Chapter 3

Narrator-

Cara watched with numbing horror the events that unfolded before her eyes. The nurses and doctors rushed into the room. One the nurses pulled a lever under the bed, and the entire bed with her father's frame snapped into a 180-degree line. His body pulsed, while a respiratory technician removed the nasal cannula from his nostrils then moved aside to allow the doctor room to intubate the patient. The tube was in, and the tip of Joe's pink tongue now slightly stuck out from below the tube and rested on his lower lip. The respiratory technician retook his place as he began manually bagging the patient.

A loud beeping sounded from the monitor, and Cara's eyes snapped to the screen. The heart rate had decreased significantly.

"Patient is bradycardic." One of the nurses announced.

"Push one of epi, let's start CPR."

"Ma'am." Cara suddenly heard in her left ear.

Cara's head snapped in the direction of the sound, her wide, unblinking eyes registering a short nurse of Asian descent with a round face and soft eyes. The nurse's hair was tied in a low bun at the base of her neck.

"How about we step out of the room for a moment?" The nurse invited.

"No!" Cara denied the offer firmly, her eyes returning to her father's figure, who's chest was now being pumped rhythmically by one of the earlier med students.

"I'm not leaving him." Cara decided firmly, her tone holding no room for argument.

"Okay." The nurse nodded her head in understanding, and instead chose to stay next to Cara in sign of comfort.

"Alright stop." The doctor ordered.

The medical student removed her hands from Joe's chest. All eyes turned to the monitor's screen. The heart rate seem to stabilize for a few beats, but then it started to decrease again.

"Alright, another dose of Epi." The doctor instructed again.

The same routine was followed. The medication was pushed into the IV line, and respiratory technician keeping a routine of pressing the bag rhythmically to imitate each breath. It was now the male student's turn to pump Joe's chest. The nurses all looked on anxiously.

"Take a break." The doctor called, and though Joe's heartbeat stabilized, it once again quickly declined in it's pace.

The elderly man shook his head, his brow furrowed as he stepped away from the bedside and approached Cara.

"Miss Thompson, I can only give him so much medication. If his heartbeat doesn't stabilize, he will flatline and at that point, performing more CPR, we'll only be hurting him." The doctor tried to explain as softly as possible, knowing just how delicate and yet pressing the matter was.

"Try again." Cara said without looking at the doctor, her dry eyes simply locked on her father.

Cara's heart thumped, her stomach boiling with a unwanted excitement and expectancy. There was a heat enveloping her scalp, and Cara could identify her fear thrumming in wave-like motions in the deepest and lowermost pits of her stomach. Yet, she couldn't tear her eyes away from her helpless dad. Cara told herself that she couldn't look away. She couldn't leave him.

The doctor sighed, "Miss Thompson-"

"Try again." Cara continued undisturbed, her tone hitting a cement-like octave.

The doctor looked towards his team and shrugged.

"Let's give him another dose-"

*BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!*

A loud beep interrupted the doctor's instructions, as Joe's body suddenly went rigid. His muscles tensed, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

"O2 sat is dropping." A nurse announced, "Patient is cyanotic."

"We're losing him doctor."

The Elderly doctored rushed back to the bedside, "let's do this." He urged his team.

The medication was given, and the CPR was resumed. The tech continued bagging his patient though now his actions were a bit more urgent. The oxygen level continued to decrease rapidly, even though his lungs were forced to manually perform each breath.

The nurse carefully wrapped an arm around Cara's frame. She brushed her hands up and down the length of Cara's arm. Meanwhile Cara couldn't help the tears that blurred her vision, welling at the pit of her lower eyelid, only to spill when it had overflowed. Cara blinked and quickly wipes away her tears. The green ambu bag groaned with every squeeze the respiratory tech performed, and eventually the erratic beeping seized.

"Alright stop." The doctor said in finality.

Once more, all eyes turned to the monitor. The heart rate did not stabilize, but instead it instantly lowered until finally, a green flat line was all that displayed on the black screen. The O2 saturation line displayed a number lower than what was necessary to survive. The Respiratory technician finally stopped pressing the ambu bag, and just like that, Joe breathed his last breath.

"Time of death-"

"No." Cara cut the doctor off, "there's no need," she said, "just shut it off, and clean it all up."

The doctor nodded in understanding, and with brief instructions to the nurses, and words of condolences to Cara, the doctor took his leave. Majority of the staff who came to the rescue also slowly filed out of the room. Only two nurses remained, as well as the one who stood next to Cara throughout the entire ordeal.

They saw to removing the tube from Joe's throat. They removed the stickers for the leads, as well as the IV line which was tucked in his left median cubital. Joe's tongue, now blue at the tip was pushed back into his mouth. Once Joe's body was completely free of foreign bodies, the nurses saw to removing all the equipment which had been used, including the nasal cannula, the remaining saline bags, the needles and IV flushes, and anything that was once used to provide aid for the patient. Throughout this entire process, Cara was still being embraced by the short nurse.

Once the cleanup was over, the bed was lowered, and one of the nurses asked if Cara needed anything else, to this she replied, "A comb. I need a comb, a small towel or sponge and some water and soap. He loved to keep himself fresh. Please."

"Of course Miss Thompson." The nurse replied softly. Then she exited the room and soon returned with the items that Cara had requested.

Cara finally broke away from the nurse's hold and walked to her father's bedside. She grabbed his still hand which was much colder than it used to be. She brought the rigid limb to her lips, and she kissed it. Then, the sobbing began. Cara's shoulders shook with every shuddered breath. She closed her eyes tightly and stomped her left foot against the floor.

