Chapter 41: Vigil

January 3, 1981

When we found Mr. Matthews, he was sitting in the waiting room looking tired and pale. He didn’t look broken, so I knew there must be hope. His eyes found us, and he sat up straighter.

“She’s in the emergency room. They pumped her stomach. That’s all I know now. Last I heard, she was breathing, had a heartbeat, and there was some brain activity. That’s all I know right now.”

“Those all sound like positive signs, Mr. Matthews.”

“Erwin.” He paused. “What ... how ... how did you... ?”

“She called us. Me, I mean, and Angie. She told us she wanted to hear our voices. She sounded confused. Not drunk, but, you know. Wrong. She made it clear she was expecting to die, so I had Angie get Mom and Dad up. Then she wanted Angie, so I had Mom dial 911 and Dad drove us to your house.”

“Look, um ... Steve. She, um ... on our trip. Something happened. With a boy.”

I shook my head, looking him in the eye. “Which doesn’t matter. I don’t think this is about that at all.”

“But...”

“She said a few things. One was that she had considered killing herself way back at Spring Break. This has been building since before I knew her as more than a face at junior high.”

He considered that. “Then it wasn’t... ?”

“Some crazy over-reaction to being grounded? Or whatever happened? No, Sir.”

He bit his lip. “Maybe if we’d let her call you when we got home...”

“I don’t think so. She had a note, a long one, written out. The police have it. The officer gave your wife some good advice about whether she really wants to know everything in it. This was something she planned, Sir. And Candice is a planner. She wouldn’t make a life-altering decision because you didn’t let her make a phone call.”

He blinked. “Thank you for ... um ... saying ... altering.”

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“Look, she’s your daughter, I’m the boyfriend. Or maybe, the former boyfriend. That’s not the point. I think she’s going to need help. Serious help. Someone, a counselor who specializes in ... whatever the issue turns out to be. I think she has some sort of serious, deep-seated self-image issue. I don’t know whether there’s a reason for it, but she does. If her counselor needs to know anything from me, I’m more than happy to speak to them.”

He considered it. “Why do you think she has, um ... self-image ... problems? She’s always seemed so ... positive.”

“Things she said, Sir. Now and then. You know I think she’s wonderful. She’s a top student, just as strong as anyone I know. Friendly, fun, good to be around. She makes everyone better. Everyone will rally around her. But ... sometimes ... she’s said little things. That she’s not good enough. That she doesn’t deserve ... whatever. Grades, friendships, whatever. That we’d be better off without her.”

“I just can’t believe she was carrying all that around. And I don’t know who put it there.”

“I want to ask you three things, please. You can of course say no. Or consider them when you know more.”

“What’s that?”

“If you find out ... why ... I want to know. And what’s done about it, if there’s something to do. And, if the police give you that letter, and you feel you can share it, I would like to see it. I told your wife and the officer I was eager to read it, but I didn’t touch it because it was evidence. And last, whatever happens with Candice, I’d like to visit and talk to her, when that’s something she can accept.”

He considered that and nodded. “Those are perfectly fair. I might not do them, it just ... well ... it depends. Except that last. You’ll get to visit unless the doctors say you can’t.” Then he hesitated, bit his lip, and went on. “And thank you for assuming there’ll be a Candice to visit.”

“Where there is life, there is hope.”

He gave a little smile. Then lowered his head and moved his hands. I could see he was praying. I joined in.

We sat there for about 10 minutes before Mom and Angie rushed in. Angie flew over to me and hugged me, Mom did the same for Dad. Angie got the words out first. “How is she?”

“The last I heard was that she was unconscious, breathing, her heart was beating, and she has at least some brain activity. That was secondhand.” I nodded to Mr. Matthews, who’d looked up.

He smiled, a little, again. “Hello ... um ... Helen, is it? And Angie? Thank you both for your part in helping my daughter. I’m so grateful I don’t know what to say.”

Mom went over and hugged him. “We love your daughter, Erwin. Anything we can do, of course we will. No questions asked.”

