Chapter Twenty
Within the inner depths of one of the finest medical facilities in the world,
an undisturbed hospital room remained dark and a deafening silence prevailed.
In its center, a male teenage body lay covered with a thin white cotton sheet.
No plastic tubes were attached, nor were there any high-tech medical equipment
hooked up to monitor any life signs.
There weren’t any – and never would be.
Paul’s insistence at staying flat-lined remained substantially worse than the incident he pulled as a four-year-old child – when he had refused to get off Santa Claus’ lap until given a cherry-flavored Tootsie Pop.
According to the medical report, Dr. Matthews hastily completed a few short minutes after his young patient’s failed surgical procedure ended: Mr. Paul Michael Pontiac, though only fourteen, was officially declared deceased. Cause of death – congestive heart failure induced by an embolized thrombus. However, this conclusion would not be confirmed until the state-required autopsy was completed.
To all aware of the horrifying incident, it appeared that Butch’s repeated stomping on the center of Paul’s sternum created multiple blood clots. Then as each hour passed, the one within his left ventricle continued to increase in size until it eventually proved to be fatal.
At present, Paul’s lifeless corpse remained in wait. At least until Mrs. Pontiac and her youngest son, Nathan, left the medical facility. Once that occurred, Pathology would be notified and an autopsy would commence.
Following the procedure, the teenage corpse would be placed on one of the numerous shelves inside the morgue specifically designed for human remains until the scheduled time arrived for it to be forwarded to whatever funeral home Mrs. Pontiac would have specified.
Once again, due to uncontrolled bullying, a valued human life had been violently terminated. Its multicolored quasi-dimensional life’s fire extinguished – way before its designated time.
*****
Being between the lunch and supper hour, the cafeteria at Duke Medical Center at present was nearly empty.
On the far right of the dining area, a twenty-something couple appeared to be involved in an extremely intense discussion. Loud words were being spoken and their arms repeatedly flayed in the air. Yet, their servings of Caesar salad and lattes, which sat on top of the gray Formica table between them, remained untouched.
Sitting opposite the livid couple about midway on the left side, an older seventy-something gentleman wearing a multi-shade green plaid shirt and tan casual-styled dress pants - sat alone. His left hand was tightly grasped around a cup of black coffee he continually stared at. In viewing the redness in the aged one’s wrinkled cheeks, one might conclude that if it were socially acceptable to cry in public, then he surely would. Apparently, a loved one had recently passed or was deathly ill.
In the center of the hospital chow hall resided a third party – a middle-aged, blond-haired mother sat beside her wheelchair-bound, eight-year-old son. And even though their conversation, for the most part, was so quiet that someone sitting a few feet away from them would not be able to make out the words spoken, from a distance it appeared the boy was adamantly refusing to accept what he was being told.
“It can’t be!” Nathan screamed in a raised whisper as he glared into his adopted mother’s face. “Paul can’t be dead, Aunt Ellen. I don’t believe it. Paul would never leave me.”
Understanding her young one's reason for denial, Ellen watched as two continually flowing streams coursed down her son's reddened cheeks like a pair of rushing waterfalls.
I can only imagine the heart-wrenching pain of losing so many loved ones within such a short period. Early last Fall, it was Nathan’s parents. Then shortly after Thanksgiving, my husband and his natural father, was killed. And now, here we are at the beginning of a new year, and his half-brother is murdered. That’s more than enough to drive anyone into denial.
“I’m sorry, Nathan,” she eventually said, trying to comfort him by grasping his right hand. “I know how much you loved Paul. … We both did. And if there was any possible way I could bring him back to life, I would.”
Nathan briefly looked upward and gazed into her face, then exploded, once again into a silent sob. “You just don’t understand, Aunt Ellen,” Nathan’s voice squeaked as he stared at the tear-covered cheeseburger and fries sitting in front of him. “Paul can’t be dead. I know he can’t be. There was so much we were supposed to do together, like finish his computer game – Clash of The BattleStars II.”
“I know, Sweetie,” Ellen replied, quietly reaching inside her navy colored purse to pull out a flora-designed handkerchief, so she could dab his eyes. “But I’m afraid it will no longer be possible. Paul’s gone to live with our Heavenly Father.”
