The Void (6 page)

My whole life has been stolen from me...

My whole fucking life...

"Are you okay?"

The words are shouted at me, over the sound of roaring jet engines.
The seat I'm now on is metal and flat, my back aching as the world
around me bounces and heaves. The inside of this metal bird has none
of the expected luxuries of consumer travel.

My arm is in a sling.

It hurts.

"Yeah," is all I muster.

The man across from me I don't know at all. I don't even know his
name or rank. And yet he seems utterly concerned, his eyes low and
sallow. How must I look to elicit such worry?

Before me, before him, between us, are several flags, a drapery of
stars and stripes, lay across many rather large metal boxes. In front
of me is a small handle, protruding from beneath the fabric. I don't
know who this is, who this was, but somewhere in the vast cargo is
Frank and Jason, heading home to see their families and friends for
the final time.

A bastion of sacrifice, floating across the ocean, headed for a home
that sent it, carelessly, to perish. A random sampling, picked from
the flock by a wolf in the night, no reason to the choice but by that
which stands in the path of the wave of violence.

It doesn't seem fair that I am riding in a seat.

What spared me, but ended them?

My mind marches on while these men, women are gone from this world,
nevermore able to smile, to think, to kiss their loves ones, to read
a book, to eat good food and drink good wine and dine with friends.
Their existence, whatever it was, has been stricken from the world
utterly, and they can never be back.

And yet I live.

I should cry; but I don't.

"Will it hurt?" In the void, a cry...

"No, it won't hurt. If it was able to hurt, we wouldn't be doing
this, I assure you."

"How do you know he can't feel anything?"

"Mom," Brian squeaks. "That's not dad."

"That
is
Max!"

"No, it's not, he's gone. He can't feel anything."

"But how do you know?"

"Mom, we can't go through this again."

Jenny is crying.

I hate that she is crying...

"What happens when you take it out?"

"Nothing at first. He is capable of breathing on his own, but that
is purely an automatic response. He has no brain activity. His body
is on auto-pilot. When the feeding tube is removed, it will take a
few weeks, maybe, but eventually he will go into arrest and pass."

And Jenny sobs, heaving, and I hear her sounds drift away; "mom!
Come back!"

"No, no," she mumbles between sobbing.

"It's okay, mom," Brian shouts.

"No, no," she keeps repeating. She's barely coherent, now, but
she sounds to be coming closer, back into the room and back by my
side.

"It's okay, mom," Brian repeats, softly this time, reassuringly.
I hope he is hugging her...

He
better
be hugging her!

A long silence.

A very long silence...

Far too much silence...

Please, someone speak!

Speak!

"Okay," Jenny finally breaths. "What now?"

"Very simple. We remove the feeding tube."

"Do I need to be here?"

"No, you don't."

"Mom!"

"Brian..." she babbles. "I just can't, okay?"

"But-"

"Brian..." she repeats. "I
just
can't.
"

A brief silence and fierce exhale, and "okay."

Then footsteps, sobbing, gathering in intensity, and then the sound
of a door closing. And, once again, painfully, horrifyingly, silence.

Such terrible silence.

She left me...

She left me here alone...

So very alone...

I wonder, would the doctor speak to me, likely just him and me (and
maybe a nurse or two) as they remove my ability to be fed, to stay
alive. Would he talk to me, as he signs and seals my death warrant?

Will Jenny come back to me?

Will I die, alone; all alone...

"Come on, ref,
pay
attention!
" On
leather...

"What a bullshit call!"

Both me and my father, now on our feet, a beer clad in each of our
right hands, faces grimacing and furious at the madness before us.

"Goddamnit," dad grumbles as he returns to his seat, his hands
slapping his knees as he sinks into the cushions and grunts.

I, still standing, swizzle the remaining liquid in my metal can, and
let out a disgusting burp. "I'm gonna get another one. You need
one?"

"No, I'm set."

