Dan and Ben at Sixty

Dan and Ben at Sixty--Chapter Eight By Ezra Randle

Dan was in a deep slumber in the den, exhausted from the previous day of traveling with a three hour delay in Denver due to sleet and heavy rains, when he heard Jenny's scream, "Dan, wake up."

Then he felt her sitting on the bed near his shoulders and he forced himself to grunt. "What is it?"

"Marie's been in a car accident. The hospital just called. Didn't you hear your phone?"

"I turned it off. What happened?"

"I don't know for sure, but the nurse told me to get there as soon as we can."

He sat up quickly. "Did you get any more information?"

"Just that it's serious."

"What time is it?"

"2:15."

It was raining when he went to bed and his first thought was the practical one of whether the rain had turned to ice. "Have you looked outside?"

"No."

He jumped up, naked, and quickly went to the back door and out to the deck. A light drizzle was still falling, but the surface was not icy. He hurried back in and heard the house phone ringing upstairs and saw the light behind the closed bathroom door, so he dashed up to Jenny's bedroom just as the answering machine kicked in. When he heard the voice of Francine, Marie's roommate, he picked up and she repeated the news of the accident. She didn't know much more than Jenny was told, but added that the streets in the Twin Cities were ice covered, so they should be careful on their drive. Francine was headed to the hospital, and Dan pleaded with her to take a taxi, that he'd pay for it when he got there.

He knew he ought to shower and repack his suitcase, but felt paralyzed, knowing so little, uncertain about how long they'd be away, unable to even begin to make a mental list of what to do first. He heard Jenny's footsteps on the carpeted steps and realized he was still undressed, "I'm going to shower in the basement."

She, too, was stumbling about in uncertainty. "Go ahead. I'll pack. Are you hungry?"

"Just some coffee."

When he returned to her bedroom, her bag was packed and sitting on the bed, so he went back downstairs, mechanically throwing clean underwear and running gear and an extra pair of pants into his bag and tossing his dirties into the nearby basket, but as he opened the closet to take some shirts off hangers, he caught a glimpse of himself in the full length mirror and paused. What could have happened to her that they couldn't give them more information? Was she already dead? No, they would have told Jenny that. He turned toward his phone but didn't know if Jenny had even taken down the number. They would need it before they left, so they could call and call again during the five-hour drive. He was halfway to the phone, intending to call information, when he realized he hadn't taken any shirts off the hangers. He turned back to the closet, then to the phone again realizing Jenny hadn't told him which hospital she was in. Should he make a list before he became any more confused? Jenny came into the den and saw him standing halfway between the closet and the futon bed, frozen into inaction. "I brought you some coffee." When she perceived his uncertainty, she touched his hand, "Dan, just sit for a minute and tell me what to do."

She sat him down on the side of the bed and handed him the mug. He sipped it, sweetened and creamed just as he liked it, and a sense of order returned. "We need to get the phone number of the hospital before we leave."

"It's the university hospital. I called back when you were in the shower, but couldn't get through to anyone who knew about Marie. It's the middle of the night and they're short staffed." She looked at him. "What else do you need to pack?"

"Some shirts. A sweater. I don't know if I packed socks or not. I can't remember."

She sorted through his suitcase and smiled at him, "I'll take care of it. Just sit there."

He watched her add the remaining items he needed, then headed off to the downstairs bathroom and came back with his replenished toiletry kit. "Before I call again, is there anything else?"

"I think that's it. I can call school from the road, when people are up. What about you?" Dan said.

"I think I have everything. I already called work and left a message with Eileen. We should go in a few minutes."

"OK. Just let me think for a bit longer."

She grabbed their bags and took them out to his car. He could hear her talking in the kitchen, so he wandered to his bathroom again to see if there was anything else he needed to take. As he came out, he heard her voice, "OK. In about twenty minutes. Thank you."

He turned off the bathroom light and retreated to the den to do the same. He glanced at Marie's photo on his desk from her middle school swim team. He took it out of the frame and slid it into his shirt pocket and went out to the car.

They watched her breathing assisted by a ventilator, as they had been since she came out of surgery in late morning. The doctors gave them a mixed report about her comatose state. Her internal organs seemed to have been spared damage when her car skidded on the ice, then flipped down the side of the shallow ravine. However, the brain damage was extensive. He couldn't tell if the surgeons were cautiously optimistic or reluctant to tell them the truth, waiting until he and Jenny adjusted for a few more hours--or days. As often as he asked the doctors to repeat the information about her condition, their words would not trigger any connections. One of the doctors perceived the problem and brought a textbook and, using a series of diagrams, re-explained what he earlier described. As he spoke and pointed to the drawings in the text, Dan pictured the inside of her brain and what had been crushed when the side of the car jarred her skull.

