The sitting room was small. There were four chairs against the back wall and you could touch the other wall, that was plexiglass from halfway up, almost with your knees as you sat. I sat still in my chair and the fluorescent light above me hummed away as they do and I kept glancing at the door to the critical care unit.
My shoes were still wet from the slush outside and my socks were wet but the heat in the sitting room and maybe the hospital was incessant and I was nearly sweating. I moved my toes and pictured my socks with mildew. My coat was in the chair next to me and I rolled it up and used it for a pillow. I leaned my head back and stared out through the plexiglass at the empty hospital. Machines made their noises and nurses unseen made their rounds and in sitting rooms in other floors and wings and units loved ones worried and waited and didn't sleep and slept.
Brandon will be fine, I thought.
Black Brandon leaned against the door frame and watched me. I didn't look at him. I knew he was there.
"It's okay, James."
You don't know that.
"I do," he said.
I looked through the window and saw nothing.
I thought about rent. Brandon's car. Work. Laundry. Groceries. Anything to keep my mind clear.
My body was weighted and in the imagined black I waited.
I must have slipped into sleep because I jumped awake when someone knocked loudly on the window.
I looked up quickly and was confused and forgot briefly where I was but quickly remembered. A girl was knocking on the window. Brown hair. Thin. Older than me but not old. She waved and then opened the door and came in.
"Hi. You're James?" she asked.
"Yes?"
She stuck out her hand to shake. "I'm Susan. Brandon's sister."
"I didn't realize he had a sister. He always said he didn't have family."
"Yeah, well, he would say that," she said as she set her coat and purse down into a chair a few down from me. "He has family. Me. Josh his brother, and our dad."
I sat up in the chair. My back had cramped and Black Brandon was nowhere and I felt alone against Susan.
Does even Black Brandon hide from his family?
"Strange. Why did he say otherwise?"
"He didn't grow up with us. I guess maybe he felt like he didn't actually have family. I don't know."
I wanted to say we would ask him when he woke up, but I couldn't bring myself to assume either way and realizing that closed my throat and I choked and coughed.
"Oh, you okay?" Susan asked.
"Fine," I said, catching my breath. "Did they tell you what happened? What;s going on? Anything? They wouldn't tell me and my fucking brain keeps going to the worst places and I've been panicking all night..."
"They did."
"And?"
She turned her mouth downward and a great chasm opened up in me and an insatiable vacuum began to suck all love and beauty and joy and logic from the world. I will never forget her face. Later, I realized she hadn't been sad or distraught the whole time. Only once she had to answer me.
"How much do you know?" she asked.
"Nothing. They just said he was in an accident but wouldn't tell me anything because I wasn't family."
"Okay. I know you were close. Friends and roommates and everything, but I need you to bear with me please. At least until I finish."
"You're making me nervous."
"Brandon was hit."
"What do you mean? How?" I could feel my heart again, only for a second as it began to pump a bit faster, a bit harder. Something about an explanation made everything worse. Made everything real. Something about an explanation stole all hiding from you.
"Okay. According to the doctor, and the police and according to witness' on the scene, Brandon was pulled over on the interstate. On the shoulder. And apparently it was all snowy and icy here last night?"
"Yes." I spoke slowly.
"He was outside of his car. On the shoulder and scraping his back windshield..."
"His fucking defroster. I told him..."
She looked at me and continued. "Well, some car tried to pass him, on the right, and hit him. A man there who was going twenty or so he says, says he saw it all. The car hit him and Brandon flipped over it and hit the pavement, and the man pulled over and whoever hit him drove off and the man called 911. That's about all I know."
"Fucking god. Jesus. Is he going to be okay? Did they say? Is he okay?"
She took a deep breath. It filled her and I saw every moment of it and the world slowed and I saw every moment of everything and I heard all sounds and saw all sights and I was everything and I was everywhere as she said; "No."
I felt my body begin to collapse. Crumble. "What do you mean?"
"Tests apparently came back this morning. Before I woke you up."
"And?" My voice sounded weak. Nearly a whisper.
"They, um, he's not there."
"What? What the fuck does that mean?"
"He's not showing any brain activity. They think that when he hit the pavement he, well, he's brain dead."
"Just like that?"
She didn't say anything.
"Well, fuck, what do they do? What can be done? I mean, he's still alive though, right? He can come back. He's still in there. Still in bed. I mean just, he can heal and he'll be fine. Right? Surgery or, something? Right?"
She had large brown eyes and now I saw that she looked like Brandon and I thought that maybe she could be my friend now and I thought that maybe she was Brandon now and that was why I never heard of her before and I thought that this was Black Brandon too. Breaking the news to me.
It's not okay you fucker! It's not okay!
Susan wasn't Brandon. She wasn't Black Brandon. She was Susan.
"I have to sign the order," she said.
"The order?" I realized I was crying.
"To take his body off of life support."
"What?" I stood up. "You can't! He could make a recovery! He could be fine! You can't tell after one fucking night! You can't! People lie in comas for years and then their back! He could be fine again! He could be fine! You can't just kill him! Who the fuck are you? You don't even exist to him!"
She took her purse and stood. "This isn't a coma. He isn't coming back. I'm sorry." She faked a smile and walked out and toward the Critical Unit.
I followed her. "You have no right! You don't even exist to him! You don';t exist!"
Her pace quickened and so did mine. She walked into the Critical Care Unit and I followed only a few steps behind.
"Brandon had no family! You fucking murdering bitch! You don't even exist! I am Brandon's family!"
A nurse came running over to me and took my arms and began to pull me back toward the door. "No! Don't touch me!"
"Sir!" the nurse said. "I have to ask you to leave. We can't have that going on."
I looked at the nurse and I was sobbing and my chest had finally cracked wide open. "Please don't let her kill my friend," I said.