"Okay," and I amble off to the kitchen, all at once aware that I
am a little tipsy.

"Hey," and I turn to see my father suddenly behind me, eyes
afire. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I grumble. "Why?"

"That's your fifth beer today."

"So?"

"I think you should be done, son."

"What? Are you serious?" I am flabbergasted. My father hasn't
spoken to me like that since I was a teenager, and I certainly never
expected to hear it from him regarding my beer consumption. This was
a man that routinely finished a case of beer in an evening on the
patio by himself, just reading.

"I am."

"Dad, I'm getting another beer."

"Don't, Max!"

"That's enough, dad, back off! I'm not a kid trying to sneak a
drink from your cabinet."

"That's still my beer."

I stood, motionless; he was technically correct, it was his, he
bought it. I had no rights over it. But I was stunned at the
insinuation; he was cutting me off by the only means he had. And I
was suddenly furious.

"Then maybe I should just go."

"I can't let you drive, Max!"

"Dad, Jesus Christ, I've only had four!"

"Max-"

"No, enough!" And I turn, sprint for the door, out to the deck,
down to the driveway, and into my car. I start it up and take off
down the street, tires squealing behind me as I race.

I am so angry I can barely see...

But why am I so angry?

"I can't believe he'd talk to me like that," to myself I
grumble, taking a wide corner onto the main street without using a
turn signal.

I'm too angry for turn signals.

"Like I'm a child," I continue.

I swerve to the left to keep my tires on the road.

"I'm a grown man, a veteran, if I want a beer, I'll get a
goddamn
beer
!"

Another swerve to the right to stay out of the line of oncoming
traffic. Then back to the left. And back to the right. I seem to be
having some trouble driving straight.

"I'd expect it from mom, but not from dad!"

What's that noise?

"The guy drinks himself asleep every night, and he's telling me
that I'm drinking too much! What a hypocrite! I only had a few-"

Are those are police lights behind me?

And then a siren echoes.

Shit...

I quickly, carefully put on my right blinker and pull to the side of
the road and stop the car, turning off the ignition. The police
cruiser follows suit and puts his bumper to right before my trunk.

And then we wait.

I gather my documents, stealing glances to the rear view mirror
every few seconds so as to know when the officer is approaching. It
seems to take an eternity, but when he finally opens his door and
comes to mine, I find myself wishing he had taken longer,

"License and registration?"

I hand him my documents.

"Do you know why I pulled you over?"

"Was I swerving a little?" I confess.

"You were. Have you been drinking?"

He's looking right at me...

"No, officer," I lie, "I just had a bit of a fight with my
father and am not thinking clearly."

A good lie...

He stares at me, looks into my backseat, into my passenger seat, and
then back to me. Then back to my documents. Then back to me.

"I'll be right back," he says and disappears.

I'm breathing heavily now, anxious; he's going to ask me to do a
field sobriety test, I am certain of it. Will I be able to pass it? I
feel alright, but it suddenly occurs to me that I
have
had
more than my usual fare of drinks. But I was watching football!

Everyone enjoys themselves during the game!

"Here," the officer suddenly appears and hands me my paperwork,
looking stern but comfortable. "Do me a favor and drive carefully
the rest of the way home, will you?"

"Yes, sir!" I nearly shout.

And then he turns, walks back to his car, gets in, puts his left
blinker on, pulls into traffic and disappears down the road and out
of sight. And I sit there, still breathing heavily, trying to
comprehend how I managed to escape without so much as a ticket?

I must be a lucky man...

"Good morning," Jenny's voice pulls me from the car and into her
sweet grace. "How is he doing? Is he okay?" She asks.

"Mrs. Aaron-"

"Just tell me he is okay..."

"Uh," and a heavy sigh. "He is okay."

"Thank you," Jenny mumbles.

I'm so happy you're here!

"I love you, Max!"

I love you, too, Jenny!

"Brian is coming by again later today."