As the afternoon wound on, he was able to look at her disfigured head more and more closely without the nausea creeping into his throat. She was without most of her bronze hair which the nursing staff had shaved for the surgery. A third of her face was bandaged and the deep contusions that were visible disfigured what he could remember of her. He was looking at a stranger, an actor in a non-speaking part in a television drama. He frequently glanced at the middle school photo he had taken from home, but her image, smiling at poolside, was too youthful to possibly be the same young woman who breathed mechanically next to him. Jenny had a recent photo of Marie in her handbag, and when he looked at her standing in the shadows of the white pine in their backyard, he could begin to picture what she was just a few hours ago.

A policeman spoke to them briefly in later afternoon, explaining what the authorities thought happened. The rain had quickly turned to ice, and many of the motorists who had been out at 11:30 and were comfortably navigating the roads suddenly lost control. Almost a hundred cars ended in the ditches of Hennepin County over a two-hour period. Marie was rounding a wide curve on the freeway and her spin had turned her five-year old Pontiac into a wild careening and a series of rollovers ending in the shallow ravine to her right. The policeman said it was aberrational that a more gradual progression from the rain to the glaze of ice hadn't occurred, thereby alerting the drivers to slow down. Dan looked at him and could almost step outside of himself and empathize with the grisly task the man was enduring. The man scratched his head and Dan saw the crescents of sweat under his left arm, as he expressed his sorrow one more time. With great kindness in his voice, he reemphasized that the investigation revealed no indications that excessive speed or some other aspect of careless driving or alcohol was a factor. The policeman was as overwhelmed as he was by the vagaries of nature on this March night. It was pointless to inform the officer she was a good young woman and a careful driver without even a speeding violation on her record. None of that counted anymore. The policeman handed him the personal items that had been left in the backseat of the car: several books, a sweatshirt, and her mail from the last few days including a note from a boy named Jeremy. He said goodbye, giving them his card if they needed to reach him.

He told Jenny he would make the initial round of phone calls and went outside into the forty degree, late afternoon air and sat at a picnic bench set aside for hospital employees. He called Jenny's sister, Maggie, and she agreed to spread the word through their side of the family. It took him several tries to reach Jerrad, and his son's initial response was silence. He continued reviewing the details to him, until, suddenly, Jerrad broke through, "Is she going to die?" Dan began choking, unable to continue after he heard Jerrad's voice ask the question he had pushed out of his mind all day, the one he resisted asking the doctors or presented to Jenny. He was unwilling to undermine the possibilities and hopes. He told Jerrad what seemed most appropriate, that he thought not but that she was in critical condition. Jerrad said he would drive up the next morning.

His brother, Darren, was at home and offered to come up from Indiana, but he told him not to, that he would stay in touch. Darren said he would call their father, and Dan thanked him, but after a slight delay, told Darren he would make the call himself. His father's voice sounded farther away than Arizona and so soft and impersonal that relating the events of the past eighteen hours became almost a simple process, much like talking to a stranger in an airport. His father asked only a few questions, but as they were about to end the short conversation, he made a simple request: that Dan call him back each day to give him an update. He agreed though it seemed, at that moment, like an unimportant detail in a day that had sent his sense of priorities skittering along the surface of the courtyard upon which he sat.

An hour later, a nurse came in and told them they had visitors. He let Jenny stay at Marie's bedside, and he went out to greet Francine and a tall, dark-haired young man he had not met before. He gave Francine a hug and glanced over at the man.

"Dan, this is Jeremy...another friend of Marie's."

He shook Jeremy's hand and explained that Marie was resting as comfortably as possible and that the prognosis was guarded. Francine looked at him, "Are you able to see her?"

"She's in ICU and Jenny and I can be in and out, depending on what the nurses are doing. I'm afraid no more visitors than us though."

"We just wanted an update and to see how you and your wife are doing."

The awkwardness of this unexpected meeting reached all three of them, so he said the only sensible thing he could think of, "Would you like to chat a bit in the hospital cafeteria?"

"That would be nice."

"Wait a moment. I'll see if Jenny wants to go with us."

When he told her about the visitors, he could see the reluctance in her face. The fatigue of the day was finally settling into her body and he suspected she had just come out of a light sleep. "I'll go. Try to catch a nap."

He was tempted to have another cup of coffee, but resisted, choosing a bottle of juice instead. Francine declined his offer, but Jeremy filled a large cup with black coffee. They sat in the corner away from the few people who were eating a late afternoon meal. "Francine, what happened last night?"

"She decided to go out. It was late and rainy, but there was no ice when she left. She wouldn't have gone if it was icy."

"Where was she going?"

Francine hesitated, glimpsing over at Jeremy, forcing him to speak, "Mr. Morse, she was coming to see me."

Dan nodded, mostly out of surprise that Marie would go see a young man that late at night, but as well at the soft tone of Jeremy's voice. He waited, anticipating that one of them would have more to say. Francine spoke up, "She wasn't sure she should go that late. She didn't have class until noon, so she made a last minute decision."

