He listened to the doctors outside the room. He listened to children cry and women scream. He listened to phones ringing off the hook. He listened to nurses gossip.
He listened to his heartbeat. He listened to the electocardiograph. He listened to his brother dying. He listened to Billy breathe.
Tyler held Billy’s hand. His comatose brother’s hand was warm, unlike his own icy fingers. Tyler looked at Billy’s face. His cheeks were still rosy, the corners of his lips still turned into a bit of a smile. He always was the handsome one, no matter what he did. Tyler gave a sigh and hung his head, his hand still in his brother’s hand, trembling. Billy breathed.
He remembered Friday when Billy took him to the Mensa meeting as a guest. Billy was using big words that Tyler didn’t understand then. He remembered when Billy was using words.
He remembered Saturday when Billy took him to the park because he’d been so good at his meeting. Billy played tag with Tyler and his friends from the institution, and Tyler’s friend Mary was always the first one to be caught. He remembered when Billy was running.
He remembered Sunday when Billy was driving the car home from church. Billy and Tyler told jokes just like they did when the wanted to see each other smile. He remembered when Billy was laughing.
But all Billy did now was breathe.
(to be continued)
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