Gone

She gasps for breath.

“Janie?” Cabel’s voice is soft, urgent.

His finger paints her skin from forehead to cheek, his hand captures the back of her neck, and then he lifts her, carries her to the chair. “Are you okay?”

Janie can’t speak. She can’t see. Her body is numb. All she can do is nod.

And then, there’s a sound from across the room.

It’s certainly not Henry.

Janie hears Cabel swear under his breath.

“Good morning,” says a man. “I’m Doctor Ming.”

Janie sits up as straight as she can in the chair, hoping Cabel’s standing in front of her.

“Hi,” Cabe says. “We—I—how’s he doing today? We just got here.”

Dr. Ming doesn’t answer immediately and Janie breaks out into a sweat. Oh, God, he’s staring at me.

“Are you . . . ?”

“We’re his kids.”

“And is the young woman all right?”

“She’s fine. This is really . . .” Cabel sighs and his voice catches. “Ah . . . really an emotional time for us, you know.” Janie knows he’s stalling for her sake.

“Of course,” says the doctor. “Well.”

Janie’s sight is beginning to return and she sees that Dr. Ming is glancing over the chart. He continues. “It could be any day or he might hang on for a few. It’s hard to say.”

Janie clears her throat and leans carefully to the side of the chair so she can see past Cabel’s bum. “Is he . . . brain-dead?”

“Hm? No, there appears to be some minor brain activity still.”

“What’s wrong with him, exactly?”

“We don’t actually know. Could be a tumor, maybe a series of strokes. And without surgery, we might not ever know. But he made it clear in his DNR that he didn’t want life-saving measures and his next of kin—your mother, I believe?—she refused to sign off on surgery or any procedures.” He says this in a pitying voice that makes Janie hate him.

“Well,” she says, “does he even have insurance?”

The doctor checks the paperwork again. “Apparently not.”

“What are the chances that surgery will help? I mean, could he be normal again?”

Dr. Ming glances at Henry, as if he can determine his chances by looking at him. “I don’t know. He might never be able to live on his own. That is, if he even survived the surgery.” He looks at the chart again.

Janie nods slowly. That’s why. That’s why he’s just lying here. That, and the DNR. That’s why they aren’t fixing him—he’s too broken. She tries to sound simply curious but it comes out nervous. “So, uh, how much does it cost for him to just be here, waiting to die . . . and stuff?”

The doctor shakes his head. “I don’t know—that’s really a question for the accounting office.” He glances at his watch. Puts the chart back. “Okay, then.” He walks briskly out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

When Dr. Ming is gone, Janie glares at Cabel. “Don’t ever let that happen again! Couldn’t you tell I was trapped in the nightmare? I couldn’t get out, Cabe. I thought I was going to die.”

Cabel’s mouth opens, surprised and hurt. “I could tell you were struggling, but if I did break it, how was I supposed to know you wouldn’t be mad at me for that? And what did you want me to do, drag you out in the hallway? We’re in a freaking hospital, Hannagan. If anybody saw you like that you’d be strapped to a gurney in thirty seconds and we’d be stuck here all day, not to mention the bill for that.”

“Better that than sucked into full frontal static-land. No wonder the guy’s crazy. I’m half-crazy just spending a few minutes listening to that. Besides,” Janie adds coolly, pointing to the private bathroom, “hello.”

Cabel rolls his eyes. “I didn’t think of it, okay? You know, it’s not like I spend every waking moment planning my life around your stupid problems. There’s more—”

He slams his lips together.

Janie’s jaw drops.

“Oh, crap.” He steps toward her, sorry-eyed. And she steps back.

Shakes her head and looks away, fingers to her mouth, eyes filling.

“Don’t, Janie. I didn’t mean it.”

Janie closes her eyes and swallows hard. “No,” she says slowly. Doesn’t want to say it, but knows it’s true. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” She gives a morose laugh. “It’s good for you to say it like it is, you know? Healthy. And shit.”

“Come on,” he says. “Come ’ere.” He steps toward her again and this time she goes to him. He runs his fingers through her hair and holds her to his chest. Kisses her forehead. “I’m sorry too. And that’s not like it is. I just . . . it just came out wrong.”

“Did it? Are you really saying that you aren’t concerned about what’s going to happen to me? About how that will affect you?”

“Janie—” Cabel gives her a helpless look.

“Well?”

“Well what? What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell the truth. Aren’t you worried? Not even a little bit?”

“Janie,” he says again. “Don’t. Why are you doing this?”

But he doesn’t answer the question.