That still didn't explain much, so he looked at Jeremy, who tried to smile through the discomfort that almost paralyzed his ability to speak, "Are you two in a relationship?"

Jeremy nodded, still unable or unwilling to say much more. But now Dan's curiosity got the best of him, "Have you been seeing each other long?"

Jeremy finally seemed to understand that he had to respond to these personal yet vital questions, "A few months, off and on. I know it was late, but sometimes we got together like that after we studied. I live several miles from campus and the freeway is the quickest way to get there."

Through his shock and sadness, Dan let the realization that Marie was going to Jeremy's apartment to spend the night settle into his thoughts. Up to this point, he hadn't given serious thought to why she was out driving so late. A burning anger rose within him which he tried to smother, "You asked her to come over?"

Judging by Jeremy's reaction, he had not done well camouflaging his antagonism. "We both agreed to meet. I'm sorry."

"Even though it was so late?"

He nodded for a third time, and now Dan saw Jeremy's tears stream down his face, and his own wrath begin to subside. He watched Jeremy, half a dozen years older than the kids he dealt with daily at school, and began to comprehend that, whatever this romance was or might have become, this young man would be scarred in his own way by the events of the previous night. No one involved would walk away untouched. And what if she was deeply in love with him? Almost against his will, he reached out and touched Jeremy's hand, "It's OK. She was a strong-willed person. If she was determined to see you, that would have been her choice."

"I should have told her it was too late. I wasn't thinking."

Dan's own tears came for the first time that day, but he willed them into the background. "It's easy to have regrets now. Don't make it too hard on yourself." Then he looked over at Francine. "You, either, Francine."

He wanted to ask Jeremy if he loved his daughter and Francine if Marie had talked about how much Jeremy mattered to her, but he simply said, "I think I should get back. Thanks for coming."

Francine said, "I'm praying for her."

"Good."

"Will you call if there's a change?"

"Sure. I have your cell number."

Then he got up and rode the elevator to the first floor and walked out into the deepening dusk.

On the third day, Doctor Stepanski came through as he usually did early in the morning, but this time requested a meeting away from Marie's bedside. They gathered in a small room, a floor down from ICU. He held Jenny's hand and looked up at her. She had lost whatever color she had when they left Monroe. They decided on the first morning that one of them would be at Marie's side at all times, so they agreed to alternate night shifts at the motel two blocks away--every four hours was their goal. But Jenny was reluctant to leave the hospital, so she was more sleep-deprived than he was. Even after Jerrad arrived, which should have given Jenny more freedom to get a full night's sleep, she wouldn't leave. He was reluctant to go off as well, but knew it was folly for both of them to live though this vigil as zombies. Jerrad's visit was a blessing, especially at the motel room. Dan listened to his son breathe when he woke in the middle of the night and allowed Jerrad's exhalations to guide him back to sleep. He found great comfort hearing him putter about the motel bathroom, shaving, walking about the room in a wet towel. He thought of asking Dr. Stepanski to wait a half an hour so he could call Jerrad back at the motel room to join them, but Jerrad needed to sleep as he and Jenny did.

They sat across from the doctor, a man in his mid-thirties, who had been gracious and humane through all of their interactions since they arrived. He seemed to care about Marie and even for these two relentlessly devoted parents, in a personal way well beyond the persona of concern that he was trained to demonstrate to all his patients. Dan convinced himself, after observing the apparent lack of change within Marie throughout these two days, but especially since Jerrad arrived yesterday morning, that part of the doctor's kindness, up to this point, was to delay the inevitable news.

Dr. Stepanski asked them if they wanted any coffee, then smiled when he saw their Styrofoam cups in front of them. "Sorry. This is very difficult for me. You two care so much about your daughter. Marie's so young. But I've got to be honest. It's been over sixty hours, and any hope that Marie's cranial functioning will return is gone. We can keep her alive, indefinitely perhaps, but her brain has suffered so much trauma that she will never be more than what you've been observing since Monday."

He paused and let this news sink in a bit. Dan was stunned to hear the words yet not surprised at the implications. He had refused to discuss this probability with Jenny, and now, as he looked at her, he saw her nod in apparent agreement with the doctor. But she was in such an altered state of mind that what they just heard was not likely reaching her cognition.

"I know this is devastating news. I'd be overwhelmed if I were in your situation. I've asked another specialist to come over this morning, to give a second opinion. I'd want that if I were you. If you know of someone else you'd like to consult, let me know, and I'll make the contact. If you..."

And then he heard the doctor's throat catch. He got up and filled a cup with water, looking away from them. When he turned back, Dan could see him fighting the tears. "I'm so very, very sorry. Please sit here as long as you want. I'll be in the hospital for several more hours if you want to see me again before I leave. Otherwise call, the nurses have my number."

