Page 18 of Death Row
Beep, beep, beep, beep . . .
“It’s too soon.” It’s Noel’s voice, suddenly in the room with me as well. Why is he here? Chaplains aren’t allowed in the room during executions. “It’s only been a month. She ... she still might wake up. It’s possible, isn’t it, Dr. Bowman?”
“I’m sorry, but the chances are remote.” It’s the voice of my lawyer again, Clarence Bowman, but why did Noel call himDr.Bowman? “She hasn’t made any attempts to breathe on her own since the accident. The scans show her brain ismore blood than brain. At this point, I would say there’s no hope of her ever waking up.”
Not making any attempts to breathe on my own? I try to open my mouth to ask what he’s talking about, but then I realize there’s a tube down my throat. I try to swallow, but the pain is intense. My throat feels like it’s on fire. And that beeping isrelentless. How can anyone stand it?
“Youcan’tdo this.” It’s Noel again, his voice choked up. “You’ve got to give her more time ...”
“I’m sorry.” Bowman—Dr.Bowman—sounds genuinely sad. “Your wife has an advanced directive, though. She didn’t want to be kept alive this way, and we have to honor her wishes. We’ve waited as long as we can. We even had Father Decker come in yesterday to give her last rites.”
“No.” I become aware of the sensation of Noel’s hand gripping mine. I try to squeeze him back, to let him know I’m still in here, but I can’t. I can only lie there, letting the machines push air into my lungs. “Please, no. Please don’t do this, Dr. Bowman. Not now ...”
“Rhea washed her up and brushed her hair this morning,” Dr. Bowman says in a gentle voice. “Now she’s going to inject a sedative in her IV, and then we’ll turn off the ventilator. She’ll go quickly after that.”
“Don’t worry.” It’s Rhea’s voice now, speaking in that same gentle tone. “It will be quick and she won’t feel any pain. I promise.”
Noel squeezes my hand tighter. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard him cry before, but the sound is unmistakable. “Wake up, Talia,” he pleads with me. “Please wake up. I love you so much.”
“She knows you love her,” Rhea tells him. “I’m sure she knows. And now she’s moving on to a happier place. This willreleaseher.”
Noel doesn’t reply. He’s still crying.
“Okay then,” Dr. Bowman says. “I’m turning off the ventilator now.”
Noel clings to my hand as the last whoosh of air is pushed into my lungs. And then the sounds around me fade out slowly, like a song that is coming to an end.
Epilogue
Learn to drive, you lunatic!”
A horn blares loudly as I blow through the stop sign. My head is spinning, and I wipe tears from my eyes. I need to get myself under control. That damn Mack truck nearly hit me. I would have been killed.
As I continue on my way home, something is tugging at me. Something that feels like a memory or a dream or ... I don’t even know what. But I wasn’t asleep, so how could I have been dreaming? It doesn’t make any sense.
It’s another five minutes of driving before I get back to my house. Noel is sitting on the rocking chair on our front porch, reading a book. He puts it down when he sees me and meets me at my car.
“Hey.” He grins at me, and I get this odd sensation of having missed him, but not actually. My God, I can’t believe how close I came to doing something horrible. “The firefighters said the oven was fine; the knob just got stuck somehow. I’m sitting outside while the house airs out.”
I can dimly hear a fire alarm going off within the house, a persistent and grating beeping sound. I clear my throat, which burns when I try to swallow. “Good idea.”
“Are you okay? You look ... off.”
“It’s just been a weird day.” I lean against the car, not quite able to support myself. “While I was driving home, I nearly got hit by a truck.”
He looks alarmed. “Whoa.”
“I’m okay,” I say, “but I had this bizarre ‘life flashing before my eyes’ moment. I imagined that ... that I had been in a terrible accident and I was in a coma. And I kept having these dreams about you, except the dreams would always end before you could kiss me.”
“So ...” Noel tilts his head thoughtfully. “What you’re saying is you want to make out?”
I start to laugh, but then something else grabs my attention. The fire alarm seems to have grown louder, even though we’re not even inside the house. “Why is that alarm so noisy?”
He shakes his head. “What alarm?”
“It’s like a ... a beeping sound.”
Beep, beep, beep, beep . . .
