For Mac (32 page)

They sat there for at least another half hour. Branson was so still, had been so still all day that Liam really was becoming quite worried for him. But he was determined to give him his space, as much as he could without actually letting go of him, because he was every bit as resolute to never leave him alone with all this.

“You want to go now?” Branson’s voice was so soft, Liam wasn’t exactly sure he had spoken at all.

“Do
you
want to go now?” he whispered, only marginally louder, into Branson’s hair.

It took a while to actually receive an answer, but then Bran answered in a weak voice, “Yeah, let’s go now.”

When they got to Branson’s house, Liam led him in and sat him at the kitchen table. He prepared some quick sandwiches and sat one down in front of Bran. He didn’t even seem to notice. After a good ten minutes of waiting for Branson to pick it up, Liam cut the sandwich into bite-size pieces, picked one up and touched it to Bran’s lips.

At first he didn’t think that was going to get any reaction. Finally Branson opened his mouth enough for Liam to push the bite between his lips. Bran seemed to chew and swallow automatically. He still wasn’t looking at Liam or responding much at all with that one exception, but Liam would take it for now.

He picked up another bite and held it at Branson’s lips. Bran opened up right away this time but showed no more awareness than that. They finished the entire sandwich that way.

Liam got up to get something for Bran to drink.
Chocolate milk might be good
, he thought. If he wasn’t going to actually get much food into Bran, he wanted everything he did accomplish to be nutritional. White milk would probably have been better, but Bran didn’t have any. So Liam got a glass and filled it halfway with chocolate milk. He didn’t want to try too much at a time. Across the entire day, Branson had eaten exactly one sandwich—the one he just finished—and the two bites of fruit salad at lunch. Somehow, he didn’t think loading his stomach now would be a good idea.

Almost as an afterthought, Liam grabbed a straw and put it in the glass. When he got back to the table, Bran hadn’t stirred at all. Liam touched the straw to Branson’s mouth, and nothing happened for a while.

“Come on,
mo chroí
,” Liam whispered. “Drink something.”

Branson took a couple of sips and turned away. Liam didn’t really like the idea of that small sandwich and two sips of milk being the only thing Bran had to eat for dinner but it was better than nothing, and the move away from the glass was more life, more awareness, than Bran had shown in a while, so Liam counted it a win.

He led Branson to the couch, turned on the TV and DVD, and sat down beside him. Bran immediately curled up against Liam’s side, and they sat in front of the TV as episodes of
Pretender
played in the background. Liam would have bet good money that neither of them could have said what any of the episodes had been about.

Somewhere along the line, Liam had stretched out against the back of the sofa and enfolded Branson in his arms as they watched, dozing off and on. Liam woke up around ten o’clock and decided to try to get Branson into bed. He had had very different plans for them this evening, especially in regards to bed, but their relationship had never been all about sex and never would be, Liam vowed. Branson needed his care right now, not his passion, and that’s exactly what he’d get.

Branson walked like an automaton, led to the bedroom by Liam. When Liam handed Branson his sleep pants, expecting him to take them and change clothes, he was only mildly surprised when Branson did neither one. Liam thought about undressing Bran so he’d be more comfortable, but he decided to let him sleep in his clothes. It wouldn’t kill him, and it would give him some privacy in the process.

Liam turned down the covers and got Branson tucked in on what had become his side. Then he had a moment of indecision. They had been sleeping together pretty much every night for several weeks now. Should he climb in beside Branson? Just to hold him. Or should he go to the couch, let him have some distance. The thought of going to his own home tonight didn’t cross his mind for more than a fleeting moment. There was no way he was going to leave Bran alone tonight, not that alone.

He had decided that he would go sleep on the couch, but when he touched Branson’s hand and told him that, Bran slowly turned his hand over and grasped Liam’s. He didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at Liam, but the message was clear. Liam stripped off his shirt and crawled in on his side of the bed but couldn’t stay there. He moved over behind Branson and spooned up close, draping his arm across Bran’s middle and pulling him close.