He nodded grimly as he walked out. Dan was in such admiration of the doctor's presentation that he wanted to call out: "Do you have children of your own? Has one of them been in this same situation?" But as the door shut behind him, he was left with the reality of what he and Jenny had just been told. Of course, they didn't know of other doctors in the area for further consultation, and they would dutifully wait for the evaluation of the second specialist before making any decision, but he knew this kind man who just lost his professional face in front of them could not possibly be wrong. Then he realized something more and hurried out after the doctor, who was standing just outside wiping his eyes with his handkerchief. The doctor nodded to him as he touched his aqua medical coat. "I wanted to thank you for your kindness."

The doctor nodded again, unable to respond other than to repeat that he was sorry. "We didn't talk about what comes next?"

The doctor looked puzzled. "Her organs. I think we need to understand the timelines."

"I meant to discuss that with you, but as you can see, I didn't get that far. I can come back later or the recovery coordinator will speak to you."

"Do you have a few minutes now?'

"Certainly. Is this the best time?"

"No. But we need to think about it."

"And your wife?"

"She needs to hear about it from you."

They returned to the room. Jenny looked up, surprised that they had come back, but more deeply sedated as the truth sunk further into her. "Jenny, we need to hear more, about harvesting her organs. Is that OK?"

She nodded and the doctor sat. "By noon, you'll know about Dr. Nelson's assessment. Given it's the same I've just presented to you, time becomes more and more critical. The sooner we can get her organs from her and into recipients, the greater chance of success. Marie is very young and based on everything you've told us, she's remarkably healthy. It is very rare to be able harvest in this way from a young, healthy body. It's very likely all her major organs will find a home within days after you give the go ahead. We already know she's a donor on her driver's license, but we would not proceed without your permission. If you're interested, the coordinator will speak to you this afternoon. We've already addressed the possibility in our team meetings."

"She's our only daughter. This will be the only way she can give further life. Yes, we're interested," Dan said.

"Good. I know this is very difficult, but consideration of time is important."

For the first time, Jenny addressed them, "How much time do we have?"

"It's not an exact science, but every hour matters in terms of the quality of the organs."

"How soon can the harvesting be done?"

"Within twenty-four hours--if you want."

Then there was nothing more to be said and within a few minutes the doctor was gone after letting them know he'd speak with them later in the morning. He looked at Jenny and let his hand touch hers. Initially she didn't respond, but after a few minutes, she opened her hand and took his. She nodded her head as she clutched at his fingers more tightly.

An hour later, Francine arrived, as she had each day, and Dan went out to chat with her in the waiting area. "Any news?"

He thought about telling her but realized their decision was still a bit premature, so he shook his head. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I wish there were." Then he realized she deserved to be with her dear friend one last time. "Francine, would you like to see her?"

She looked at him oddly. "I thought...", then she seemed stymied by the unpredictability of what she was just asked.

"I would like you to see her."

"If you think I should."

"There's not much to see. She doesn't move. They've taken off some of the bandages from her face but she looks like she's been beaten up. So, don't go in if you think it will be too much."

He watched her bite her lip and touch her hair. Such simple things that any young woman might do at any time during her day. He smiled. "Come on. You are her best friend."

Jenny was a bit surprised when she saw them come in, but she immediately got up and gave Francine a hug near the doorway. Then she looked at him and he nodded, "It's OK, honey. Just for a few minutes."

He led her to the bed and like a young animal that sees its mother wounded by the overwhelming power of nature, Francine initial response was to reach out her hand, but it lingered in mid-air. Then she let her fingers move toward Marie, so incrementally it seemed they would never reach her. Finally, Francine touched Marie's inert hand and held it for a minute before she emitted a series of grunts which precipitated the beginning of a sob. She quickly broke down into deep convulsions muttering Marie's name over and over. He looked at Jenny, and she was as stunned as he was. Neither one of them had allowed themselves an outpouring like this throughout the many hours they had watched her. Jenny walked to Francine and pulled her into a loving embrace. A nurse came to the door and he motioned that everything was OK. Francine continued her sobbing and Jenny joined her outpouring of grief, weeping as he had never seen her. His tears welled in his throat and rolled down his cheeks, "Perhaps we should go down to the cafeteria."

Jenny shook her head. "No. If our silence and pleas can't wake her, maybe our wailing can."

He nodded in agreement, then let the tears overwhelm him as he said, "Marie, please don't leave us."

When he asked Jerrad if he wanted to be present at her death early the next morning, Jerrad deferred any decision until he was at her side again. And when he saw her for the last time, the ventilator measuring her life at twenty mechanical repetitions per minute, he broke down for the first time and kissed her goodbye. Later, in the afternoon, as Dan embraced Jerrad just before he was set to drive back to Chicago, Jerrad apologized for his weakness. He kissed his son on his forehead, "You have nothing to be ashamed of. I'm not sure if Mom or I have it in us to be there tomorrow either."

