Max opened his eyes with a sigh. He was surprised he’d been left at the hospital alone. Until that moment he’d passed Jed’s truck keys over to Glenn, someone had always been there, standing guard in the corridor if not by the bed. He figured Glenn didn’t know he was too much of a basket case to be left on his own, and Max hadn’t been about to tell him.
He got up and walked to the window. It was smaller than the window of Jed’s room downstairs, as though the shrinking window represented Jed’s fading chances of recovery. Max stared hard through the glass at the black night. It was raining, and the sound of the fat drops hitting the glass took him back in time to an evening spent a few days before Christmas….
Max strung the last pale puff of popcorn on the brown garden string and tied a knot in the end. He tossed the homemade, biodegradable garland on the coffee table with the others and sat back, stretching his stiff shoulder muscles.
Most years, he didn’t know why he bothered decorating the cabin. It wasn’t like anyone ever saw it. The kids stopped by, but only for an hour or so, and on evenings like these, when the dark night was ravaged by a bitter winter storm, the recollection of their bright eager smiles was hard to find.
Movement on the couch reminded Max he wasn’t alone. He glanced over his shoulder as Jed stirred. “Hey, sleepyhead.”
Jed sat up with care. “Damn, did I fall asleep on you again?”
“Yup. You sure like your afternoon naps. Must be your age.”
Jed shot him a look that would’ve been sour if not for the warm glint in his eyes. He stretched his arms above his head and yawned.
Max stared at him.
Jed caught him and frowned. “What?”
“Um, nothing.” Max tripped over his words. Something was off, but what… “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you yawn before.”
“You’re counting my yawns?”
Max shook his head. It wasn’t coming out the way he wanted it to, but he was sure he was right. “I haven’t, have I? I’ve never heard you yawn, cough, or sneeze. Why is that?”
Jed laughed… laughed a low but real belly laugh that warmed the whole room. “How come you don’t notice there’s a hole in the roof, but you notice that?”
MAXCAMEback into the present with a fond smile. Jed had deflected the question with graceful ease, but one night a month or so later, he’d alluded to the fact that he’d been well drilled in the art of utter silence.
He was silent now too. Too bloody silent.
Max let himself be drawn back to the bed. Up until now, he’d resisted the urge to talk to Jed about anything other than the occasional whispered plea for him to get better. Most of the time there were others around—conversations for Jed to grumble about if he could in fact hear them—and when there weren’t, Max often found he had little to say.
Now, though, his mind swelled with all the things Jed didn’t know about, all the things he’d missed out on: Nick and Kim’s shotgun wedding, the magical births of his nieces. All at once, Max felt the need to tell Jed all about them.
He didn’t know how long he’d been talking when his voice cracked. The strangled sob caught him by surprise. For a while now, he’d felt too tired and numb to give in to the debilitating pain in his chest.
He clamped his hand over his mouth and took some deep breaths.No. Jed doesn’t need to hear that. But even as Max thought it, the sense that it wasn’t entirely true crept over him. Perhaps he was wrong… perhaps Jeddidneed to feel his pain… perhaps he needed reminding what he was leaving behind.
Max felt the faith he was clinging to dim as he stroked Jed’s cheek with the pad of his thumb. “You know I love you, right? It’s okay if you’ve had enough. I can’t even tell you how much I’ll miss you… how much I already miss you… ah, fuck, this isn’t coming out right.”
He gave up and covered his mouth again. Wasthatwhat he wanted to say to Jed? That it was all right for him to give up and die?
God, no.
Dr. Greene entered the room. He’d been in and out throughout the day, but this time he was accompanied by Dr. Howarth. They ran through their usual routine. Max watched them with muted interest. Much of what they did was a mystery to him. He jumped a little when Dr. Howarth appeared at his side.
“Holding firm, eh? Let’s see what the dawn brings us.”
The doctors left before Max could formulate an answer. Instead, he found himself scrutinizing Jed more closely than he had before. He looked the same—still, pale, clinging to life by a thread, but Max sensed something. Something, something, something. But what?
Perhaps it was his own hysterical exhaustion. Max couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so long without sleep, but the harder he stared at Jed, the more he felt it. Felt the glimmer of emotion he’d fought back while Glenn had been there. Hope? It had been so long, he wasn’t quite sure.
Max slumped in the chair by Jed’s side. His body gave in to fatigue, but even as his head hit the mattress and sleep washed over him, the crackle of energy flowing through his tired brain was undeniable.
Something had changed.
Chapter Thirty-Two