Branson covered Liam’s hand with his, and they fell asleep.

T
HE
NEXT
morning was quiet, but Branson was moving around more normally and responding when Liam spoke to him. Liam had been worried about Bran’s lack of response last night, but he had shown enough awareness to let Liam know he wasn’t totally gone. Liam had thought a half-dozen times about calling Dr. Luxton. Branson had given him her number and his permission to call her if Liam ever felt he needed to on Branson’s behalf. As long as Branson showed any sign of awareness, he had hesitated to take that step. He had absolutely decided to call her this morning, though, if Branson was acting the same way. He was glad to see that Bran was behaving more like himself, so he didn’t have to.

He certainly had reason to be quiet, and as long as Liam didn’t feel his behavior crossed into unresponsive, he was willing to let him have his peace.

Finally, though, it was Branson himself who brought up the inevitable conversation.

“You think I should do it?” he all but whispered while he sat at the kitchen table pushing around Cheerios in his bowl.

“It depends on what ‘it’ is.” Liam tried to inject the tiniest amount of levity.

“Either…. DNR or actually disconnect Mac from the vent,” Branson clarified, though his face showed that he knew he didn’t need to.

“I think you should do exactly what
you
think you should do.”

“You’re no help.” Branson grinned, though, letting Liam know that he didn’t mind the nonadvice.

“I don’t want to tell you what to do, Bran. It needs to be your decision, so that you can be comfortable with it, whatever the outcome.”

Branson was quiet for a while longer, then said, “They’re having more and more trouble getting Mac back each time his heart stops. One of these times, they won’t be able to. So I could just do nothing.”

“You could,” Liam agreed. “They might decide to put in a pacemaker, though. That’s one possibility. Then he wouldn’t code.”

Branson deflated. “But I’d have to sign for that, right?”

“Yes,” Liam agreed, knowing Branson would come to the expected conclusion.

“So it would still be withholding treatment if I didn’t sign.” Branson’s expression dropped even more. “So, same situation… different details.”

“Pretty much.” Liam was trying to walk a fine line between being supportive and giving advice. He didn’t want to take any chance that he would accidentally make this decision for Bran. He had seen families before appear to agree about this kind of choice, and then one turned on the other as having “told them to do this.” What should have brought families together ended up tearing them apart. He wouldn’t set up that situation with Bran.

“You’re not being helpful.” Bran was getting frustrated, apparently.

“I’m being supportive, but I don’t want to make the decision for you, Bran. You know Mac better than I do. You are the best one to decide what he would have wanted.”

Branson seemed to think about it for a while. “He probably would have wanted me to decide this as soon as it looked like he wasn’t going to wake up.”

“You had to give him a chance.” Liam did put in his opinion about that. “You couldn’t jump the gun and take him off life support while he still had a chance of getting better.” Liam wanted to say, “Like Mr. J.’s son did.” But he knew that wasn’t really fair. Mr. J. hadn’t had any hope of getting better either. He had already been brain-dead.

“So you don’t think he has any chance of getting better?” Bran looked like he hoped Liam would assure him that Mac would wake up tomorrow.

“We’ve discussed this before,” Liam said carefully. “I guess there’s always a chance. I can’t say with one hundred percent certainty that there is no chance. But it hasn’t seemed likely for a while now. And you observed, even before talking to the doctor, that he has started to waste away despite getting the best care possible.”

Branson hung his head. “He has been getting good care. I’ve never found any fault with that. Not at all.”

Liam nodded. He was glad that Branson realized that. He had also seen families blame the staff at Silver Linings for their loved one’s death, even if they had ultimately made the decision themselves.

“And I know that everyone there will keep fighting tooth and nail for him. Until I tell them not to.”

Liam nodded again and covered Branson’s hand with his, sitting quietly and letting Branson think out loud.

“There’s really only one decision, isn’t there?”

Liam didn’t know what to say to that. There were at least three options as far as he could tell.