"Damn, damn, DAMN!" Cara wept, and her knees gave out.

"Miss Thompson!" The emotional aid nurse rushed to her side, and picked her up, and sat her on the chair instead.

"Nooo-o-o! No!" Cara wailed, then she gripped her hair and bawled until she felt lightheaded and ready to vomit due to the nauseating convulsions of her abdomen.

"Oh gosh." Cara sniffled, "Oh." She moaned with a heavy grieving heart.

Cara stood up and crashed her knees on the floor next to her father's head.

Her trembling fingers reached for his face. She touched his cheek, and his cold lips.

"Come back to me. Please come back to me," Cara wept and begged, "Please?" She begged further when her father remain cold and still.

"Come on!" Her fist suddenly beat on the pillow next to his head.

"WAKE! UP! Don't do this! You don't get to leave me like this! Not like this! Who's gonna scare away my first boyfriend? Or walk me down the aisle? HUH! WAKE UP! It's not fair! Do you hear me?! NOT! FAIR! Mom left and now you?! You can't leave me alone, come back! COME BAA-A-A-CK!" Cara ranted and raged, her fist still beating on the bed.

The events following that cry were suddenly blurry to Cara. One moment she was bawling her eyes out, the next she was standing over her father's grave. The service which was made up of her coworkers and some of the members from her father's local church was now concluded, everyone paid their respects and condolences, and Cara now stood like a mannequin dressed in mourning garments. Her usual wild hair was tamed and pulled into a low bun. She wore a black fascinator in the form of a tiny hat, with a black veil covering her left eye. She wore low heels, and no makeup. Her head and neck were free of accessories, and aside from the small amount of perfume Cara spritzed on her skin earlier that Saturday morning, Cara refused to adorn her body in any way.

Her father always said that her natural, simple beauty was enough, and so Cara honored his memory by staying simple the day of his funeral.

"Come sweetheart, we gotta go." Cara's dense thoughts were broken by Bernadette's voice.

The plump brown woman encased Cara's shoulders in her arms, and carefully turned her away from her father's grave, which held the dark brown casket adorned with red and white roses. Bernadette led Cara to her car, and silently drove Cara home. Bernadette was one of the first to arrive at Cara's house when she heard the news of Joe's passing th evening before. Cara called her father's Pastor and said she didn't want to wait until next weekend to lay him to rest. When Cara arrived home, Bernadette ensured that she showered and ate something before Bernadette took her leave.

Cara sat on her couch, her eyes glazed over, her heart heavy. Then she shifted her gaze to her father's favorite spot. The last spot in this house where he was truly alive. Cara felt an anger burn through the sinews of her muscles. An energy whooshed through Cara's body, and next thing she knew, she had managed to push the chair to the backyard, and with a pink baseball bat she destroyed the frame. Cara roared and growled with every hit until every piece of wood that contributed to holding her father's weight over the years, were nothing but splinters.

Cara then returned back inside her house. She headed to her father's room first. She removed every piece of clothing her father ever used. From his Sunday best suit to his oldest sock which sported a hole at the toes. She removed every tie, every bedsheet, every watch. She discarded every toiletries, and every piece of garment Joe Thompson ever touched, Cara stuffed them into an old box, then brought them to her car. Cara returned back inside her home and now began combing the house for every item that reminded her of her father. Throughout this entire ordeal angry tears and heaves of mourning and desperation erupted from Cara's form.

Cara collected all her pictures and hid them in shoebox and stuffed it under her bed. In the kitchen, she ridded the house of Joe's favorite mug. She trashed his unfinished rocky road ice cream tub, and his left-over Mexican takeout from the day before. She dumped all the alcohol her father sipped on every once in a while, and as for the cigar box she purchased for him last Christmas, still untouched because her father didn't smoke, Cara placed it in the box she was going to drive to her local donation center.

When Cara's raid was complete, she grabbed her car keys and headed to the donation center. Upon arrival, Cara didn't even talk to one of the employees. Instead, she opened her car, removed the box and placed it in front of the door. Then she headed back home. On the way back, Cara found herself stuck in traffic. Marvin Gaye's Let's get it on, began to sound from the radio while Cara waited for the traffic to lessen. With one twist of her fingers on the volume button, the car fell mute. It was her father's favorite song.

Cara drove home in a depressed posture. Her shoulders hunched forward painfully, and her dry eyes now burned due to the earlier assault flooding of salty tears. Cara parked her car, and her anger flared when the hem of her jacket got caught in the door when she closed it. Cara growled and all but pulled her jacket from the metal door's grip. She felt her anger explode when the door didn't open quick enough, and upon entering her home which now felt too large for just her person, Cara kicked the door shut.

In that instant, her knees buckled again, and Cara's back slid against the door as she slowly sat on the floor and wept softly into her hands. Cara wasn't sure for how long she remained in that position, but eventually just as the bones in her glutes began to ache, a knock sounded on the door.

Cara lifted her head, her eyes darting around the house as she waited to see if the knock was real. Another string of knocks, and Cara was suddenly tempted to pretend that nobody was home. But then she remembered that her car was in the driveway, and Cara shut her eyes tightly, annoyed.

Cara forced her bottom off the hardwood floor and swiped her hands on her face to wipe away any stray tears drops, then releasing a breath through shaky lips, Cara opened the door.