Fatal Intent - Jamie Jeffries Page 0,2
and held out his hand. Dylan shook it and released it quickly.
“Mr. Chaves, you can go in and be with her now. I’m sure you know there’s nothing more to be done. We’ve made sure she isn’t feeling any pain… ”
How could you know that?
“…and of course you understand she won’t know you. May not even know you’re there on a conscious level. We like to believe, though, that she can feel something, emotionally. I encourage you to hold her hand. And, when you’re ready, you may want to tell her it’s okay to go.”
Dylan frowned, puzzled. “Go?”
“Often, we feel as if a patient is waiting for permission from her loved ones to leave them behind. They seem to slip away more peacefully if the spouse or children tell them it’s okay.”
To die, you mean. You want me to tell my mom it’s okay for her to die. As if I haven’t been telling her that for months.
For a moment, Dylan silently cursed modern medicine for keeping people alive longer only to prolong their agony. But, it wasn’t this doctor’s fault. It was no one’s fault. If that’s what it took to release Mom from this hell on earth she’d been suffering, he’d tell her. Hell, he’d shout it from the rooftops.
It’s okay, Mom. Just go, so the rest of us can get on with our lives.
Guilt flooded him. That wasn’t what he meant.
He slipped into the room and pulled a visitor’s chair from the side to his mother’s bedside. He took her hand, and tried to form the words to release her. The lump in his throat wouldn’t let them out. So, he sat for a few minutes, memorizing the face he’d refused to look at for so long when she was drinking and neglecting him and his much younger half-brothers. He’d seen it reflecting nothing but pain for most of the time since he’d been back. Only now that there was nothing left to do for her, the illogical rules of the medical profession dictated she be allowed to die pain-free.
Wouldn’t it have been better if she’d lived that way?
Now her face was at peace, and her body would be soon, or so they said. Was he ready? Would he ever really be ready? Dylan stood, still holding his mother’s hand, and leaned over to place a kiss on her forehead. “It’s okay, Mom,” he said. “You don’t have to wait anymore. I’ll tell Juan and Davi you love them. It’s okay to go.”
He sat again, watching the telemetry trace out her heartbeat minute after minute. When he no longer knew how much time had passed since he’d been there, he saw the spaces between beats get longer and the peaks for the beats grow smaller until, with a piercing alarm, it flatlined. No one came running to shock her back to life. After a few minutes, a nurse came into the room and shut off the alarm.
“Mr. Chaves?” she said, making it a question. “Would you like to stay here with her while I get the doctor?”
She left when he didn’t answer.
A few minutes later, the doctor was back. “I’m sorry, Mr. Chaves. She’s gone.”
So little fanfare for a woman who had shaped his life in ways she hadn’t intended, and who had finally received his respect too late to know it. His mother was dead, and Dylan was an orphan. At least his two little brothers weren't alone, because now, he was their dad as well as their brother. As soon as he buried his mother, he needed to get busy making sure they had a mom as well.
TWO
Alex had given up waiting for Dylan and gone to bed in his bed around midnight. Davi had been full of questions as only a six-year-old can be. “Why?” seemed to be the fallback when he ran out of others. None were answerable. “Where is Dylan? Why couldn’t we go with him? Why can’t I have hot dogs for dinner instead of this?” and back around to “Where is Dylan?”
It wasn’t her place to tell him and she felt a flash of irritation at Dylan for leaving without either giving the boys some excuse or her some instruction. Juan did his best to keep Davi distracted and give her a break, but the evening had been exhausting until bath time was over and she could put the boys to bed at last.
Something had awakened her and she lay there in the state between wakefulness and sleep, her brain