He made phone calls to the key relatives and friends, beseeching them to disseminate the news to the network of people who had been calling over the past few days and to urge them to stop phoning until they received notice of the funeral date. The hours leading up to the end were peaceful and without interruption. While Jenny periodically wept, then stopped just as suddenly, he felt like his ducts were bled dry. As their all-night vigil wound down to an hour before the transition time when shifts changed and doctors reentered the floors, he left Jenny sleeping at Marie's side and walked back to the motel. He showered and shaved and put on fresh clothes, then walked a mile around the hospital complex, his energy numbed by the hours he had been awake in the hospital. He couldn't bear the thought of anymore delay and wanted the organ recovery team to be in place when he arrived. The forms they signed were many fewer than those of four days earlier. Despite what the recovery coordinator told them about the protocol, he still anticipated the end would have its own drama, a grieving father and mother turning off the switch, holding Marie's hand for the last time, watching her breathing diminish until the last gasp, perhaps even the emotional scene from the movies of Marie regaining alertness one last time to signal she knew she was leaving them. But at 7:30, two nurses and a doctor came in and detached everything but the ventilator, which they slowed so she would take fuller, deeper breaths to keep the organs as oxygenated as possible throughout the transition to surgery. As had been explained, there would now be five minutes before they carted her off. The personnel stepped out again, giving them these last minutes of privacy but there was nothing more to do except to say, once again, that they loved her and would miss her. He couldn't even speak the words this time. They each held one of her hands and then the circle was linked when Jenny's fingers slid into his. He squeezed both hands with all his strength and the force brought tears from them both.

The medical team returned and declared that she was legally "brain dead" and quickly moved her body while her heart was still beating and whisked her to surgery. He stayed with the gurney, her hands shaped so much like his still in his grasp, entered the elevator with the team, and followed them to the doors of the surgical unit where the nurse touched his hand that continued to hold Marie's so tightly and said to him, "You have to let us do our work now, so that she can live on in others." He nodded and released Marie and walked back to the elevator. He had nowhere to go except back to Jenny. He found her in the room, packing the remaining items she kept there during their stay. He touched her shoulder and she glanced up, nodding, but she continued to fill the bag. Neither one of them could bear to look at the empty bed.

Thirty minutes later they were back in the motel room. He asked her if she'd like to go out for a late breakfast, but she declined. He began to pack some of his garments strewn about the room, but paused when he realized they weren't leaving until the next day. After the transplant harvest, Jamieson Mortuary would retrieve the body for cremation, but Marie's cremains wouldn't be available for the trip back home until the following afternoon or the day after. As he stood there, he didn't know what to do next and it wasn't until Jenny's voice brought him back that he finally dropped his dirty clothes. "Please lie with me."

He sat on the edge of the queen-sized bed and spoke to her over his shoulder. "You must be tired."

"I'm sure I am."

"You haven't slept for nearly four days."

"More than you think."

Her hand touched his back drawing him alongside her on bed. "Please hold me."

She turned with her back to him and his arms pulled her close to him. "Just let yourself go to sleep while I hold you."

"I'm not ready yet."

He felt her stroke his fingers. "Did you know you nearly broke my fingers back there?"

"I only meant to squeeze Marie's. Sorry."

"Don't apologize. I hope I always remember the pain."

She kissed his hands, slowly, and he let his eyes close as her lips tasted his arms. "I want to tell you a few things. Can you listen while you rest?" Dan said.

"Of course."

"Tell me if you're falling off."

"I don't think I will."

"We've done a wonderful job raising Marie. But it was you more than me. You were just superb. I've always had complete admiration for that."

"We both did it. Taking turns and often together."

"Yes, but you were the primary one. I've always recognized that, but I've never told you. Thank you."

"That's sweet of you."

"I've been on the phone with my dad often each day. I mentioned that, but not how frequent the calls were. He and Marie really clicked on their visits over the past year. He's devastated. He cries every time I reach out to him."

"Marie mentioned how much she loved him."

"Yeah. It was quite moving to see them together. She really wanted to recover what she had missed out on all these years. Due to my stubbornness. I'm sorry I did all that to the family. But Marie was determined to reclaim him."

"I know she was planning on seeing him soon. Traveling on her own next time."

He rubbed her hand. Needing to go on. "Have you been in contact with Maureen since we've come up? I hope you have."

She nodded against his chest. "She wanted to come up. I told her not to."

"I wish she could have been here for you. She would have been better at comforting you than me."

She didn't answer but he could hear her sniffling. "Why don't you go back early. I'll take you back down and come back up for the ashes in a couple of days. You need to see her."

"You'd do that for me?"

"I want to."

After a minute of reflection, she sat up on the side of the bed. She slipped into her shoes, grabbed her phone and walked out. He hoped she'd return feeling he had soothed her, and that Maureen hadn't told her about Ben.