After a little while, maybe fifteen minutes, a doctor came out wearing scrubs and a stethoscope. He looked around, spotted Mr. Matthews, and headed over. “Erwin Matthews?”

He nodded.

“I have an update. Do you... ?” He nodded towards an empty part of the waiting room.

Mr. Matthews shook his head. “If these people hadn’t helped, she wouldn’t be here. They can hear.”

The doctor nodded. “I’m Doctor Mayhew. Your daughter was brought in suffering from an overdose of Percodan and alcohol. Probably vodka. The paramedics pumped her stomach, which is, frankly, not that easy at the speed they were going. She was unconscious when she arrived. We gave her some drugs to help clear her system. They put her on oxygen in the ambulance; that’s continuing. She is currently in a mild coma, breathing on her own, heart beating on her own, no machines. She is showing evidence of significant brain activity. We consider her to still be in very serious condition; however, based on what we know now, we do not believe she has suffered any significant damage to her brain or major organs. I would not be surprised by some minor liver damage. Basically, I can’t make any promises, but her prognosis is generally favorable.”

Mr. Matthews was crying. I think we all were. I certainly was. “Thank you, Doctor, thank you, I don’t know how to...”

“Don’t thank me, thank the paramedics, and whoever got them there. Her breathing essentially failed on the way to the ambulance. Getting her on oxygen and doing some manual breathing for her kept her tissues oxygenated. Any more than a few minutes’ delay in starting treatment and we would be discussing major brain damage. Once the brain loses oxygen, it’s a very quick slide downhill. I don’t believe hers was deprived for any significant time, if at all.”

Mr. Matthews turned to me. “Steve. My god. Thank you. You saved my little girl.”

“We all did, Mr. Matthews. It took all of us. You listening to me, getting the paramedics in the house quickly...”

“Steve, no false modesty. If you hadn’t moved so damn fast, there wouldn’t even be any hope.”

“Thank you, Sir. Candice having a chance is the important thing.”

He started to say something, then decided against it.

Doctor Mayhew was looking at me. “You’re the one who called 911?”

I shook my head. “No, that was Mom.” I nodded to her; she blushed, smiled. “I asked her to, though. Dad and I were on our way to her house as fast as we could.”

“Thank you, son. I appreciate it, personally. There’s nothing worse than someone being brought in that we could’ve saved, if only it’d been a few minutes faster. You got us those few minutes.”

Angie squeezed me tight.

The doctor got up. “I’m going to tend to my patient. Right now, it’s a minor coma. Her body is just repairing itself. She could wake up in ten minutes, or ten hours, or, on the extreme end, ten days. I know you don’t want to miss anything, and I wouldn’t either. But I would strongly recommend getting some sleep. We can call you, Mr. Matthews, as soon as anything happens.”

Mr. Matthews started to speak, then hesitated. “Um ... I think my wife and other kids are on their way over.” I nodded. “I’ll wait for them and then we’ll see. I think one of us will stay here and the other will be home.”

“Can’t say as I blame you. What I gave you was good advice, but if it was my daughter, I’d be hard-pressed to be a minute farther away than I needed to be.”

As he was walking away, nearly out of sight, the door burst open again and Mrs. Matthews came bustling in with the two kids. “Erwin?! Erwin, is she... ?”

He looked up with a smile, small, but genuine, as he rose and pulled her into his arms. “She’s alive, and they think she’s got a good chance.”

Mrs. Matthews burst into tears. “Oh my God, oh thank God! What did they say?”

“The doctor said he thinks she doesn’t have any brain damage or injury to major organs. He says her body is just shut down repairing itself and she’ll probably ... hopefully ... wake up soon. It might be soon, or not so soon. He didn’t make any promises but just, he thinks, likely, she’ll recover.”

“Oh, thank you, God. Thank you!”

He turned to us, nodded to me. “He also said without them, and that means, without Steve and Angie’s quick thinking ... it’d be bad. She was minutes away, maybe less than minutes. She’d stopped breathing just as they got her to the ambulance.”

