windowsill. Amy was curled up in a chair next to Julia’s bed, looking even more diminished than the day before. She stiffened as Celia leaned over Julia’s bed and adjusted her pillow.
“How was Julia’s night?” Sarah asked. The room was eerily quiet, and she sensed a palpable tension between Celia and Amy. She hoped Jack and Hal would arrive soon.
Amy rubbed her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “She hasn’t woken up yet, but the nurse said her vitals are stable.”
“That’s good news,” Celia said. “Now maybe you can go home and get some rest.”
“I’m fine,” Amy said shortly. She stood and stretched. “Where are Hal and Jack?”
“They peeked in on Julia for a few minutes and then the doctor wanted to go over a few of Julia’s tests with them,” Celia explained. “When’s the last time you’ve eaten? Why don’t you go down to the cafeteria and get something?”
“Jesus, Celia, I said I’m fine,” Amy answered, crossing her arms in front of her just as a high-pitched beeping erupted from Julia’s heart monitor.
“What’s happening?” Amy asked fearfully as all eyes swung toward Julia. Julia’s body went rigid, her face contorting into a tight grimace. The heavy hospital bed rocked with her spasms and Julia’s eyes opened and rolled back into her head so that only the whites showed.
“Go get someone,” Sarah yelled, frantically reaching for the nurse’s call button. Celia hurried from the room in search of help.
“Do something!” Amy beseeched, her eyes wide and panicked.
Moments later, Celia raced into the room with two nurses. Jack, Hal and Dean were close behind. “What’s happening?” Hal shouted in horror as Julia convulsed in the bed. Jack reached for Sarah’s hand and squeezed it tightly.
“She’s having a seizure,” one of the nurses said as they expertly rolled Julia onto her side. She produced a syringe and injected it directly into Julia’s IV. Her body shuddered violently.
“What is that? What did you do?” Amy cried.
“Lorazepam,” a nurse said, her voice caught in the frenzy of the beeping machines and Julia’s moans. “To stop the seizure.”
“Why is she making that noise?” Hal asked helplessly. “Is she in pain?”
“It isn’t working,” Amy yelled, pushing her way to Julia’s bedside. She bumped the vase of flowers and it cartwheeled and shattered as it struck the floor. Shards of glass flew everywhere and a puddle of water formed on the floor next to Sarah’s feet.
Sarah sidled back into a corner, trying to stay out of the way as Jack tried to pull Amy from Julia’s bedside where she was grasping for Julia and getting in the way of the nurses. “Let them do their work,” he urged.
“It’s not working. The medicine isn’t helping,” Amy cried. “Please make it stop,” she begged as Julia continued to writhe in her bed, a foul odor rising from the sheets. Amy clapped a hand over her nose and mouth.
The seconds ticked by like hours. The nurse grabbed another syringe and injected it into the IV. How long could this last? Sarah wondered.
Slowly, Julia’s body relaxed, her face smoothed and her hands uncurled, but the heart machine continued to beep rapidly.
“What’s wrong?” Amy asked the nurses who were standing over Julia, watching her carefully. “Why is it still making that sound? Don’t just stand there, do something!”
“She has a do-not-resuscitate order,” Dean said under his breath, so softly that Sarah was sure she was the only one who heard him.
“Do something,” Amy pressed, her voice rising as she spiraled into hysteria. She clutched onto the nurse’s sleeve violently, begging her not to let her aunt die.
“She’s DNR,” Dean repeated, this time more loudly.
“What does that mean?” Amy cried as she leaned into Jack, tears streaming down her face. “Why aren’t they helping her? Make them help her.”
“They can’t. She doesn’t want any heroic measures keeping her alive,” Dean explained.
The heart monitor blipped frenetically and Amy pressed her hands to her ears as if trying to block out the sound. Gradually, Julia’s chest stopped moving and the beeps stretched into one continuous, mournful cry.
“No!” Amy cried as she pulled away from Jack and lunged toward the bed. “Please don’t leave me,” she begged, pressing her lips against Julia’s warm cheek. Amy lowered her head and her brokenhearted keening became entangled with the mechanical scream of the heart monitor until they became one. A nurse reached over and turned off the machine. The only sound in the room was Amy’s weeping.
Hal approached his wife’s side on unsteady legs and reached for her hand. A dry sob came from deep within his chest; he leaned over the bedside rail and murmured into Julia’s ear.
Sarah watched as Hal went slack with helplessness. She went to his side and reached for his hand. His fingers were ice-cold.
Dean tried to stifle a cry and Celia buried herself in his chest. Hal slowly lowered himself into a chair, his face a map of disbelief.
A nurse carefully removed the oxygen mask from Julia’s face and began to unhook the monitors from her chest. “Stop,” Amy yelled, clawing at the nurse’s arm again, trying to pull her away from the machines. Her eyes were filled with fury.
“Amy!” Celia exclaimed in horror as the nurse, wide-eyed, tried to shake her off. Celia grabbed Amy’s hands and she released the nurse, whose arm was lined with angry red scratches that bloomed with blood.
Sarah watched in disbelief as Amy squirmed from Celia’s grasp and shoved past them, out of the room.
“Are you okay?” Celia asked.
“I’m fine,” the nurse said, clearly shaken, blotting her bloody arm with a tissue.
“Shouldn’t someone go after her?” Sarah asked, heart pounding.
“No, just let her go,” Jack said. “Let her cool off.”
“Jesus Christ, she’s fucking crazy,” Dean hissed, his voice tense with anger.
“Please!” Hal interjected. “For God’s sake, have some respect for your mother.” Everyone froze and a mix of shame and grief washed over them. Hal’s head fell heavy in his hands and the room filled with the soft sobs of a man who just lost his wife. “Fifty years,” he said mournfully. “We were married fifty years.” He looked up from his hands, his eyes wet and bloodshot. “Fifty years and she had to leave me this way?”
The nurse watched from the doorway as Jack’s family seemed to collapse under the weight of their own grief. “I’ll have to ask you to step out for a few minutes, Mr. Quinlan,” she said kindly. “We’ll take care of your wife and get the room cleaned up, then you can come back in and take as much time as you need.”
The room looked like a war zone. The floor was slick with water and flower petals. Shards of glass from the broken vase crunched beneath their feet. Hal remained by Julia’s side until Dean gently took his arm and guided him from the room. Sarah bent down and picked up the handmade quilt that had fallen to the floor. She folded it neatly and draped it over the back of a chair.
Jack paused at Julia’s bedside and looked down at the woman who had welcomed him into her home after his parents had died. He whispered into her ear and lightly brushed her cheek with his fingers.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the nurse said. “We have to ask you all to step out, please.”
Sarah held her hand out to Jack. Together they stepped into the hallway and Sarah pulled him into her arms. “It’s going to be okay,” she murmured. She felt Jack’s heart thrumming against his chest.