“I need to let him go.” Branson looked up at Liam. “I’m just not sure how. I don’t think I could take away care that he’s already getting. I thought Mr. J.’s son was awful for doing that, though I had no right to judge, but I don’t think I could do the same thing.” He was silent for a while and then seemed to think of something else. “I heard about that lady a while back, the one where they stopped feeding her and unhooked her IV after being in the coma for so long. They let her waste away over a week or so. I don’t think I could do that to Mac.”

“She didn’t have a vent, Bran.” Liam felt he had to point that out. “It wouldn’t be that slow for Mac. If you decided to discontinue the ventilator, he would most likely not linger very long at all. There’s always a chance that he’d breathe on his own, I guess. But it’s not likely.”

“But I think I remember one like that too.” Branson seemed to be wracking his brain for any example of anyone he could ever remember hearing about. “They unhooked the vent, and she lingered for years.”

“That one didn’t have the chronic seizures and heart problems that Mac has.”

“So basically Mac’s worse off than either of those, and the people in their lives decided to end it for them, so maybe I should….”

“Don’t compare, Bran.” Liam would advise that much. “Do what
you
think is right, for
Mac
, in
this
situation. Don’t worry about what anyone else did in similar ones. Those people weren’t Mac, and the families that made those decisions weren’t you. Do what you can live with.”

“It comes down to that, doesn’t it?” Branson observed, but when Liam didn’t understand what he was saying, he continued. “I get to live, and Mac doesn’t.”

“Oh, Branny.” Liam had been trying to keep his distance, literally giving Bran room to figure this out on his own, but he couldn’t stay away any longer. He scooted close to Branson and enfolded him in a deep hug. “My poor Branny,” he whispered into Bran’s hair. “I wish you didn’t have to face this. I really do.”

Branson sniffled for a moment as he clung to Liam for dear life. “At least I don’t have to face it alone.”

Liam burrowed his nose deeper into Branson’s hair. “No,
mo chroí
. You don’t have to face it alone.”

Amy and Andy dropped by later on in the afternoon.

“We’re here to get you out of this house,” Andy had announced. “We’re all going out and doing something… different.”

Liam heard the unspoken “something that won’t remind you of Mac” and agreed with the sentiment wholeheartedly, but he wasn’t at all sure Bran was up for it.

Apparently, though, Amy wasn’t going to take no as an answer any more easily than her husband was.

“Come on, Bran.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him off the couch. “What about bowling? We’ve never gone bowling before.”

Bran did actually smile at that. “There’s a reason for that, Amy. I don’t know how to bowl.”

“Well, neither do I really, but how hard can it be?” As long as she had Branson up and moving and actually talking, she wasn’t going to concede a point. “You throw a ball into the ditch on either side of the alley and then figure out how to enter zeros into the confusing score-keeping machine. Piece of cake.”

Branson smiled at that. “I’m not sure that’s exactly the objective.”

“It’s the way it worked out for me the maybe three times I’ve ever tried to bowl.”

“Well, I must be mistaken, then.” Branson grinned again.

To Liam’s surprise, Branson actually allowed himself to be led to the coat rack. He put on his coat, and they headed out to the car, Branson under his own power. He wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or jealous. He thought later, though, that Branson had his public face on: the one he wore when he didn’t want people to see him in a state he considered weak. Liam thought maybe he shouldn’t be jealous, after all. Maybe he should feel privileged that Branson felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable in front of him.

With newfound insight—and if it was incorrect insight, Liam didn’t want to know about it—he joined the others, and Andy drove them all to the nearest bowling lanes.

True to her word, Amy bowled an average of fifty across the three games, and that was with bumper guards. Branson had actually warmed to the game after a lousy first score and claimed that he wanted to come bowling again soon. To Liam’s chagrin, he thought Branson was actually sincere about that. Liam really didn’t like to bowl. He was rubbing his right shoulder the whole rest of the night. But it had been worth it to see Branson smile.

Liam didn’t think for a moment that Bran had forgotten the weight of the world that was riding on his very slender shoulders, but he had been able to put it aside for a short while. And for that, Liam would be forever grateful to Amy and Andy.