Susan kept her back to me.
"Susan! Please! Please don't kill my friend!"
My shoes were still wet from the slush outside and my socks were wet but the heat in the sitting room and maybe the hospital was incessant and I was nearly sweating. I moved my toes and pictured my socks with mildew. My coat was in the chair next to me and I rolled it up and used it for a pillow. I leaned my head back and stared out through the plexiglass at the empty hospital. Machines made their noises and nurses unseen made their rounds and in sitting rooms in other floors and wings and units loved ones worried and waited and didn't sleep and slept.
Brandon will be fine, I thought.
Black Brandon leaned against the door frame and watched me. I didn't look at him. I knew he was there.
"It's okay, James."
You don't know that.
"I do," he said.
I looked through the window and saw nothing.
I thought about rent. Brandon's car. Work. Laundry. Groceries. Anything to keep my mind clear.
My body was weighted and in the imagined black I waited.
I must have slipped into sleep because I jumped awake when someone knocked loudly on the window.
I looked up quickly and was confused and forgot briefly where I was but quickly remembered. A girl was knocking on the window. Brown hair. Thin. Older than me but not old. She waved and then opened the door and came in.
"Hi. You're James?" she asked.
"Yes?"
She stuck out her hand to shake. "I'm Susan. Brandon's sister."
"I didn't realize he had a sister. He always said he didn't have family."
"Yeah, well, he would say that," she said as she set her coat and purse down into a chair a few down from me. "He has family. Me. Josh his brother, and our dad."
I sat up in the chair. My back had cramped and Black Brandon was nowhere and I felt alone against Susan.
Does even Black Brandon hide from his family?
"Strange. Why did he say otherwise?"
"He didn't grow up with us. I guess maybe he felt like he didn't actually have family. I don't know."
I wanted to say we would ask him when he woke up, but I couldn't bring myself to assume either way and realizing that closed my throat and I choked and coughed.
"Oh, you okay?" Susan asked.
"Fine," I said, catching my breath. "Did they tell you what happened? What;s going on? Anything? They wouldn't tell me and my fucking brain keeps going to the worst places and I've been panicking all night..."
"They did."
"And?"
She turned her mouth downward and a great chasm opened up in me and an insatiable vacuum began to suck all love and beauty and joy and logic from the world. I will never forget her face. Later, I realized she hadn't been sad or distraught the whole time. Only once she had to answer me.
"How much do you know?" she asked.
"Nothing. They just said he was in an accident but wouldn't tell me anything because I wasn't family."
"Okay. I know you were close. Friends and roommates and everything, but I need you to bear with me please. At least until I finish."
"You're making me nervous."
"Brandon was hit."
"What do you mean? How?" I could feel my heart again, only for a second as it began to pump a bit faster, a bit harder. Something about an explanation made everything worse. Made everything real. Something about an explanation stole all hiding from you.
"Okay. According to the doctor, and the police and according to witness' on the scene, Brandon was pulled over on the interstate. On the shoulder. And apparently it was all snowy and icy here last night?"
"Yes." I spoke slowly.
"He was outside of his car. On the shoulder and scraping his back windshield..."
"His fucking defroster. I told him..."
She looked at me and continued. "Well, some car tried to pass him, on the right, and hit him. A man there who was going twenty or so he says, says he saw it all. The car hit him and Brandon flipped over it and hit the pavement, and the man pulled over and whoever hit him drove off and the man called 911. That's about all I know."
"Fucking god. Jesus. Is he going to be okay? Did they say? Is he okay?"
She took a deep breath. It filled her and I saw every moment of it and the world slowed and I saw every moment of everything and I heard all sounds and saw all sights and I was everything and I was everywhere as she said; "No."
I felt my body begin to collapse. Crumble. "What do you mean?"
"Tests apparently came back this morning. Before I woke you up."
"And?" My voice sounded weak. Nearly a whisper.
"They, um, he's not there."
"What? What the fuck does that mean?"
"He's not showing any brain activity. They think that when he hit the pavement he, well, he's brain dead."
"Just like that?"
She didn't say anything.
"Well, fuck, what do they do? What can be done? I mean, he's still alive though, right? He can come back. He's still in there. Still in bed. I mean just, he can heal and he'll be fine. Right? Surgery or, something? Right?"
She had large brown eyes and now I saw that she looked like Brandon and I thought that maybe she could be my friend now and I thought that maybe she was Brandon now and that was why I never heard of her before and I thought that this was Black Brandon too. Breaking the news to me.
It's not okay you fucker! It's not okay!
Susan wasn't Brandon. She wasn't Black Brandon. She was Susan.
"I have to sign the order," she said.
"The order?" I realized I was crying.
"To take his body off of life support."
"What?" I stood up. "You can't! He could make a recovery! He could be fine! You can't tell after one fucking night! You can't! People lie in comas for years and then their back! He could be fine again! He could be fine! You can't just kill him! Who the fuck are you? You don't even exist to him!"
She took her purse and stood. "This isn't a coma. He isn't coming back. I'm sorry." She faked a smile and walked out and toward the Critical Unit.
I followed her. "You have no right! You don't even exist to him! You don';t exist!"
Her pace quickened and so did mine. She walked into the Critical Care Unit and I followed only a few steps behind.
"Brandon had no family! You fucking murdering bitch! You don't even exist! I am Brandon's family!"
A nurse came running over to me and took my arms and began to pull me back toward the door. "No! Don't touch me!"
"Sir!" the nurse said. "I have to ask you to leave. We can't have that going on."
I looked at the nurse and I was sobbing and my chest had finally cracked wide open. "Please don't let her kill my friend," I said.
Susan kept her back to me.
"Susan! Please! Please don't kill my friend!"
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