“Heavenly Father?” A crooked smile unexpectedly surfaced on Nathan’s face and he bent his head as if to pray.
About a minute later, “No. That’s not true,” Nathan calmly declared as if injected with a burst of profound inner strength. “Paul hasn’t gone to stay! He only went there to visit our father, and he’s going to come back - very soon. … I can prove it.”
“What?” Ellen’s grayish-blue eyes widened, and she stared at the youngster in total bewilderment. “Paul’s going to come back from the dead … and you can prove it? That can’t be,” she replied in a non-believing tone. “Dr. Matthews is one of the best cardiologists around here, and he declared your brother dead. There’s no way your brother can come back to life.”
“Yes, he can,” Nathan stubbornly insisted as his brown eyes glared in pure determination. “God told me he would.”
Leaning back, Ellen folded her arms across her abdomen and displayed a false smile. “God told you he would? How and when?”
“Just a few seconds ago,” Nathan calmly answered. “Soon after I finished my prayer. I heard his voice speaking … inside of me.”
Yeah. Right, Ellen thought as she continued to stare into the face of her stepson. She then paused for a second and took a deep breath. I really wish Nathan could be right. …Heaven knows I’d be willing to do about anything to have my son back.
“Is there any way we can go see Paul?” Nathan asked, breaking into her thoughts. “If we did, I could prove to you - he’s alive.”
Ellen considered the possibility. I know what Nathan wants. Yet, common sense clearly dictates it would be a waste of time. Not to mention, the additional hurt it would bring upon him. And isn’t Nathan hurting enough? Then again, maybe letting Nathan see Paul’s lifeless corpse would bring the closure he obviously needs.
“Are you sure you really want to see him?” Ellen asked, knowing she would first have to find someone who would know where Paul’s corpse was residing. “Seeing your brother dead is only going to upset you. Especially since for some unknown reason, you think that God has told you he’s alive.”
“I know Paul is.” A confident smile predominately displayed on Nathan’s face, and he reached for one of the rear wheels of his stainless steel chair. “Like I just told you. I can prove it.”
“Okay. But you know what you’re suggesting is virtually impossible, Nathan,” Ellen said as she stuck her handkerchief back inside her purse and snatched the half-empty coffee cup in front of her. “Not only did your brother die on the operating table; I'm sure no one bothered to sew him back up since an autopsy has to be performed. So there’s no way Paul can be alive.”
Nathan turned to gaze at her, and his eyes twinkled. He then rolled his chair slightly more than a foot backward and repositioned it, so he could directly face her.
“Don’t you have faith in God, Aunt Ellen?” he questioned in an innocent tone only a child his age could utilize. “He is the best physician ever, so nothing’s impossible for Him. You’ll see. God’s going to heal Paul.”
Ellen sighed. If we all only had the faith of a young child. “Yes, Nathan. I do believe God occasionally heals people. But just because we would like Him to bring Paul back to life – doesn’t mean he’ll necessarily do it. Sometimes people die for a reason and when they do, they stay dead.”
“So you think God’s lying to me?” Nathan said, raising his eyebrows high.
“No. That’s not what I’m saying, Nathan. God would never lie to you. … I just think that perhaps you want Paul to be alive so much, you have somehow tricked yourself into believing God has told you he is.”
Nathan stopped for a moment and pondered what his stepmother just said.
“No. I don’t agree, Aunt Ellen. I believe it was God. … Can’t we go see Paul so I can show you I’m right?”
Ellen loudly exhaled. “Okay Nathan. Since you insist. But I hope you're not going to be too shocked or lose your faith in God when you discover all that remains of your brother is nothing but a lifeless empty shell.”
“Paul left us an empty shell?” Nathan’s small mouth formed a perfect circle and question marks formed in both of his eyes. “What do you mean? … Would it be like those you find on the beach?”
Ellen chuckled. “Never mind, Sweetie. … Let’s get going.”
Carelessly slinging her overfilled purse over her right shoulder, Ellen stepped behind Nathan’s wheelchair and the two of them proceeded toward the help desk inside the hospital’s entranceway.