Part 2
You are not allowed to treat Evan in the ER – hospital rules, of course. It turns out that is probably a good thing, because once Evan is taken out of your sight, moved quickly to a trauma unit for evaluation, you grow shaky and clammy. An orderly catches you as your knees buckle. You don't pass out completely, but the high pitched buzzing in your dizzy brain indicates you've come close. The orderly deposits you on a bed of your own, and a nurse helps you out of your wet clothing and into a hospital gown, then begins to check your vital signs. Meanwhile, you teeter nervously on the edge of a complete breakdown. You know that you are "fine" – no injuries, no pain, just in shock, physically and emotionally. But what you have seen has completely traumatized you. Evan was dead... only for a moment… but he was still dead. In those horrifying seconds when there was no more Evan, you felt as though your own heart ceased to beat. In literally a flash, your brother's life had ended, and it was only through sheer force of will and a dash of chance that you were able to wrest him back into the world. But it had been too close, and you feel that the memory of holding his lifeless body will haunt you forever. If you had not bothered to follow Evan out to the beach… if Evan had not begun to breathe on his own… if his heart had not lurched back into motion… that would have been that.
As it is though, it still isn't over. You've seen a lightning strike victim once before, when you were working the ER in the city (though it is horribly, horribly different when you actually see it happen right in front of you… to your nearest, most essential loved one). He had survived initially, but had remained in a coma for almost a month before the rest of his body finally quit. The fact is, lightning injuries are notoriously hard to treat. A human body doesn't do so well when 45 kilovolts go through it (a ballpark average in an industrial electrocution)… imagine the internal damage caused by 300 kilovolts. Only 20% of people struck die immediately, but it is entirely possible for a victim to suffer delayed death months after the fact. You were able to prevent immediate death by the skin of your teeth, but Evan could still die from secondary causes, like hemorrhaging or neurological or cardiac complications. At the very least, he could have some pretty severe long-term consequences from this.
You're not sure how long you've been sitting on this bed shaking and shivering, but when a doctor approaches you, you try your best to pull yourself together and listen. The doctor explains that Evan is, at this point, semi-conscious, confused and disoriented. You exhale in relief – the knowledge that Evan's brain is functioning is the best news you could get. Though he is not able to say much coherently, he has expressed awareness of a numb, tingling sensation in his hands and feet. The doctor is quick to let you know that there doesn't seem to be any paralysis, and you were right about the ruptured eardrum. As far as more serious internal injuries go, more tests and monitoring are needed to determine the severity of the lightning's bite, and whether his body will be able to shake it off, but right now, his heart is their greatest concern.
After much begging, you are allowed to see your brother. He is lying silently, as pale as his sheets, slightly elevated to ease his breathing and prevent any fluid buildup in his lungs. There are multiple wires affixed to his body, charting his still-erratic heartbeat. A bandage peeks out from his hospital gown, covering the angry burn near his neck. You are sure there's one on his foot as well. You approach, you gently touch his hand to alert him to your presence, but he doesn't stir. Remembering the numbness the doctor spoke of, you lean close and murmur, with as much diction as possible aimed toward his uninjured ear, "Evan?"
Just as they did on the beach, his eyelids flicker, but this time they manage to actually open, though with great effort and only halfway. You see his blue eyes, somewhat blank and searching, dart around the room a moment, before settling on you. Unsure of the extent of his mental awareness, you say nervously, "Do you recognize me? Do you know who I am?"
It takes a minute, during which you hold your breath as his lips silently fumble to form an answer, but finally Evan manages to hoarsely whisper, "Hank…" Your name has never sounded so beautiful to your ears before. Any semblance of holding yourself together flies out the window. With that single word, you are unmanned. As you clutch onto him and sob heavily into his blanket, blubbering soft apologies, you feel a light touch upon your head. Your brother has managed to lift his tingling hand to give you comfort, and you cry even harder beneath his touch as he pats your hair like a puppy. You hear his strained voice slowly slurring, "Ssshh… s'okay, bro. 'M sorry too. S'okay." You haven't cried this hard since your mother died. You feel like you should be jumping for joy that Evan is alive, but you can't control yourself. You dimly think of the words Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and you wouldn't be surprised if both you and your brother wind up suffering from it. It doesn't matter now, though.
Later, though you do not know it, you will look back and be both grateful and bitter for this day.
The heart is too damaged to resume beating properly...
The kidneys are the next to fail...
Hepatic failure follows shortly after...
When Evan dies almost two weeks later, unable to recover from multisystem failure, you are grateful for the extra time you had with him, however short it was – you have been able to clear the air and make amends for your argument, and had the chance to show your brother that he means more to you than anything in the world. You will always be grateful that, at least on Evan's part, there is no anger, no fear, no raging against the dying of the light. Despite the persistent fog that continues to cloud his brain, when you finally have to explain what's happening to him, he understands. He recognizes that he's not going to survive much longer – you think maybe he knew it even before you found the nerve to tell him. He's sad, but at peace, which is all anyone can ask for. His only concern is for you and for your father.
Near the end, just before Evan slips into the coma that will quietly ease him out of this brief, painful half-life and back into his mother's arms, he manages to tell you he doesn't regret bringing Dad back into your lives. "I don't have to worry… You won't be alone now…" You'll always wonder if he knew, on some level, that his time on earth wouldn't be long and he wanted to make sure you'd have family in your life, wanted to show his love for you by making sure you'd be taken care of. You are grateful that when he goes it's relatively easy, gentle, the coma having silenced any remaining pain. You're grateful that you are there to hold him as he passes, and you hope that he's somehow aware of your presence at that final moment. "I'm here… I won't let you go…"
But the bitterness still holds...
One of the last things Evan says is that it's no one's fault… "it just is." But your own anger will still come through in the questions that plague you – why were you able to bring him back to life, only to lose him in the end anyway? Why did he have to suffer so much from this? Is that your fault? The first time had been quick, painless – just a flash and then oblivion – but then you brought him back to endure unimaginable pain as parts of his body failed, one after another. Why were you the witness – the lightning could have just as easily struck you instead, or both of you. Why didn't it? Why were you spared from the physical strike, but not the trauma of the event, which you must live with for the rest of your life? Was there anything you could have done differently that would have changed the outcome? You would have given him anything, taken years off your own lifespan to add to his… Did nature or God just capriciously single Evan out? You always knew Evan was special… too special. Who on earth are you supposed to blame for this?
You guide your father out of the cemetery, where you linger long after the crowd has dispersed (and there is such a crowd – more mourners than Evan would have ever guessed). Your dad is still somewhat frail from his own recent heart attack and wrecked by grief for the son he lost so much time with… the son he thought he would have the chance to start over with. Neither of you says a word as the enormity of your mutual loss engulfs you. You don't like it here in the Hamptons anymore, but you know now that you will never leave this place, because even though it's the place where he died, it's also the place where Evan was happiest, and his presence can still be felt, laughing and forever suspended in the eternal summer of his short life.
Today there is no trace of violent storm clouds; the sky is a brilliant, peaceful blue now… the same beautiful color as those mischievous, lively eyes you will never forget.
The End
