Live And Let Die
Chapter 12
By: Makena
He had a drink. And then he had two drinks, and then he had six. He couldn't stop there - not at six. Six was a small number. Six wasn't a long life to live...
"I need another drink," Benji slurred, smashing the empty beer bottle to the paved ground. Joel sighed and shook his head.
"You've had six..." he began.
"I need seven, then!" Benji demanded. Joel sighed.
"Six is quite enough," Joel insisted.
"NO!" Benji shouted. "Six is not enough." His eyes began to swell. "Six isn't long enough - it's not fair." Benji walked around the parking lot for a moment before sitting down on the curb, breaking out into uncontrollable sobs.
"It's not fucking fair, Joel," he sobbed into his hands. "He was only six. Six! He had so much to live for..."
Joel closed his eyes and sat down on the curb next to Benji. While he realized he had never been extremely close with Makena, and he hadn't in fact lost a son, he had lost a nephew and he couldn't help but feel sad when he heard that Gavin was dead. He sighed, trying to keep his own tears in. It wasn't right - it wasn't his son. He didn't have the right to cry over him.
"Let's go inside," Joel tried. "There's still Makena - maybe you could go see her now?"
Benji didn't say anything, and Joel didn't know what else to say. Finally, Benji looked up at Joel. His eyes were watery from tears that hadn't fallen, and slightly bloodshot from the six beers he had consumed.
"Yeah," he agreed. "Yeah... let's do that."
------
"I'm so fucking tired," Paul said with a yawn. "I just wanna go to sleep..."
Billy shook his head and tried to push Paul away so he didn't lean on him. They were sitting in the waiting room, just waiting.
"You still have a concussion," Billy said. "Don't fall asleep."
"Agh, fuck," he muttered. He looked up to see Benji and Joel walk past, slowly and sadly. He tried to jump up a little, but failed when his dislocated shoulder sent a piercing pain up and down his arm.
Billy pulled him back down into his seat and shook his head. "Just - let him do this," he said. Paul sighed and hesitated, but sat down, silently kicking himself for doing this to his friend.
------
Benji found her room and slowly stepped inside, unsure what he would see. The doctors were reluctant to let him though, but once they realized that he had lost his son, they were more sympathetic and allowed him to see her.
"I'll wait here," Joel said quietly, stepping to the side. Benji nodded, thankful Joel understood.
He silently stepped into her room and struggled not to gasp. She was lying on the bed, hooked up to life support and a heart monitor. Her face was scratched and bruised and it hardly looked like her. Her long blond hair tumbled down her shoulders, untouched.
Benji held in a breath and slowly walked to her bedside, half expecting her to open her eyes. He wished she would - he wished she would wake up and laugh and tell him it was all a joke. It wasn't a joke, though. He knew it wasn't a joke.
"Hi," he managed to get out through a raspy voice. He sighed when she didn't reply. "I know it's pointless to even talk to you, but..." He sighed again and struggled not to cry. "... Gavin's dead. Paul's okay - he blames himself. I know he does."
He looked at Makena for a sign - any sign - that she had heard him. Nothing. The heart monitor beeped steadily, and Benji could see her chest rising and falling. He shook his head. He knew she shouldn't be alive - the machine was what kept her alive. He pulled up one of the chairs in the room and sat down with his back to the door, watching her, praying for her to come out of her coma.
He sat there for three days straight, not bothering to move. He simply sat by her bedside, watching. Praying. Waiting. He sat in the same chair, hunched over in thought and loss. Some times he would get up and move the chair, so that his back was turned to the window instead of the door, but some times he kept his back on the doctors and the nurses and the outside world that lurked beyond her door.
His eyes were bloodshot from a mixture of tears and a lack of sleep. He hadn't blinked yet. Three days, sitting in the same chair, never blinking. If he blinked, than he would miss something - a breath, a twitch, a sign of life. Something - anything. He would miss it if he blinked.
He was sitting with his back to the door, deep in thought while he watched her sleeping figure. Her blond hair, thinking of the blue eyes he might never see again - the tube that was stuck in her mouth.
'Fucking piece of plastic,' he thought. She shouldn't be alive - she should be dead. This machine shouldn't be breathing for her - SHE should be breathing for her.
He didn't belong there. He didn't think he should have been there. He had done nothing but call her names and fuck her life up. And here she was, lying in some bed as the result of him fucking things up for her. And - yet - here HE was, this punk kid with pink hair, sitting in the chair while she lay unconscious, waiting for her to wake up.
There was a soft knock on the doorframe, and Benji almost didn't hear it. He was too far-gone to hear anything.
"Benji?" a sad voice from behind him spoke softly. Benji didn't turn around. He sat in his chair. His hands were shaped as if her were praying, resting against his lips.
