good job.” Without being asked, Hayden took one of the damp sponges and moistened Kathleen’s lips. “Do you think you could drink something?”
Kathleen shook her head. It was a minute movement, but it was enough. “I’m not thirsty, or hungry. Just tired. So tired.”
“Then you rest, Kathleen.”
Marti had talked to all of them, telling them that sometimes patients need permission from those they love to let go. Hayden had been loath to say the words, but seeing Kathleen now, so small and wasted, she found the strength for them. “It’s okay to just rest, Kathleen. We’re all here. We’ll be with you.”
Kathleen gave her hand a small squeeze. “I love you. Have always loved you like a daughter.”
“I am your daughter, in every way that counts.” Hayden held on to the icy hand, wishing more than anything that she could change what would be the inevitable outcome. She wished her love for Kathleen could be enough to make her better.
“You were always such a good girl. Life goes on, you know. It’s a circle. Right now there’s pain, but soon you’ll find joy again. I want you to remember me as I was, laughing and loving all of you.”
“Kathleen, we couldn’t forget.” She stopped, unshed tears burning in her eyes.
“Live life out loud. Make it big, make it noisy, and realize that what counts is love.”
Hayden couldn’t think of a reply.
Kathleen asked, “Will you hold my hand?”
She’d been holding Kathleen’s hand, all along, but she reached down with her other hand, sandwiching Kathleen’s between hers. “I’ve got it.”
“Good. I can sleep now.”
“You sleep. Rest. Let go. I’ll be here with you.”
“Hayden, promise me you’ll remember.”
“Remember? I’ll remember everything about you.”
“No. Remember what I said. Live out loud. You were such a quiet little girl. You hid in the shadows. You’re hiding again. You can’t do that. Live out loud. Promise?”
Hayden nodded, and that was enough for Kathleen. She shut her eyes and fell back to sleep.
Live out loud?
Hayden wasn’t sure how to do that. But somehow she’d try to figure it out. She’d promised, and she’d never broken a promise to Kathleen.
Hayden sat there through the rest of the night, holding Kathleen’s hand, afraid if she’d let go, Kathleen would, as well. She lost all sense of time. All she knew was the rhythmic sound of Kathleen’s breathing. It was so soft, so shallow, with longer and longer moments of apnea, where Kathleen’s breathing stopped altogether. Each time, Hayden thought that it was done, but each time, Kathleen drew another breath.
Brian came into the room in the wee hours, just before the sun would start to brighten the sky.
“Hayden?” With just her name, he asked a multitude of questions.
“She was awake for a few minutes. She talked about how much she loved us, asking us to remember her …” Hayden’s voice broke and the tears that were always so close to the surface, welled in her eyes. “It won’t be long now. She asked me to hold her hand. I think she just wants someone to be here with her.”
Hayden turned and looked at Brian, grief stricken.
“Would you sit with her a while? I’ve got to use the bathroom, and then I’ll make us some coffee.”
Brian nodded. Hayden got up and he took her seat. She stayed for a moment, lingering in the doorway, watching Brian gently pick up his mother’s hand. He brushed a lock of Kathleen’s thin hair from her forehead, leaning down and whispering to her.
Hayden left him to it.
She had no doubt that this was Kathleen’s goodbye. She knew it as a nurse, but more than that, she knew it as someone who loved Kathleen. She was saying her goodbyes because she loved them.
Problem was, Hayden wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
Kathleen had said everything she needed to say. She just hoped the kids listened. She might be sick, but she could see that Brian and Hayden had left each other emotionally. She worried about them, but knew they had to find their own way back. She’d done what she could. Now it was time to let go. She was so tired.
She’d had a good life.
A very good life.
It had been filled with people she loved, who loved her in return. And in the end, no one could ask for anything more.
It didn’t happen that day.
Kathleen talked to Brian, and later, when Livie came in, she opened her eyes one last time and smiled at her granddaughter then whispered, “I love you.”
Hayden was so proud of her daughter at that moment as she leaned down and kissed her grandmother’s sunken cheek and said, “I love you, too, Nana.”