Good! I need to hear more from him, before the end comes. Whenever
that is...

I'm hungry...

"He's actually going to come and stay with me for a little while.
A few months maybe."

He's moving back home?

"We talked about it last night, and he agreed to help me...
arrange... everything..." And she trails away, voice cracking; then
she coughs and laughs. "I never expected this. Life is a strange
thing, isn't it?"

Strange... That's a way to put it...

"I think he's going to take the Camaro."

Good! Don't sell my car!

Keep it in the family!

"He's always wanted it, and I have no need for it. He freaked when
I told him I was thinking of selling it." And she laughs.

I remember buying that car; it was a beautiful, sunny Saturday,
driving to the address that I found in the newspaper, boasting a
cheap sports car for sale.

I needed a new car.

"Good afternoon!" I smile at the man.

"Howdy!"

"I hear you have a car for sale?"

"Indeed, I do," he beams and motions for me to follow him into
his garage. Briefly, I consider that maybe he is going to kill me,
and I wonder if I would be able to defend myself...

But then his garage door opens, and before me is the most gorgeous
hunk of metal and leather that I have ever seen, glistening with the
little sunlight suddenly available from the outside opening.

It was black, convertible.

It smelled magnificent.

I would have paid him whatever he asked...

"He always loved that car."

I'm glad he'll have something from me...

"Remember when he stole it to go to that after game party with his
friends?"

Oh, Jesus...

"I don't think I've ever seen you so angry."

He reminded me of myself.

I both loved and hated that.

"You know, people must think I'm crazy, talking to you like this.
I may as well be talking to a pillow, you know? You may as well not
be here."

But I can hear you!

"I can't help myself, Max. This is all I have left of you. This...
shell... this... body... it's all there is. And I only have it for a
little while longer with it. Only a few weeks... to see you... like
you are..." Her voice cracks, a sudden sob. "I... I..." she
mumbles, starting to cry. "I don't know what I'll do without you,
Max!"

I hear sheets ruffle, but I do not hear any further crying. Is she
stifling her crying, or has she composed herself? Is she laying on
me?

Is she touching my face?

Of all my senses, I miss touch the most...

"I really hope you're somewhere, anywhere, waiting for me. I
really hope I can see you again."

I want to see you again...

"I suppose you would just call me a fool." And she laughs; more
ruffling of sheets.

I would never call you a fool!

"I need to believe you're somewhere waiting for me, Max... I just
need to. I don't care if I'm fooling myself, I don't care if you're
really just gone. Wherever you are, please don't judge me. Please. If
I don't hold on to that faith, if I don't believe I'll see you again,
I don't think I'd be able to handle losing you."

I would never judge you...

"I just need to believe!"

I wish I could believe...

"I need to believe... Do you understand?"

I understand...

"I hope you understand."

I understand, Jenny!

And she giggles. "Listen to me, I must be completely losing it."
And she giggles again. "I'm just glad the doctor left the room.
It's easier to be crazy when I'm alone with you."

I like being alone with you...

"I'm going to miss you more than you know."

I don't want to leave you!

"I'll be here every day you have left..."

I don't want to die...

"...being crazy with you..."

I wonder what death will be like...

"...right her, beside you..."

I hope it doesn't hurt much.

"...holding your hand..."

I think my stomach is already starting to ache, the only feeling I
have experienced in as long as I can remember. Yet I wonder, am I
even really feeling it? Maybe it's all in my mind. I can
remember
hunger; am I expecting to be hungry?

"...you're so warm..."

I'm sure I'll feel something, as I start to die. I've never died
before; I'd come close, but was revived before the world started to
slip away. It felt like a heavy sleep. Time wasn't there; I was in a
bathroom and then suddenly, inexplicably, was not. Before the melting
of time, however, my chest felt crushed, my lungs ached, my throat
sore and tight. It was certainly not pleasant. I wonder if it will
feel the same...