"I understand your loss, Benji," the voice continued. "I know you're suffering..."
"You know nothing," Benji managed to get out, his voice harsh and raspy from three days without using it.
"... but don't you think you should come home? At least for a couple of hours - get some sleep? You're not doing anyone any good here - especially since you haven't slept for three days straight."
Benji took in a deep breath and took Makena's hand in his left, rubbing it softly with his thumb. "You - you have to plan Gavin's funeral," Joel continued from the door, slowly inching his way into the room. Benji shook his head.
"Not without her."
Joel sighed and contemplated telling him what he had been told earlier. "Benji - I... I didn't want to have to tell you this..."
"Tell me what?" Benji asked quietly, still unable to raise his voice much over a loud whisper.
"The doctors... the doctors said that she has a thirty percent chance of - of coming out of her coma..."
Benji closed his eyes, trying to digest the news. He continued to rub her hand gently, hoping she would wake up.
Joel sighed and continued. "And... you're... you're the only person she had," he stuttered. "And you - you have to decide if you - if you want to keep her on life support or not."
Benji sighed again and kept his eyes closed. "What were her chances?" he asked.
"Thirty," Joel repeated. Benji nodded.
"Those aren't good odds," he said. Joel shook his head.
"No," he admitted. "They're not." He sighed and paused. "If you're not going to come home, at least get something to eat. You look horrible."
Benji shook his head and looked down. "Even if her chances are only thirty, she still has a chance," he explained.
"I'm not leaving - I can't. I have to be here when she wakes up." Joel sighed at the "when she wakes up" and shook his head.
"Please," he pleaded. "You need something to eat."
Benji hesitated.
"I'll stay here," Joel insisted. "And I'll watch her for you." Benji sighed. He was a little hungry - and he was tired. But - he couldn't leave her. What if she woke up while he was picking out his food? She would wake up to Joel...
"PLEASE?!" Joel pleaded again. Benji slowly stood up, dropping Makena's hand back onto the bed. He walked unstably to the door where he passed Joel and walked into the hall. ------
Paul looked out the window at the snow that fell softly to the frozen ground. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to the cool glass, lost in thought and guilt. The last couple of days played out in his mind - it played out in his mind, but he couldn't comprehend any of it. He heard some one walk into the room, but he didn't move. It was Billy - he was the only one home. Joel was trying to persuade Benji to come home, and Benji - obviously - was still waiting for Makena to wake up. But Paul knew she wouldn't.
"Hi," Billy's voice came. Paul didn't reply. They sat in complete silence for an uncomfortable couple of minuets; no music blaring from the speakers, no six year old boy screaming for his father to play video games with him.
"I killed her," Paul finally spoke, his breath appearing on the cold glass.
"You... killed her?" Billy questioned. "Oh my god... she died?"
Paul shook his head. "No," he said. "But I killed her."
Billy frowned. "I... don't think I understand."
"She's not going to wake up, Billy," Paul said, taking his head off the window. "It's a thirty percent chance - she won't make it."
"Benji won't take her off," Billy insisted. Paul shook her head.
"She's on life support," he admitted. "But she's already dead. I killed her." He paused, and Billy thought that he might cry. But he didn't - Paul remained kneeling on his knees, facing the coldness of the winter outside his window, emotionless. "I killed them both. Gavin - he was six. I killed him."
Billy sighed. "Paul..."
"I don't deserve to be alive," Paul continued. "It should have been me to die, Billy. Gavin should still be here - it should be me."
"Paul, shut up!" Billy said finally. "You didn't see the fucking car, and you didn't know you were going to get into an accident! I know - Gavin shouldn't have died. But it's not your fault, okay? You're not responsible!"
Paul was about to respond, but was cut off by the sound of keys in the door. Billy and Paul focused on the door, watching it open and Joel step through. Without Benji.
"Where's..." Billy began.
"Hospital," Joel replied. "I couldn't get him to move." He paused and sighed. "He won't leave her. Even if she doesn't come out of her coma for - six years - Benji'll still sit there." He sighed again. "God - everything is going to fucking hell."
"What about Gavin?" Billy questioned slowly. Joel sighed.
"I don't know," he replied. "I guess - I guess I've gotta plan everything. Benji's just - he's dead. He won't do anything - eat, sleep, come home."
"Something died when Gavin..." Billy paused and glanced over at Paul, who hung his head. "Um... let's go to the kitchen..."
Joel frowned and looked over at Paul, but nodded and followed Billy into the kitchen where they continued their conversation silently.
"What's with Paul?" Joel asked in a low whisper. Billy sighed and shrugged, crossing his arms.
"He blames himself," Billy replied.
"Oh." Joel paused. "He shouldn't."
"I know," Billy said. "He does, though. Just - let him think shit over. He'll probably come around eventually."