That was the last time Kathleen spoke.
Each breath was more strained than the last.
It had been days, too, since Kathleen had eaten or had anything to drink. There were times when she grimaced, as if she hurt.
Afraid that even though she couldn’t voice it any longer, there was pain, Hayden talked to Marti who agreed that when it appeared Kathleen was feeling discomfort, Hayden should give her more morphine. And it seemed to work. Kathleen’s sleep was peaceful after that.
It was a gray morning when Kathleen Rose Conway died.
As a nurse Hayden had witnessed death before. And knew that it was rarely the Hollywood version, with the person talking right up until the big movie climax where they’d grip themselves and fall over. Yet, the fact that Kathleen’s death was so anticlimatic didn’t seem right.
One moment she was alive, the next moment, she wasn’t. She just stopped.
One second she was breathing, the next she sighed one last long hiss of air, and didn’t inhale again.
Hayden stood at Kathleen’s bedside, waiting for that next breath, confused.
Brian was standing across from her and Livie was down the hall, dressed and packing her bookbag for school.
Marti was due in an hour.
Brian said softly, “Hayden?” As if he needed some confirmation.
“I don’t think she’s breathing.”
His voice finally roused her. On automatic pilot, she reached for her stethoscope. She pressed it to Kathleen’s chest. There was one heartbeat, followed by a long silence, before there was another.
“Call Livie in.” There was urgency in her voice.
But Brian didn’t need to hear it to know what to do. He was already flying down the hall, and returned with their daughter. He must have already spoken to her, told her what was happening, because there were tears streaming down her face. Livie didn’t bother trying to wipe them aside as she stood next to her father, his arm around her shoulder, as if he could shelter her from the reality of what was going on. Hayden stood nearby.
“It’s okay, Kathleen,” Hayden whispered. “You can let go.”
She couldn’t detect any rise-and-fall of Kathleen’s chest, so she picked up her stethoscope and listened again.
She listened for a very long time.
There was no sound.
Hayden looked up at Brian and Livie, both showing their grief.
“She’s gone.”
Livie’s silent tears gave way to full-out sobs as she buried her face in Brian’s chest.
Hayden knew she should join them, grieve with them, but she couldn’t seem to find her own tears, couldn’t seem to move.
“Hayden?” Brian’s voice was choked with emotion. He held his free arm open to her.
Part of her wanted nothing more than to be enveloped in the comfort of his arms. The other part knew she’d fall apart if she went to him, and she wasn’t sure she could pick up the pieces if she did.
So she didn’t.
She watched as Brian and Livie hugged. When he finally released their daughter, Livie said, “I’m going to my room.”
Understanding Livie’s need for solitude, Hayden nodded.
After she was gone, there was a long, uncomfortable silence.
Hayden said, “Well, I should make calls.” She started to leave the room.
“Sure, it can wait …” began Brian, but as she continued to move toward the door he said, “No, damn it, it can’t wait. It seems as if I’ve been waiting since Mom told us her cancer was back. You’ve shut me out, totally. Completely. I hate it, but I don’t know what to do about it.”
“You really want to have this talk now?” she asked incredulously. “Your mother’s dead.”
“I don’t want to, but Hayden, we have to. I want to comfort you. I want you to comfort me. I want us to pull together. I need you.”
“Don’t you think I’d give you what you want if I could?” So many emotions coursed through her system. Anger. Sadness. Pain. Frustration. She couldn’t tell where one stopped and another began. Add to that, she was exhausted to her very core. Weary both physically and mentally. She’d done all she could. And still, Brian wanted more from her?
“I don’t have anything left to give you Brian. I wish I did, but I don’t. I’m totally tapped out. I can’t share, I can’t pull together. It’s taking everything I have just to keep going. There’s nothing left for you.” She paused and added, “I don’t know if there’s anything left for us.”
“You don’t mean that.” His voice sounded as raw as she felt.
“Your mom hung on to stories of our good times. I can remember them in an academic way, but I can’t feel them. I don’t know if I remember how to let you in … how to love you.”
“Hayden.”
Words. They were only words. But she could see the damage they inflicted.
