“He’s my son, too,” Frank said, his voice quiet.
Amanda’s anger, so long suppressed, suddenly exploded to the surface. “Then why did you make him come and get you?” she cried. “Why were you too drunk to drive yourself?”
“Amanda…”
“You did this!” she screamed at him. Up and down the corridor, patients craned to peer out their open doors, and nurses froze midstride. “He shouldn’t have been in the car! There was no reason for him to be there! But you got so damn drunk that you couldn’t take care of yourself! Again! Just like you always do!”
“It was an accident,” Frank tried to interject.
“But it wasn’t! Don’t you understand that? You bought the beer, you drank it—you set all this in motion. You put Jared in the path of that car!”
Amanda was breathing hard, oblivious to anyone in the hallway. “I’ve asked you to stop drinking,” she hissed. “I’ve begged you to stop. But you never stopped. You never cared about what I wanted, or what was best for the kids. The only thing you ever thought about was yourself and how much you hurt after Bea died.” She drew a harsh breath. “Well, you know what? I was crushed, too. I’m the one who gave birth to her. I’m the one who held her and fed her and changed her diapers while you were at work. I was the one who never left her side when she was sick. That was me, not you. Me.” She stabbed her own chest with her finger. “But somehow you became the one who couldn’t cope. And you know what happened? I ended up losing the husband I married, along with my baby. Yet even then I was somehow able to soldier on and make the best of things.” Amanda turned away from Frank, her face twisted with bitterness.
“My son is on life support and his time is running out because I never had the courage to leave you. But that’s what I should have done a long time ago.”
Halfway through her outburst, Frank had dropped his gaze, focusing instead on the floor. Spent, Amanda began to walk down the hall, away from him.
She stopped for a moment, turned, and added, “I know that it was an accident. I know you’re sorry. But being sorry isn’t enough. If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t be here, and both of us know that.”
Her last words were a challenge that echoed through the hospital ward, and she half-expected him to respond. But he said nothing, and Amanda finally walked away.
When family members were allowed to visit the ICU again, Amanda and the girls took turns sitting with Jared. She stayed with him for almost an hour. As soon as Frank arrived, she left. Evelyn went in to see Jared next, staying only a few minutes.
After the rest of the family was shepherded off by Evelyn, Amanda returned to Jared’s bedside alone, remaining there until after the nurses changed shifts.
There was still no word on a donor.
The dinner hour arrived and more time passed. Evelyn finally showed up and frog-marched Amanda out of the ICU, leading her down to the cafeteria. Although the thought of food made her feel almost nauseated, her mother personally supervised Amanda’s eating of a sandwich in silence. Swallowing each tasteless mouthful with mechanical effort, Amanda finally choked down the last bite and crumpled the cellophane wrapper.
With that, she stood and went back to the ICU.
By eight o’clock, when visiting hours were officially over, Evelyn determined that it would be best for the kids to go home for a while. Frank agreed to accompany them, but again Dr. Mills made an exception for Amanda, allowing her to stay in the ICU.
The frenetic activity of the hospital slowed as evening settled in. Amanda continued to sit unmoving by Jared’s bedside. Feeling dazed, she noticed the rotation of nurses, unable to remember their names as soon as they left the room. Amanda begged God over and over to save her son’s life, in the same way she’d once begged God to save Bea.
This time, she could only hope God would listen.
Sometime after midnight, Dr. Mills stepped into the room.
“You should go home and get some rest,” he said. “I’ll call you if I hear anything at all. I promise.”
Amanda refused to release Jared’s hand, raising her chin in stubborn defiance.
“I won’t leave him.”
It was nearly three in the morning when Dr. Mills returned to the ICU. By then, Amanda was too exhausted to rise.
“There’s news,” he said.
She turned toward him, suddenly sure that he was going to tell her their last best hope had been exhausted. This is it, she thought, feeling numb. This is the end.
Instead, she saw something akin to hope in his expression.
“We found a match,” he said. “A one-in-a-million shot that somehow came through.”