The Croning (38 page)
Lucidity smote Don like a lightning bolt one late afternoon, and when it did, he realized he must be dying, although his senses were muffled in gauze and it was difficult to concentrate, much less evaluate his predicament.
The sun was a blood-red band sinking fast. The hospital room lay in darkness except for the beam of light that illuminated his narrow bed. His immediate family stood in the gloom at the foot of the bed—Kurt and Kaiwin and their baby boy; Michelle and Holly to the opposite side. Poor Holly had been in some kind of accident; a wicked scar peeped from the vee of her blouse. The scar was pink and raw.
Don struggled to focus. He was happy that the bed lay in the sunlight because the darkness was so cold. He’d never liked the dark.
Kurt came around and kissed his cheek, followed by Holly and Kaiwin who did the same. They each whispered endearments to him and hugged Michelle on the way out. Michelle stopped Kaiwin and convinced her to leave baby Jonathan with his grandma. “You look so exhausted, honey,” she said to Kaiwin.
The door snicked shut and grandparents and grandchild regarded one another in the dying red light. The infant crawled on the bed. The pleasant vacuum of Don’s mind began to fill with ice.
“Sweetheart,” Michelle said with infinite tenderness. Her red lips gleamed. Her hair was black and lustrous as it had been in youth. She leaned forward and scooped the baby up and pulled him into the shadows. She whispered, “I love you. Thank you.”
Don wanted to reply that he loved her, more now than when they first met, wanted to profess that he’d love her forever and a day. Speech was impossible. His breath slowed and he wheezed and choked as his heart labored. The sight of the baby wriggling in Michelle’s arms paralyzed him with horror. He couldn’t remember why.
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