Goodbye

“I hate you! I hate you! Leave me alone!” Jenny struggled violently against the nurses who were trying to hold her down. “Leave me alone!” She cried again, though it didn’t do her any good.
Brian sat down anyway, putting his face in his hands. It had been a long day- a long week, actually. Well, actually, it had been a long year. But today of all days had been especially bad, and it wasn’t going to get any easier.
“It’s okay, you can go,” he said quietly to the nurses, who gave up their chore at once and hurried from the room. When he heard the door shut, he sat up straight in his chair and looked Jenny calmly in the eye. He could tell she hadn’t been sleeping well: there were faint little circles below both of her eyes and a single wrinkle in her forehead that only appeared when she was tired. One look at her wrists told him that she hadn’t been eating, which really wasn’t a surprise. Jenny had always been a picky eater, and the hospital food was not exactly five-star.
“You’re so stupid! I hate you! I wish you would just go die!” She was screaming lots of other things too, which Brian only half-heard as he sat in the chair at the foot of her bed. The insults were bad, but he had heard worse, and they barely fazed him anymore. He had been coming to this hospital to visit her every day after work for exactly nine months and two days, and there wasn’t much that could come out of her mouth that would surprise him. He only wondered whether all of this hatred was a product of the accident itself, or whether it had been building up for years. She had always been a very peaceful girl…
“Are you listening to me?” Jenny huffed from her bed. “Worms will crawl through my rotting body before I ever even THINK about touching you again! Do you hear me? After what you said to me last night? Do you hear me, Brian Brown? You’re disgusting!” She let the last word linger on her tongue, relishing the pain she tried to cause.
Sighing, Brian bit down hard on his tongue. He knew that no matter what he said, she wouldn’t change her mind. And even if, somehow, he could change things today, he knew already that tomorrow would be the same. Which made arguing with her ridiculous, of course, though it didn’t take away the temptation.
“Jenny,” he began patiently, “I’m sorry for what I said, okay? I honestly didn’t know that it would make you so upset.” The words were true, even if only because he couldn’t remember what they were fighting about anymore. He didn’t think she remembered either, not really anyway, although he certainly wasn’t going to ask. They had been having the same argument for nine months and two days, night after night and week after week. Whatever he had said to her- more than a year ago, now- had been inconsequential, said en route to some stupid party that he had insisted on taking her to.
They had never had this argument while Jenny had been in her right mind; they had never made it to the party, either. Brian had been driving too fast, as usual, and the music had been turned up too loud. He didn’t notice how badly the car in front of him had been swerving: he barely had time to see their break lights before the crash. It was a good thing, they had told him later, that he had been wearing his seatbelt- a pity really, that Jenny had hated putting it on. He didn’t remember exactly how many feet she had flown from the car, and it didn’t matter that the other driver had been drunk. As far as Brian was concerned, it was all his fault.
“This is all your fault, you know,” Jenny snapped harshly. “You never really loved me. I really don’t think you ever loved me! You stupid jerk, you should just go to Hell!” She was shaking in the bed, she was so angry. Her pupils were dilating and her face was flushed. It reminded Brian of how she had looked that night, in the hospital. He had never seen anyone so beautifully bruised. As on that night, he was struck by the inconceivable urge to reach out and touch her, but he knew from experience that she would rip his hand away.
Jenny barely remembered anything from that night- except for their fight, oddly enough. It had broken Brian’s heart the first time he had walked into her room after she had finally woken up and she had screamed for him to leave. He had never known it would be so hard to love someone, and for a long time, he asked God to take that love away, to let him feel nothing instead. But he woke up hurting every day, and he kept dragging himself back.
As Jenny drew another breath to start a fresh tirade, a doctor knocked softly and then poked his head into the room. “Ah, I thought you were here,” he said timidly to Brian. “May I have a word?” Brian obediently stood and set the fresh bouquet of flowers in Jenny’s lap on the bed.
“I’ll be right back,” he promised, moving toward the door.
“See, you see what I mean!” She screamed after him. “A total stranger asks you to do something, and you jump at the chance to be a stupid, obedient prick, but do you listen to me? God forbid! You’re so stupid, I hate you! I hope you never come back! Just leave, and don’t ever come back, you stupid Asshole!” Her screams followed him from the room and for quite a ways down the hall. The doctor lead Brian into his office where, once the door was closed, Brian sank hopelessly into a new chair.
“Well, she’s still got her fighting spirit, you see,” the doctor joked grimly. Brian didn’t bother to respond, he just sat patiently in the empty silence. The doctor seated himself in the plush chair behind his desk and took a deep breath.
“She was asking for you last night, after you left.” The doctor let the words sink in, watching solemnly as Brian’s eyes slowly widened. “She also mentioned a picture of the two of you? It seemed important to her.”
Brian nodded absentmindedly. It was sitting on her nightstand, next to a fresh glass of water than Brian put there every night, a habit which he could not, or did not want to break himself of. They had been at the beach, Brian remembered; she had worn a white sundress that day. The sun had been just about to set, and the light was hitting the water just right. Jenny had asked some stranger to take a photo of them together, and he had picked her up on a whim, surprising her so that her mouth was open and laughing in the picture. He woke up beside that picture every morning, and he clung to it desperately on the nights that were hardest. Brian tried to control her voice.
“I have it…. But did she say why she wanted it? I just….” Brian left off, unsure of what to say. There wasn’t anything he would withhold if he thought it might make her happy, but this- This was different. That photo meant everything- everything- to him, and he wouldn’t give it to her and watch it be ripped into shreds. Because that was what she did- it was what she was doing right now to the flowers, Brian knew. Everything he brought her, she ripped to shreds like confetti. She had even managed to tear in half the sweater he had given her for Christmas. The photo would be too much, even for him.
