The dreaded words eventually surfaced.
"we did all we could, but we could not save all of him" Flint paused.
"what do you mean by that doc"
"he's very much alive Mr. Flint butt.."
"Out with it already" Flint said impatiently. "your son is in a vegetative state sir" Flint just stared at him blankly.
"I'm saying he's brain dead" then the words did hit home, sweeping Flint off his feet, depositing him in the nearest makeshift seat… slowly. To him, brain dead was still the same as dead. His son wouldn't be able to move or do anything on his own. Even the most basic of things. How was he to tell Shonda he wondered. He took no notice of his environment, as he was deep in thought. He did not know when the doctor took his leave. Slowly, he dragged his feet back into the waiting room where he'd left his wife.
Flint didn't beat about the bush this time. He went straight to the point. 'Peter is brain dead'
'I know' came Shonda's reply, she didn't even Flinch as she said the words. 'how did you?....' I
'the nurses….They were gossiping about it. I…I overheard' she replied and exhaled a shaky breath. Flint said nothing as he watched her side profile. She'd lost so much weight in just few days since the entire business began. 'I'm sorry baby' he said with drooped shoulders. The money he'd received suddenly entered his mind. It was blood money whether he saw it as such or not. He'd wanted to avoid it entirely. But here he was, receiving it without a choice. Plus it had cost him his son. The only crime he'd committed? Being a police officer. An upright and just one, who didn't get his hands dirty.
As Shonda sat beside her husband, she didn't know what to say to him. None of this was any fault of his, but in a way it was. If only he'd just listened to her. She'd threatened to divorce him at first in her fury, but she loved the man so damn much. She could see how much the entire thing had taken it's toll on him. His sunken eyes, the heavy dark circles, his pale skin, she knew he hadn't slept since they got to the hospital. She felt damn sad and heartbroken to see him like this. She wanted to reach out to him, hold him, comfort him, tell him it was going to be alright, tell him they were in this together… but for some reason even she didn't know, she could not. Instead, she just held herself and let her tears fall. As reluctant as she was to admit it to herself, she needed this man now more than ever.
She was hurting deeply and there was no one else that could share this pain and hurt with her better than him. Only him could share her burden. All the dreams and wishes she had for her son dissipated before her very eyes. She knew that she should be thankful as well, despite everything, her daughter was still alive but there was no way she could handle the hurt. Her heart was torn apart.
"he can't remain like this.." she said suddenly. Flint raised his head and looked at her, not completely understanding what she meant.
"my son is dead Flint. What lies in there is nothing but a husk" she added, gesturing to the operation room with her head.
"what are you trying to say" Flint asked, still not grasping the meaning in her words.
"we need to sign him off" she said finally. Flint stared at her. He was dumbfounded. Where was this coming from he wondered, but she was right. Has just chaff.
"you're asking we donate our son"
"it is … it is what he would have wanted" she said sadly.
Her heart was burning with hurt as she said the very words.
"let's find that doctor" Flint said softly.
********************
"How could you!" yelled Fayth.
Her parents had just told her about Peter. She was furious.
Furious that they hadn't even thought of letting her know. She felt betrayed, hurt. The thought that her brother's parts were with people she didn't know, had no idea of, hadn't met.
The thought that they had even cut him open to pull out the parts they required, it wanted to drive her mad.
"he was dead in the head honey… he wasn't the brother you knew. You wouldn't have wanted to see him like that" Shonda reasoned but Fayth wasn't listening. Her whole body shook and shivered as she cried.
Flint just stood and watched. He had nothing he could say, wanted to say. Even he was hurting as he did what he did but he was certain it was what his son would have wanted. He would never have intentionally become a burden to anyone.
After she'd cried to her heart's content all the while being held by her mother, Fayth fell into a dreamless sleep.
********************
The burial ceremony was a short one. The priest did the necessary, service was short and Paul was quickly put in the ground. Sure the morgue artist did an okay job of working on his face, it was not the same, what he'd looked like. Fayth couldn't bear to look at what was left.
She was all too glad as the entire business came to an end and he headed home with her parents.
She hadn't gotten a grasp of the entire events of the past few weeks but she knew somehow that her father had a hand in the entire thing and even if he didn't, he'd contributed to it somehow. She'd heard snippets of their conversations in the hospital even as she'd drifted in and out of consciousness.
She'd heard them arguing in her hospital ward and just been able to make out a few words. As her anger and sadness consumed her, she stewed indoors soon as she got home. She didn't come down for the reception, neither did she have any dinner. Most of the people who showed up were friends of her brother from around town, high school classmates and friends from uni. None of which she was in any mood to have any form of conversation with or say even the briefest of hi's. Others were friends of her parents, from work, around town, though she noticed very few of her father's co-workers turned up, which was quite an odd thing. She could only count two uniformed men. There was no way police officers would turn up at a wedding wearing plain clothes since her father was chief inspector. Or used to be, she only recently discovered her father had resigned from his position abruptly. She was sure it had some relationship with the death of her brother though she wasn't quite certain.
She remembered the burial ceremony of one of her dad's co-workers last year.. for the life of her, she couldn't remember the man's name. The ceremony was crawling with uniforms and his rank was nowhere near her father's. She watched as the men handed a manila envelope to her father, while patting his shoulders as the parcel changed hands. She headed upstairs just as more guests were arriving.
She lay in her bed, twisting and turning, restless for the night. Her mother has only knocked once when she came upstairs to invite her to dinner but Fayth completely ignored her. At 3am, finding that the god of sleep had somehow managed to join forces with the universe and add to her woes, she got up from bed and opened her wardrobe. She began to shove every single item of hers into her travelling luggage. Before 6am daybreak, she'd pulled the last of her bags downstairs. She'd found the time to splash just cold water on her face in between. Checking her room for the last time to ensure she had everything she'd intended to take, she sat on the sofa in the parlour and waited for daybreak.