“Oh, my lord! Oh, Steve, thank you! And Angie! Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re a hero, like the officer said!”

Mrs. Matthews buried me in a hug. I hugged back.

“I just want her to be OK, Mrs. Matthews. All I wanted to do was help Candice. I didn’t set out to be a hero.”

“Well, you are a hero! Our hero!”

I’d been thinking things through. Candice wouldn’t want to see anyone for a while, and she probably wouldn’t be allowed to, either. She very particularly wouldn’t want to see me. I wasn’t a hero to her. I was the one who’d destroyed her very careful planning. I still thought that maybe she’d regretted it, subconsciously, and that’s why she called. Calling required planning. She didn’t have her own phone. She’d dragged a phone into her room on a long cord and then barricaded the door. If she hadn’t called, I’d have dithered over the letter, or been hard pressed to get Dad to race over there. In that case, I’d have seen her next at her funeral.

I wouldn’t let myself get too down for hesitating. There had been too many unknowns, too many what-ifs. But the fact was, what saved Candice’s life was Candice. I was just the instrument of the salvation.

In any case, hanging around here was pointless. All I could do today, or tomorrow, or this week was anger her. She’d told me what she wanted, and I’d ignored it. And I’d do that again in a heartbeat. But she wouldn’t see it that way.

I turned to Mom and Dad and Angie. “Mom, Dad. She’s in excellent hands. I think we should go home and let the Matthews call us when there’s news. She...” I paused, hesitating. Then decided, yeah, I should just go on. “ ... she wanted to die. That’s a choice none of us think is a good one. But she wanted that. If she saw me, or Angie, well, we’re the ones who betrayed her and spoiled her plan. She’s going to need time to get past that. I don’t want to get in the way of her recovery.”

The Matthews blinked at each other, perplexed. “You think she’d be ... mad ... um... ?” Erwin said.

Mrs. Matthews chewed her lip, then nodded. “He’s right, she would. You know how she is. It doesn’t matter that it was right, it got in the way of her plan. She won’t be happy at all.”

She turned to me. “I hate for you to go after all you’ve done, but you’re right. I promise you’ll stay updated the whole way. A few days ago, Steve, I thought I might hate you because of ... um ... things ... and now I owe you my daughter. It’s amazing. I just, I’m never going to be able to thank you enough.”

I was getting redder. “Thank you. It means a lot to me.”

We gathered together. Dad looked at Mom. “Helen, why don’t you drive the kids, since we have both cars. I bet they want to ride together.”

We both nodded. I hugged Dad, something neither of us were used to. “Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it. Everything you did. Every second you saved on the drive over might’ve been what made the difference.”

He chuckled. “The first time I’ve ever gotten praised for speeding!”

We piled into the back of Mom’s car, Angie’s fingers interlacing with mine. We stayed quiet. This night had wrung my emotions dry. I’m sure it’d done the same to all of us.

As we were getting out of the car, Dad pulled in. Angie stopped us in the TV room, hugging everyone at once. We just stayed like that a bit. Finally, we disentangled. I looked at a clock. 2:45 am. I’d lost all track of time.

We headed back to the bedrooms. Dad went into their bedroom, Mom stayed out for a moment. “You are both such good kids. I’m proud of you. Just ... please ... do not — ever! — put us through that!” She gave a little nervous laugh. It had to be very unsettling to see a kid our age, close to our family, great on the outside, in the hospital fighting for her life because she’d tried to throw it away.

Angie hugged her. “Never, Mom. Promise.”

I followed. “Me neither. Promise.”

Angie surprised me, and then Mom surprised me more, perhaps. As Mom turned to the bedroom, Angie spoke softly. “Mom, I’m ... it’s ... I don’t ... I don’t want to be alone after this. I’m staying with Steve.”

Mom turned, smiled a little. “Of course. You don’t think we know you and your brother talk after hours?”

Angie blushed, then laughed a little. “Well, I’d hoped, but ... of course you do.”

“We do. It’s a good thing that you’re so close. We know you have things to talk about that us old folks can’t help with.”

“Mom?”