She slipped back in after just five minutes and rejoined him in bed. "Did you reach her?"

"Yes. She'd like to meet us half-way, in Eau Claire. This afternoon. You can come back up here."

"Good idea."

"You're not upset about her being part of this?"

"Not at all. I'm grateful you have someone besides me and your sister."

"That's very generous of you. Willing to share Marie like that."

He pulled her close again, feeling Marie was with them. That she would approve of what he had to say next. "Jenny, there's something else. Maybe Maureen said something on the phone."

"She mostly listened to me."

"It's about me. I've wanted to tell you for months. Years really. I've been very dishonest with you. I've been seeing Ben for a dozen years. Intimately. Off and on."

She turned to him. "What do you mean?"

"Sexually."

"My, God."

"I hate to be telling you now. But you need to know. Maureen knows. Ben told her as they've been working out their divorce agreement."

"Like lovers? Or just sex?"

"Both. I've seen a few other men, too, during that time. It's what I've become. I'm sorry you felt like you had to handle your desires for women on your own. I should have told you then. When you had the courage to tell me about your changes. I was a coward, and I apologize."

"Had you told Marie?"

"No. Just that Dad left my mother because he figured out he was gay. But not about me."

She retreated into silence. "You have every right to be angry. And this is the absolutely wrong time to tell you. But I knew with Maureen, you had to know. Because she knows about Ben and me."

She got up and pulled back the sheets in the second bed. She pulled them up to her face and rolled away from him.

He woke an hour later. Jenny didn't rouse as he dressed and unplugged his cell phone and went out. The cold rain made it impossible to walk, so he unlocked the car and sat in the driver's seat. He glanced at his watch as he heard the fourth and fifth rings, making him wonder if his dad was taking a nap. He'd try again later. He closed the phone, then impulsively rang him up one more time. He heard his voice on the third ring.

"Dad, it's me."

And then he didn't know what to say. "Danny, what's happened?"

He still couldn't say anything. "Danny, are you still there?"

"You asked me to call when she died. By this time, I'm sure they've taken her heart."

"You did the right thing, Danny."

"I know."

Neither one of them said anything for thirty seconds. "You, OK, son?"

"I'll get there, Dad. You remember that spring when I was eleven or twelve and we went down to the Chippewa River to throw in some fishing lines. Out of nowhere hundreds of dragonflies swarmed above our heads, flitting back and forth, hovering in the sky, all sorts of magical colors, like an amusement park lit up in the early evening?"

There was no immediate answer. "It was somewhere down by Bostad's Ramp."

"You asked me what they were doing," his dad said.

"I didn't know much then, about either the birds or the dragonflies."

"I couldn't explain it to you very well."

"I remember some of what you said. You told me it's all energy, making life for the next generation. They weren't thinking about what they were doing because they were so excited and all their arousal was for the next round."

"Did I say that? Did I use that word `arousal'?"

"Yeah. Then you said, people are different. We can hold back, but if we do, we might lose out on the excitement and maybe nothing good would happen down the line."

"Are you sure I said all that?"

"Pretty sure, Dad. But it was a long time ago. I've got to go now."

"Stay in touch."

"I will. Please come to the memorial service. Bring Chester and Robert. Chip, too, if he wants to come."

He set the phone down. The windows were already steamed up, so he rolled his down a crack and felt the rain slice through the slight opening, landing on the back of his hand. He eyed the droplets and watched them run along the hairs on his hand. He raised his hand to his mouth and tasted the rain, then kissed his skin.

The two hour ride to Eau Claire three hours later was mostly in silence. He didn't want to interrupt Jenny's contemplation other than to repeat "I'm sorry" on two occasions. Maureen was waiting for them at a truck stop near Eau Claire. Jenny shot out of the car and ran to her. He watched their long embrace, and smiled, happy he'd made the effort to get them together. He carried Jenny's bags over to Maureen's car, while Jenny dashed off to the bathroom, so he was left to make conversation with Maureen. "Thanks for making the effort to be here. I would have driven her to Madison if you hadn't."

Maureen nodded. "I'm so sorry about Marie. I can't even at imagine what it's like."

"Thanks. It's been really tough on both of us. More on Maureen than me."

"Why's that?"

"She's taking it harder. I don't think it's just a mom thing."

"But you must feel bereft too?"

"O, yeah. It's been brutal."

"Have you talked with Ben?"

"Yeah. Most days. He's been very helpful. Thanks for asking."

"I spoke with him, too. He's worried about you. Go see him when you get back."

"Thanks."

Jenny returned, and he watched Maureen drive them away. He went inside the restaurant and sat at the counter. The waitress asked what he wanted. "Just a water and a slice of apple pie. Be right back."

He peed and looked at himself in the mirror as he washed his hands. He didn't think he looked as bad as Jenny. He wore a washed out look like she did, but he'd probably slept twice as much as she had over the past four days. The lines on his face seemed drawn into a look of sorrow. He wondered if those scars from his grief would ever leave his forehead or from just under his eyes. Right now, they looked permanently etched into his skin.

