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At Life’s End

© Coco Reed

Chapter One

After so many needles, the skin becomes used to the feeling of metal piercing into it. One got used to the sight of bruises that weren’t the normal green or brown from banging shins into tables or falling onto the sidewalks, but black and violet from nurses taking blood and being a little too forceful. Quinn kept his light sweatshirt sleeves rolled down always until it was time for another visit from the doctors and nurses prowling his floor. He was glad his mother brought him some clothes because weeks of wearing the thin, open-backed gowns became more stressful than comforting.

Dull brown eyes left the window to drag up to the clock to the right of the small television mounted on the wall of the hospital room. Ten minutes until his lunch and five dry pills to choke down. Quinn set his slippered feet onto the floor and was halfway to his bed when the door came open. With a sigh he turned and sat on the edge of the bed, ready for a scolding. Damn if he hated when the nurses came early! As he watched the nurse come into the room and shut the door a dark eyebrow arched. This one was new.

Of average height for a woman, he guessed she came to his shoulder. Her scrubs seemed to swallow her petite form and he breathed a small laugh as his eyes studied first her slightly glittery black cotton pants and then her bright fuchsia shirt with little cartoon fairies all over it. Oh yes, he had most definitely not had this one before. She smiled as she wheeled in the tray and monitor for his afternoon drugs, tucking a long strand of honey blonde hair behind her ear. Her I.D. necklace read “Terry” beneath her smiling photo. Perfume spread into the alcohol and bleach soaked room the moment she stepped inside, freesia and mint.

“Well, it is nice to find you not as sick as everyone was saying you are. I would say if you can sit by the cold window than you are on your way to recovery.”

“I was coming back from the bathroom.” Quinn cleared his throat, hating how scratchy his already deep voice sounded like gravel beneath a cement truck’s tires. She made a noise of acceptance as if she really didn’t believe him while putting the tray on the bedside table. “So, they’ve rotated shifts again?”

Terry looked up at him as she took his blood pressure, confusion quite apparent in her large blue-green eyes until they widened and she smiled. “Oh, you mean the nurses! Right, it has changed again.” She waited for him to hold out his hand for her to scan his bracelet before turning to grab his medication and pop them out of their plastic and foil bubbles. “My name is Terry, Quinn, and I will be looking after you for the remainder of your time here.”

Quinn scoffed and downed his mouthful of bitter, chalky pills with a small carton of orange juice. “I’ve already been here two and a half weeks, seen thirty or so different faces. Not that your enthusiasm isn’t brightening my day, Terry, but I’m sure you’ll be gone by tomorrow, just another face passing by my door.”

Terry watched him swallow his pills, finish off his juice and lift the lid from his plate before setting it back down with disinterest at the salad hidden beneath it with a smile on her face. The door clicking opened had her turning with a calm grace and coming face-to-face with an older woman who would be considered pretty had there not been dark bags under her eyes and her hair a barely brushed pony tail. Wet chocolate eyes, the same as the young man’s lounging on the hospital bed, focused entirely on Terry, bags and coat the woman held forgotten in the lone chair.

“Has his blood work come back?”

Terry smiled, sweet and disarming, as she gave a small shake to her head. “Not yet, Mrs. Hastings. I’m sorry for the wait.”

Malory Hastings sighed and fought the urge to run her hands through her hair. “They’ve ruled out cancer, they’ve ruled out heart failure, liver failure… He’s a virgin and he’s never had transfusions, so it can’t be Aids!”

“Mom!” Not much could get to Quinn, but the rosy tint of his cheeks spoke loud and clear his embarrassment from his darling mother’s last comment. His color darkened and he scowled when Terry smiled and chuckled while Malory continued her rant.

“Mrs. Hastings, I cannot tell you anything like that because I myself have not been told. Only his doctor knows what is going on. But I have a job, and that is making Quinn as comfortable and happy as possible until he leaves, and I swear I will do my job to the best of my abilities.” She patted the woman on the hand glancing over to Quinn. “Now, I am going to make my rounds before the evening rush sets in. Please spend time with your son, Mrs. Hastings, and forget about everything else.”

They were alone once again and Quinn frowned as he watched his mother sift through her plastic and paper bags with jerking, mechanical motions. With a sigh he stood, I.V. trailing behind him. As soon as he came within reach, he was pulled into a crushing hug. Quinn kept from sighing again, bringing his abused arms up and around his petite mother.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Quinny?” Malory kept her tears in as she pulled away to swipe his brown hair out of his eyes.

Quinn smirked and sat on the foot of the bed. “Beats the shit out of me.”

Without another word and a thin smile in place, his mother tossed him a wax paper-covered burger from the greasy fast food stand down the street from the hospital. It was orgasmic. If he had to eat another chef salad or boiled plate of vegetables he was going to snap.

“This is probably what you needed. All that broth the first week and now just vegetables and no meat can’t be getting your strength back up. You’ll probably be out at the end of the week.”

“Probably,” Quinn said shoving two ketchup-drenched fries in his mouth. There was no real enthusiasm behind his agreement. He knew better.

“Your semester is shot, but in the spring you can pick up where you left off.”

“Right.”

Quinn knew better.