“What about taking her home?” He asked absentmindedly. “You said if she showed some signs of progress, you’d consider it. This is progress, right?”
The doctor shook his head delicately. “I don’t think so. I’m sorry. She’s just so fragile right now, mentally I mean. Maybe if she had some memory of people or events- if she could recognize that she’s been sitting in a hospital for nine months, then maybe we could think about it. But it’s really not an option at this point. I’m sorry. I know how hard this must be for you. I’ve told you before, though, that we have to hope for the best and expect the worst. It’s likely that she may never be able to live independently, or co-dependently, in your case, again. I’m sorry.”
He was always apologizing, that doctor. It drove Brian crazy- the whole thing drove him crazy, really. But Brian didn’t let himself get angry; he blamed himself, again and always, for everything that could not be undone. He stood and stretched wearily, saying nothing to the apologetic doctor, who stood also to let Brian out of the room. They were past the point of pleasantries by this point: no Hellos, Goodbyes, Thank-You. Brian didn’t have it in him anymore, and the doctor seemed ready to oblige.
Walking back to Jenny’s room, Brian imagined what it would be like if he was able to take her home. He would make her macaroni and cheese every night- the spiral kind, her favorite- and they would sit on the couch watching re-runs of Friends. He would rub her feet, and make her S’mores in the microwave, the way she liked them. And at night, they would sleep on the floor of the living room, under the sky-windows that he had finally put in. She would have loved those sky windows; he wished he would have put them in sooner, so she could see.
The room was completely silent as he opened the door. And the bed was empty- Brian had never seen it empty before. He gasped sharply, throwing the door wide-open so he could see the whole room, searching for her. She was sitting in his chair, Brian’s chair, at the end of the bed. The floor was covered with shreds of leaves, lonely flower petals, and pieces of the stems. Except for one last flower, a white lily, which Jenny held tightly with both hands.
Brian tried to open his mouth to speak, to call out, maybe to ask for help. He didn’t know what to say. A shiver ran down the length of his spine, then back up, but his legs still wouldn’t move, either into the room or out of it.
“I don’t know why you stay.” Her voice was broken and hard to hear. The contrast between this and the harsh anger he had been bombarded with only minutes before was terrifying, and for a moment, Brian thought he must be hallucinating. Jenny wouldn’t look at him; she stared down at the lone flower, watching as her own fingers softly stroked the petals. He watched her fingers too, as they moved through their delicate caress. It took everything he had not to fall to his knees. His heart skipped a beat, and then another; he reminded himself to breathe.
“I’m sorry about the things I said,” she mumbled, and her head tilted so that she could look nervously into his eyes. “You know I didn’t mean them. It was just- I was just being silly. But none of it really mattered and-“
“Jenny,” Brian whispered thickly. “Oh my God, Jenny.” Her eyes filled with tears at the sound of her own name, and before he could stop himself, Brian was rushing toward her, wrapping his arms around her delicate frame. She was crying earnestly now, and convulsing wildly with emotion. He tightened his grip around her, forcing her body to be still, and cursed himself silently as a tear escaped his eye. He tucked his face into her hair, smelling the strawberry shampoo and nuzzling against the warmth of her neck.
“Brian, I’m so sorry…. I’m… so…. sorry!” Jenny could hardly get the words out. He shushed her; it was impossible to listen to her trying to apologize when it had been his fault- everything had been his fault- all along. He kissed her forehead, her hair, and wiped away the tears from her cheeks as he cradled her. He couldn’t believe how tight her grip was around him, how strong she still was after spending so much time in a hospital bed. His fault- and he wanted to apologize but there weren’t words for what he wanted to say.
Hours passed with near silence, bare sniffles, between them. A nurse came in at one point, checking to make sure that both patient and visitor were still alive. She had almost run from the room when she saw them together, peaceful for the first time in months.
“I don’t know why you stayed,” Jenny’s voice crackled like fire and then flickered out. The words were thick in her mouth like ashes, un-cried tears lodged in her throat and ready to cascade out. He smoothed her hair for the millionth time, gently caressing her skin beneath the corner of her eye with his thumb. He didn’t want to answer her; he wanted to stay where they were forever, holding each other and remembering. A sob caught in his throat, stopping his breath and making him still.
“I had to say goodbye,” he said finally, failing to hold back tears as her body convulsed with sobs again. He cried with her, for her. “I’m sorry Jenny, I’m so sorry.” There was nothing else to say.
He could feel the muscles in her stomach clenching; she was holding back, attempting to reign herself in and he clutched her tighter, not ready to let go. He couldn’t say anything, so he listened as her breathing slowed, quieted. He could feel her mouth against his neck opening, preparing to speak but she didn’t manage more than a low, helpless wail and then her eyes were wet with fresh tears again. He began to rock gently back and forth and to hum “Still” by Brian McKnight, her favorite song.
“I don’t want to forget,” she mumbled. “I don’t want to forget loving you.”
Brian matched her tone, sang through both their tears. “I’m still mad about you, all I ever wanted was you; you’re still the one. You’re still the one.”
He sang until she fell asleep, her tear-stained face nestled gently into the crook of his shoulder. And then he laid her carefully back, trying hard not to wake her, and tucked the thin blankets of the hospital bed under her chin.
“Goodbye Jenny,” he said, fresh tears in his eyes. He never saw her again.