Leni knew she shouldn’t speak, but there was no way to hold back. “Don’t leave us, Matthew … please…”
Mr. Walker gave Leni a terrible, agonized look.
Matthew took a great, gulping, gasping breath.
The alarm silenced itself.
“He’s breathing on his own,” the doctor said.
He’s back, Leni thought with a staggering relief. He’ll be fine.
“Thank God,” Mr. Walker said on a sigh.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” the doctor said, and the room went quiet. “Matthew may breathe on his own but never wake up. He may remain in a persistent vegetative state. If he does wake, he may have substantial cognitive impairment. Breathing is one thing. Life is another.”
“Don’t say that,” Leni said too softly for anyone to hear. “He might hear you.”
“He will be okay,” Aly murmured. “He’ll wake up and smile and say he’s hungry. He’s always hungry. He’ll want one of his books.”
“He’s a fighter,” Mr. Walker added.
Leni couldn’t say anything. The high she’d felt when he took that first breath had gone. Like getting to the top of a roller coaster: there was a nanosecond of pure exhilaration before the headlong plunge into fear.
*
“THEY’RE DISCHARGING YOU TODAY,” Mama said while Leni stared up at the television suspended on the wall in her hospital room. Radar was babbling some story to Hawkeye on M*A*S*H. Leni hit the off button. She’d spent years wishing she could watch TV. Now she couldn’t care less.
Really, she had trouble caring about anything except Matthew. Her emotions were impossible to access. “I don’t want to go.”
“I know,” Mama said, stroking her hair. “But we have to leave.”
“Where will we go?”
“Home. But don’t worry. Your dad’s in jail.”
Home.
Four days ago, when she’d been in that crevice with Matthew, hoping against hope that they’d be rescued before he died in her arms, she’d told herself they’d be okay. Matthew would be fine, they’d go to college together, and Mama would come to Anchorage with them, get an apartment, maybe serve drinks at Chilkoot Charlie’s and collect big tips. Two days ago, when she’d watched them pull the tube from Matthew’s mouth and seen him breathe on his own, she’d had a split second of hope, and then it had crashed on the rocks of may never wake up.
Now she saw the truth.
There would be no college for her and Matthew, no do-over as a pair of ordinary kids in love.
There was no way to lie to herself anymore, to dream of happy endings. All she could do was be there for Matthew and keep on loving him.
I think you stand by the people you love. That was what he’d said, and it was what she would do.
“Can I see Matthew before I go?”
“No. He’s got an infection in his leg. They won’t even let Tom get near him. But we’ll come back as soon as we can.”
“Okay.”
Leni felt nothing as she dressed to go home.
Nothing.
She shuffled through the hallway beside her mother, the casted arm held in close to her body, nodding at the nurses who told her goodbye.
Did she smile in acknowledgment? She didn’t think so. Even that small a thing was beyond her. This grief was unlike any emotion she’d experienced before, suffocating, weighty. It pulled the color from everything.
They found Mr. Walker in the main waiting area, pacing, drinking black coffee from a Styrofoam cup. Alyeska was seated in a chair beside him, reading a magazine. At their entrance, both tried to smile.
“I’m sorry,” Leni said to them.
Mr. Walker came closer. He touched her chin, forced her to look up. “No more of that,” he said. “We Alaskans are tough, right? Our boy will pull through. He’ll survive. You’ll see.”
But wasn’t it Alaska that had nearly killed him? How could a place be as alive as Alaska, as beautiful and cruel?
No. It wasn’t Alaska’s fault. It was hers. Leni was Matthew’s second mistake.
Alyeska moved in beside her father. “Don’t you give up on him, Leni. He’s a tough kid. He made it through Mom’s death. He’ll get through this, too.”
“How will I know how he’s doing?” Leni asked.
“I’ll give updates on the radio. Peninsula Pipeline. Seven P.M. broadcast. Listen for them,” Mr. Walker said. “We’ll bring him home as soon as we can. He’ll recover better around us.”