He ate two bites of the pie and left a ten dollar tip. As he was driving west again, he called Ben, but it went to voice mail. He next tried Roland who answered on the second ring. "Dan, so happy you called. Where are you now?"

He first asked if he knew about Marie. Roland quickly summarized what Ben had told him. "Is there more I should know?"

"That's pretty much it. I'm headed back to the Cities to wait for her ashes. I just dropped Jenny off in Eau Claire."

"Where are you staying?"

"At the motel near the hospital."

"Please check out of the motel and come over here. Spend tonight and as many nights as you need with us."

"Are you sure it's OK?"

"Yes. We're having supper at six. Will you be here by then?"

"Yes, maybe a little earlier."

"Good. We want to hold you and tell you face-to-face how sorry we are."

He gathered his things from the room and the motel did not charge him for the night. He figured the motels in the hospital zone dealt with these unusual departures with regularity. His spirits lifted as he pulled into Roland and Orvy's driveway, but then collapsed a bit as he recognized he would have to go through a thorough explanation of what had happened to Marie. Both Roland and Orvy quickly hurried out the garage door to the driveway as he sat there pondering what he would tell them. He got out of his car and they immediately hugged him, first individually then as a twosome. He started crying at their generosity, and soon all three were weeping as they stood next to his car. "Come in. Roland will get your stuff," Orvy said.

"Just the blue bag in back."

He followed them into the kitchen. "Anything to drink?" Orvy said.

"Just water. If I have alcohol I might pass right out."

Orvy handed him a bottle of water. Roland took his hand. "Ben has kept us updated. Several times a day. Including what happened today with her organs. That was very brave of you."

"I've talked with him every day. He didn't mention he'd been talking with you. Thank him for me when he calls next. I probably won't see him for a few days."

"We'd invited Ben's friend, Gary, over for dinner a few days ago. He knows you're here and said he didn't have to come if it would be too awkward."

"It's fine. I'd love to meet him. Does he know everything?"

"Ben's kept him up to date as well. He's as sad as we are."

"So, yeah, let him come. I probably won't be awake much beyond dinner."

"Understandable. Why don't you lie down in your room. We'll call you when we're ready."

Dan immediate stretched out on the king-sized bed. He recalled sleeping in the room with Ben years ago. Every aspect of being here felt familiar and soothing. He was nodding off when his phone dinged with a text from Jenny.

"Made it back fine. I'm very sorry about the way I reacted earlier when you revealed your secret. Maureen talked some sense into me. You certainly could have told me earlier about you and Ben. Much earlier. But I don't blame you. You and I will find a way. And we have the memorial service coming up. We need to join hands for the sake of all those we know and love. They need to grieve in front of us. Let's show them a united front. Forgive me again. Love you.

Jenny

He smiled at her generosity and fell off into sleep, like he'd just tumbled off a cliff into a dark forest. He woke as Roland touched his arm as he sat the side of the bed. "If you need to sleep, go ahead. We're going to eat in a few. Gary is here. It's up to you."

"I want to join you. Give me five minues."

He washed his face and brushed his teeth and went out to join the men. Gary stood as he approached the men at the dining table. He offered his hand to Dan, but Dan opened his arms widely and Gary embraced him with vigor. "I feel like I know you well, Dan. And I'm incredibly sad over what's happened to Marie. Ben's kept me in the loop. Please accept my condolences."

"Thanks. That's very sweet."

Roland and Orvy went to the kitchen and returned with two gorgeous handmade pizzas and a large bowl of salad. The men ate in silence, until Dan finally said, "I'd prefer it if you ask me questions. Rather than ignore the elephant."

They all laughed and Gary had the most spirited thoughts. Wondering how, out of the blue, you adjust to the news and then to the inevitability. Dan nodded and spoke for five minutes while they all stopped eating and listened. "In the end, it's what we had to do. Live it and adjust on the fly. But to see my child die as she was settling into the prime of her life was something I'll never get used to. Jenny either. After she went into surgery for harvesting her organs, Jenny and I went back to our motel room. Neither of us had slept much. I told her what a great mom she'd been."

Then Dan laughed, like some element of silliness had entered his demeanor, likely brought on by his days of not sleeping well. His guard was down. "As she was grieving, I reminded her I was still fine with her relationship with Maureen. And I didn't stop. I revealed that I was gay and that Ben had been my first lover. That we loved each other in every way she could imagine."

Gary dropped his fork on the dinner plate. "What the fuck!"

The three of them looked at Dan like he'd gone far off the deep end. Gary was the only one with audacity to say anything. "With all due respect, Dan, that was a little heavy on the self-disclosure, don't you think?"

