IF I WANTED TO
We don’t have to do that,
I hear a woman’s fake-calm voice
talking to Mom,
we can just assess him,
put on the monitors,
take a listen,
we can call Dr. Kate,
speak with her.
I can’t imagine
how hard this is
for you.
Breath
Wait
Wait
Breath
Wait
Wait
Wait
Wait
I can’t see Mom
from where I sit
on the bed
with Jonah,
but I feel the fight
go right out of her.
Wait
Wait
Wait
Wait
Wait
Wait
I finally have to blow out
all the air I’ve been holding
in my cheeks
waiting for Jonah’s next breath.
When Johnny and a paramedic
come in
to check on him,
Jonah is gone.
Johnny lays his hand
on top of Jonah’s head.
Fly high, my man,
I will miss you, always,
I hear him tell Jonah.
It doesn’t surprise me
that Jonah, the trickster,
wearing his Magician’s Stone,
would disappear
when we were all looking.
Cans
When the paramedics tell Mom,
Yes, Jonah died,
she starts throwing things.
She begins with the cans
of Jonah’s food.
She throws them out of his room
into the kitchen,
then she opens the front door
and throws them out onto the lawn.
Can after can after can.
When all the cans are gone
from the house,
Mom takes the drawers
full of medical supplies
and dumps them in the garbage.
She pours Jonah’s medicine
down the sink.
GET THIS OUT OF HERE
AND THIS
AND THIS
AND THIS
AND THIS
she tells the paramedics
(who’ve decided their new patient
is Mom),
pointing to O
and Fire Alarm
and Food Truck
and Suck-It-Up
and Zombie Vest
and Snorkel Man.
One by one,
I watch Jonah’s friends
leave the house.
When she is done
redecorating,
Mom remembers her manners,
and thanks the paramedics
as if they are moving people
who are nice enough
to show up
in the middle of the night
to lend a hand.
Soul
It’s three thirty a.m.
and the lights are on in
Number 24,
but I don’t see any faces
in the windows.
I imagine that an
ambulance
parked in the driveway
and Mom’s missile launch
of cans
onto the front lawn
makes it hard for them
to sleep.
I feel so strange.
My hands hang there
at the ends of my arms,
with nothing to do
for Jonah
anymore.
He lies in the bed
with no plastic prongs
in his nose
or O tubing curled
behind his ears.
There are no tubes
anywhere.
The room,
with all his friends
and equipment gone,
looks bigger
than I remember.
Without the usual whooshing
and ticking of the machines,
the quiet drums
against my ears.
I take my grandmother’s
old wool blanket
off my bed,
and cover Jonah’s legs.
We don’t go to church,
and I’m not sure I believe
in souls,
but I try to feel Jonah’s soul
in the room.
What is it like
for the soul
to leave the body?
In the quiet of the room,
I feel a deep sadness
around me.
Is it Jonah’s soul
saying a last goodbye
to his life on earth,
before moving on?
I hope,
when he gets to heaven,
or wherever he goes,
it’s as big and beautiful and shining
as Blee-ah.
Wish
Dr. Kate arrives.
She doesn’t say anything
about the cans on the lawn,
or Jonah’s friends
standing outside.
She leans over and listens to Jonah
with her stethoscope.
I had no idea
that a doctor would listen
for what isn’t there.
When she stands up,
she hangs her stethoscope
back around her neck.
I’m sorry, Liv,
Dr. Kate says.
I gave my birthday wish
to Jonah,
I tell her,
for him to have whatever he
wanted most.
Is this what he wanted?
I don’t know,
she answers.
What made him get so sick
so fast?
I ask her.
I thought he would get better.
That we were doing
all we could.
It was pneumonia, Liv,
and he was too weak
to fight it.
It wasn’t anyone’s fault.
I blame Jonah for three things.
One
Not thinking about me
when he picked up the gun.
Two
Always looking so far ahead
into his future,
that he missed seeing
all the good things
right in front of him.
Three
Leaving me alone
again.
At four thirty a.m.,
after Elinor comes
after Johnny hugs me goodbye,
after Mom lets
Jonah’s body
be taken away,
I find the number
for the Brann farm.
When a man answers,
I say,
Sorry to wake you up,
but I need to get a message
to Clay LeBlanc.
You didn’t wake me.
I’ve already had my breakfast
and two cups of coffee.
I recognize the voice
of the very old man.
Could you wake Clay
and ask him to pick me up
at home?
Your young man shouldn’t need waking,
he says,
he should be out in the barn.
I’m headed there now.
I’ll let him know.
Because he is nice enough
not to ask why—
why I called so early
why I need Clay to come get me—
I tell him.
My brother died this morning.
There is silence on the phone,
and then he speaks:
My twin brother died when we were ten,
got his hand caught in the corn chopper.
I’m sorry,
I say,
and hang up,
because I’m crying for Jonah,
and crying for the little farm boy
who didn’t get to grow up
to be a very old man
with his brother.
Moms
By the time Clay gets there
in his red truck,
the sun has come all the way up.
I’ll be back later,
I call out to Mom and Elinor
as I head out the door.
Clay is standing on the sidewalk
in front of our house.
When I reach him,
his arms go around me,
and my arms wrap around him.