One just couldn’t “pick up where they left off” after collapsing like he had. It had been such a cliché, ordinary day. Quinn had been studying with a few classmates and then went out to a movie with some of them afterwards. After the movie he was walking to his car when he doubled over. He could remember Holly, the girl who sat next to him in Computer Technology, scream for another guy to call an ambulance. Later he learned that not only did he fall to the pavement, but he also started puking until blood came up, his skin turned blue, and he had a small seizure.

That had technically been a month ago and not a lot had changed. His convulsing stopped some time the week before but he often felt that his insides were shaking so much that he would fall apart. He was dying and he didn’t know the cause. Many others would be afraid, and while Quinn found this all to be inconvenient, he wasn’t scared. He was weird about death, accepting the inevitable and the cruelty life sometimes dealt people. His family often accused him of being cold and morbid. To him there was nothing to cry over.

“Serena had me bring you some magazines and Paul made me bring you some movies since you have your laptop here. Dad said he’ll try and be up here again tomorrow for your dinner time.”

Quinn shook his head, sipping his strawberry milkshake. “No need for that. You both are about to keel over. Spend some time home with Dad and your healthy children, I’m capable by myself, and there isn’t anything here for you to do.”

“Nope, I’m staying. Something might happen when I’m gone.”

He knew she didn’t mean the doctor coming by. Quinn couldn’t help smiling as he popped the last bite of his burger in his mouth. “Well if I go, I go. At least I won’t have to worry about making rent again or cramming for midterms.”

“That’s not funny, Quinn!” Malory stood from her chair, food wrappers clenched in her hand. She snatched up the rest of their trash to throw away. “I wish you would realize that this is serious. You almost died!”

Quinn stood and made his way over to drape his arms around her shoulders. He kept from breathing heavy, not wanting his mother to see how even simple movements were beginning to tax him. She didn’t ever have to know how much pain he really was in. “Go home, Mama. Take a nap, talk to your other kids and make sure they’re okay, fix Dad something so he’s not just eating take-out.”

“I can’t,” her voice was close to cracking, tears close to falling. “What if you go, Quinny? I don’t want you to go, baby boy.”

Quinn laughed and shook his head, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Do you really think it’s going to come to that? Okay, let’s say it does. You know I love you, I love Dad, and I love Serena and Paul. There. Already I’m more fortunate than most people. I’ve said my goodbyes, if that’s what this has come down to. If I do die, I wrote some things on my laptop for you.”

Malory smiled, reaching up to play with her son’s shaggy hair. “Love you too, Quinn. I guess your morbid streak has come in handy, eh?”

Quinn chuckled, pulling away, surprisingly calm and happy. “Now go home, woman. Spend your Saturday afternoon actually doing something.”

With a sad smile, coat in hand, Malory Hastings left the fourth floor of St. Gregory’s Hospital.

* * * * *

Seven o’clock rolled around and Quinn was bored out of his skull. There were only so many websites and television shows one could sift through before snapping. With a hitch in his breath, he grabbed his I.V. and made his way into the bathroom to clean up. As he worked to soap himself up without getting his I.V. wet, he settled from foot to foot trying to ease the aching in his muscles. He was actually looking forward to his bland dinner just so he could have his pain-killers. Giving up on the no-rinse bath solution, Quinn turned away from the mirror with a disgusted grunt. He made it just outside the bathroom when every bone in his body seemed to scream out in pain.

Quinn fell to his knees, gasping as white-hot flashes sliced through his body. He would have screamed out had his voice not abandoned him. Liquid ran down his face and he saw drops of blood fall to the tiled floor from his nose. His hands shook as he tried to wipe it away. Convulsing gripped his body and his breathing quickened as blood began to pool from beneath him. Another tidal wave of pain caused his back to arch, body falling completely to the floor. Finally tears began to slide from his eyes. He didn’t want nurses to tell his mother this was how they found him. His mind went black.

* * * * *

He had not expected to wake up. His vision swam, blood still fresh in his nose and mouth. It could not have been long since he passed out. Lifting his head he had to close his eyes. Everything felt off. His movements, his body – everything hurt. His heart hurt. Turning he found no blood on the floor and frowned. This could not have been a dream. A noise startled him from his musings and he looked up, shock making his stomach lurch. The bed seemed so far up and away, out of reach. The cheerful nurse from before, Terry, had her back to him as she busied herself with fixing the bed. The scent of freesia and mint oddly soothing even in the situation he found himself in. Quinn gasped, watching her situate an obviously dead body on the mattress. His own, glassy eyes staring out from a pasty face at him.

Quinn tried to stand, choking on his breath as he began to hyperventilate. He could not move! His limbs did not seem to work. Through the haze in his mind he came closer. Quinn couldn’t help jumping when a limp, bruised hand fell from over the bed to dangle before him. On impulse he lifted his hand to touch it and found a furry paw touch instead of his own five fingers and lightly tanned skin. This couldn’t be. When he moved, the paw moved, and when he pressed his fingertips, claws left tiny scratches on the cold flesh.

Terry snapped her head down and to her side when a long, pitiful keen broke the thick silence of the room. Sad understanding filled her eyes and she bent to scoop up the panting kitten. The animal was so tired, its little heart beating so fast and hard she could feel it. With tender, reverent care she cradled the plain brown-haired, brown-eyed kitten, stroking its ear before turning to the door. She had cleaned Quinn Hastings’s body as best she could and now his real nurse could take care of the rest. They left with her hiding the cat in her large pocket.

“Come, My Lord. You are finally finished with this place and now I may fulfill my duty and take you home.”

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