Dan nodded. "Absolutely. But I was long overdue telling her the last thing. And the news about Jenny and Maureen was still fresh in my mind. As I said, I was off kilter. My filters for appropriate disclosures were ripped out."

"What did she say?" Gary asked.

"She was grateful about me taking her halfway home to meet Maureen in Eau Claire, so they could help each other out. But she wouldn't say a word to me after I told her I'm gay."

"I give you high marks for boldness, Dan," Roland said.

"Even if you knocked the legs out from under her after they had been decimated by Marie's death," Gary said.

"I think I just told you three way too much. I'm very sorry. I need to go to sleep and regain myself."

Dan thanked them and retreated to his bedroom. He stripped down to his underwear and t-shirt and got under the sheets. Roland came in ten minutes later. "You OK?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry for acting so foolishly."

"No one's blaming you for anything. I brought you a mild sedative, if you think you need it."

He set the pill and a bottle of water on the bedside stand. "Thanks. I think I'll take it."

After he ingested the pill, Roland stood up. "By the way, Gary would like to talk with you. He's feeling terrible about what he said at the table and wants to apologize. He understands if you don't want to see him."

Dan laughed. "What the fuck, send him in, Roland. And thanks. Tell Orvy how much staying her means to me."

Roland squeezed Dan's hand. "Will do. I'll send Gary in."

Gary slipped inside of the partially opened door, then shut it behind him but remained standing near the door. "Hey, can't tell you how much I regret what I said at dinner. I was out of line. Tremendously out of line."

Dan sat up against the head of the bed, the bedding pulled up to his chest. "I've already forgotten about it. Come on in. Sit down a minute."

Gary hesitantly approached the bed. Dan patted the bed and Gary sat down. "When you said that stuff at dinner, you reminded me of someone we both know quite well," Dan said.

Gary smiled. "Ben can be quite irreverent. And I've been that way from well before I met him."

"How's he doing?"

"He's worried about you. We all are. He'll be glad to see you when you head back home."

"That'll be either tomorrow or the day after."

"Are you guys working on the funeral thing yet, or is that too much at this point."

"Jenny said she and Maureen will work it out. Hope they do. It's the last thing I want to get involved with."

"I should get going. I've already overstayed my welcome."

"No. I'd like you to stay if you don't mind. Stretch out beside me."

"Are you sure?"

"We're not going to have sex the first time we meet," Dan laughed.

Gary stretched out on top of the bedding. "I know that. I just don't know if I should comfort you like this. You're Ben's friend."

"You remind me of him. Can I just pretend you're him and you're here to comfort me?"

Dan moved close to Gary even though the bedding separated them. "Would you get under the sheets with me? You can keep your clothes on."

Gary slipped off his shoes and got under the sheets. Dan rolled toward him so they were in spooning position. "Put your arm around me, please."

Ben lifted his left arm around Dan's shoulders and let his right hand rest on Dan's chest. "That's very nice. I just took a sleep med that Roland gave me. I might nod off."

"It would be good if you did."

"If I do, just let me be. You can get out of here then."

"Ben told me you comforted him quite a bit after Ellie died."

"Yeah. Like two old friends. Being lovers had very little to do with it."

"If you don't mind, what was he like back then? After she died."

"He ended up taking medication for his depression. He could barely feel the world. Locked down within himself. Sometimes he'd cry. Other times it was like he was frozen in his grief."

"You helped get him out of that?"

"He was seeing a therapist. Some of it was the grief running its course. It can only go on so long. Then he was ready to resume being Ben. He started feeling better. I don't know how much of it was me. Probably very little."

"He believes you were instrumental. Which is why he wants to do everything he can to help you now."

"Even if that means he might love me more than you in the short term?"

"Some people are worth it."

Dan laughed. "That's very sweet. Ben said you are very endearing with your sweetness."

Dan rubbed Gary's hand that rested on his chest. "Rub your hand on me."

Gary gently rubbed his fingers across Dan's belly and chest. "Like that?"

"Slide it under my t-shirt."

"You said we wouldn't have sex."

"I don't want to have sex. Just want you to make me feel better. Like you care about me."

Gary slid his hand and continued rubbing his fingers from Dan's neck to the waistband of his underwear. "I don't think I could get aroused even if your hand was in my shorts."

Gary giggled. "Lucky you. I'm already half hard. And I shouldn't be. So I hope you fall asleep soon."

Dan laughed hard. "That's very funny. You sound just like him. I'm falling asleep. Don't worry. Just keep rubbing me."

Gary's hand slid up and down Dan's belly and chest until he could feel Dan was asleep. The breathing was getting deeper, and Dan was fading quickly. When he pulled his hand free, Dan clutched it. "Don't stop, Ben. Don't."

Gary let his hand rest on Dan's belly until he was snoring. He freed his hand and sat on the edge of the bed. He put on his shoes, straightened up his jeans, and tucked in his shirt. He watched Dan breathe and turned out the bedside lamp.