Hayden knew she should apologize. Should take them back. But she’d meant it when she said she didn’t have the energy.
“I don’t know what I mean, what I want. I only know there are things that need to be done. This isn’t the time for this discussion.”
She thought he was about to argue, to keep pushing. But finally, he nodded.
Feeling as if she had a reprieve, she sprinted into the kitchen. Its bright yellow walls seemed to mock her with happy memories. The room always seemed to reflect warmth, but today, it seemed darker and lacking the comfort it normally had.
Hayden tried to ignore the cold that seemed to seep into her bones as she called Marti, who’d promised to take care of the rest of the arrangements. Someone would be there soon to collect Kathleen’s body.
Body.
At the sound of the word, Hayden started to shake. She knew that Kathleen was gone and all that was left was a shell, but hearing it was different.
“Kathleen is dead,” she whispered to herself, trying the words on and not liking the way they felt.
Hayden stood for a long time at the phone, her body pins-and-needles tingly. Her mind fogged and thick. Her breath coming in shallow gasps.
“Hayden?”
Brian’s voice was tight and filled with pain. It shook her from her stupor. “Everything is being taken care of.”
“Where’s Livie?”
“She went to her room. She didn’t want to see them wheel Mom out.”
“I should go check on her before the transport arrives.” It seemed like just a day ago that a transport brought them home from the hospital. Today, another transport, a different kind, would come to take Kathleen away.
“We’ll go together,” Brian said.
They walked to their daughter’s room in silence.
Brian knocked on Livie’s door. “Honey, can your mom and I come in?”
“Yeah,” came Livie’s tear-strained response.
They went and sat, either side of their daughter on her bed. Livie couldn’t seem to stop her tears, and Hayden couldn’t seem to start hers.
They all sat, each lost in their own misery, until the doorbell rang.
“That’s probably them,” Hayden said.
Brian made some response, and Hayden left him to comfort their daughter while she took care of the next task at hand.
Keeping busy was her mantra that day and the next. There was certainly enough to do. Funeral arrangements, florists, Hospice came for their equipment. Hardest of all was finding Kathleen’s outfit and taking it to the funeral home.
Kathleen had made her wishes known weeks ago. She’d asked for the dress she’d worn to Brian and Hayden’s wedding, the day she’d held the wedding photo. Kathleen’s words echoed in Hayden’s mind. It was a good day.
Hayden stood in the foyer next to the coat tree that held her coat and purse, but she didn’t reach for them. She simply held the plastic bag Kathleen stored the dress in and her hand shook.
“Hayden? Are you okay?” Brian had come down the stairs and she hadn’t heard him.
“Are any of us?” she countered, rather than answering his question.
“I can go with you and take this to the funeral home, if you like.”
“No.” Her response was harsh, even to her own ears.
Brain flinched.
Hayden tried to soften it. “No, you still have people to contact. You should be the one making those phone calls. I can do this.” She ran a finger over the zipper of the bag. “She was so happy at our wedding. Her and Livie. They acted as if they’d run the whole thing, they were so proud.”
She hung the hanger on one of the coat-tree arms and reached for her jacket.
“Our wedding,” Brian repeated. “It was a good day.”
She stopped, her arm not all the way through her coat’s sleeve, the phrase cutting at her.
The words she’d said earlier hung heavily between them.
Hayden didn’t know how to take them back.
She didn’t know how to give Brian what he needed. She wasn’t even sure what it was he needed from her. But she knew he wanted her to break down and share. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t.
She couldn’t.
“Hayden, what about us? It’s not right between us. You know it and I know it.”
“Why do you keep pushing? You expect me to grieve your way. I can’t. It’s that simple. Just back off, okay?”
“Fine. Have it your way. I’ll back off.” He stalked from the room.
Hayden took the bag with Kathleen’s dress in it and walked out the door.
She’d fought with Brian before, but never like this. This fight had been different. Harsher. She knew she should have done things better.
She hadn’t been able to save Kathleen, and now she wasn’t sure she’d be able to save her relationship with Brian.
Worse, she didn’t have the energy to even try.