They Came Together

The first time they came together, Gabe found the attention difficult to adjust to. All four siblings had stopped everything to come see him stuffed up with tubes and wires and to bear witness to the type of indecency that no one ever really wants to put on display. He cried when the doctors told him that first time, ugly choking sobs, sniveling and hiccuping he was stuck in a torrent of embarrassment and selfish terror rather than a concern for dying from gastric cancer. His brother, fresh out of medical school spoke in doctor language to the other doctors and translated the big words into English for Gabe. In the wake of Jed’s firm direction, his mother had inevitably needed to fill the air with a near conniption the first time he told her, announcing to all that she was moving upstate to help take care of him. For the first time in his life Gabe considered moving to Oregon.

He used to talk about it with anyone that would listen. He would say all of the big words, dropping his voice an octave when he would mention “the C word”. He was important to people in a way he had never been before. He was on the news, people brought him hash brown casseroles, and fundraisers were had in his name. He was placed on a pedestal where he sat collecting dust. On high he sat as a hero and a warning. Gabe made people put their own lives and decisions into focus, forced them to thank God it wasn’t them. He went on living, but he realized that this disease took from him things he could not replace. This disease was tearing his skin, breaking his bones, sucking away his life, but he understood that, had seen it, read it, felt it within, he was prepared for it. Gabe never thought he would have to watch this take away his voice, his personality, every building block that made Gabe, Gabe. He watched it take his name.

“What happened to that guy from our class?”
“Oh right, he kind of dropped off the radar.”
“I heard he’s sick, cancer or something.”
“Damn.”
“I know right.”
“Oh I meant to ask, are you going to Barb’s Saturday?”

The second time they came together he had a far more significant understanding of his disease and the implications. Gabe realized very suddenly in an afternoon that the scope of his life was narrowing. He was running into walls and barriers far faster than he had expected. The feeling scorched his throat, the air in his lungs frozen as he struggled to truly find the parameters of his life, to understand the edges and contours of his body. Standing in front of a mirror once, Gabe had grabbed and pinched at his chest and stomach until he left bruises. As if he could feel the cancer in his body, could hold it in his hands. Arms shaking, legs quivering, stomach clenched, his body fell flat against the floor as Gabe tried to put his head back into place, pull his mind out of the pit caved into his chest.

Up until now, Gabe had managed to hide the panic attacks from his mother, but in combination with the sudden blood clot in his legs Gabe was stuck on the floor. To her credit, upon finding him she had remained surprisingly calm, for her at least, she managed to wait until the ambulance arrived to burst into histrionics.

His residence in the hospital was close to becoming permanent, and in the two days he spent recovering there Gabe decided to be selfish. His mother, bless her soul, had thought the event warranted a family emergency, calling all of the children back to the nest. There, cramped in Gabe’s room he asked them to take him away for a week.

“No.” Jed said. “Hell no.”

“Fine.” Gabe said, huffing as he started pulling off his heart monitor, Jed grabbed his hands before he could pull the IV out.

“Would you,” Gabe shoved and pushed, twisted out of Jed’s grasp. “Christ Gabe, stop!” Jed said.

“Gabe calm down.” Brooke asked, but Gabe didn’t care, wasn’t seeing straight. “Let’s just talk it through with the doctors, see what our options -”

“There aren’t any options Brooke. There’s nothing but managing the time I have. Look at me.” He whined, limply lifting his wrist. Turning to Jed, “Tell her.” Jed had a pained look on his face, stuck between what he wanted to say and what he needed to say. Sydney stepped between them, hopped onto the bed and intertwined her fingers with his.

“I think we should do it.” She said.

“Yeah, well you also thought people got pregnant by holding hands until you were fifteen so your track record is kind of lacking.” Dana quipped.

“It’s just a road trip.” Sydney said.

“With our gimp brother whose immune system is in a state of freefall. Sure, let’s trek through truck stop bathrooms and motel rooms that don’t get sanitized -”

“It was one NBC special -”

“I’m sure we can ask the CDC for a sample of ebola while we’re out, hell why stop at the car trip, let’s just take a flight out to West Africa.” Dana finished, looking at Gabe. “I’m not going on some strung out Make a Wish foundation road trip just so you can fulfill some selfish frat bro delusion from college.” She swiped her hand across her eyes.

“Gabe,” Jed said, running a hand across his jaw, “You can’t. A week long road trip away from the house and the hospital, skipping out on your chemo in the middle of a session,” He said gently “you’re throwing away time.”

“I don’t want that kind of time.” Gabe hates the way he has to beg, but he can’t do this without them, doesn’t want to. Jed doesn’t know how to get through to him, how to make him understand the severity of what he’s proposing, but what scares him more is the possibility that Gabe does understand. “The doctors want to do a total gastrectomy. Scoop out my insides. I can’t,” Gabe stops, rubs his face. He had imagined such an impassioned speech, mic drop included, but already his breathing is shallow, sweat collecting in the hollows of his throat.

“What do you want Gabe?” Sydney asks. Gabe needs to know that he’s still a person, that the world outside of this hospital knows he exists before he gives surgeons permission to clip his wings, ground him permanently.

Turning away from Gabe, Jed pinches the bridge of his nose, grinding his teeth as his other hand splays against the air in a physical manifestation of his frustration.

“Brooke, can you -” Jed waves his hand, hoping that perhaps she’ll be able to talk sense into him. Brooke finds herself agreeing with Gabe. Turning, Jed stares, gaping. She’s leaning over Gabe, brushing the hair off his forehead, putting him back into bed as she whispers at his ear before ushering everyone out of the room.

“What are you thinking?” Jed says through clenched teeth.

“He’s not a child, this is something he wants.” She looks at him, arms crossed as a look of discomfort
crosses her face. “What did he mean, managing his time?” Brooke says, and Jed can’t hold her gaze.

“There are still options we haven’t explored, there’s a new -”

“Jed.” He sinks to his haunches, leans against the wall.

“So we’re just giving up on him? Because that’s what this road trip is, a way for him to say goodbye.” He says.

“He’s miserable.”

“He’s alive.”

“For now.” She retorts. “Gabe knows what he wants and I’m not seeing a reason to keep it from him.”

“We don’t even know if he can handle this kind of trip. What happens if he gets another blood clot while we’re on the road? Next one could be in his heart, his brain, I’m not willing to risk that.” Jed says.

“I don’t care. Are you telling me that he’s at any less of a risk of that happening here?”

“There’s a chance of saving him here.” Jed snaps, standing back up.

“That he doesn’t want. I’m not going to force him to stay here like this. We’re going on the road trip.” Brooke says, staring at the three of them in turn. “All of us.” She turns to walk away from them, grabbing Dana’s elbow as she goes.

“Where are we going?” Dana asks.

“To rent a van.”

“I’m going to vom.” Sydney moaned.

“You’re not.” Brooke called from the passenger seat and Syd kicked Gabe’s seat as she pretended to stuff a finger down her throat.

“Vom.” The word came out like taffy accompanied by gagging noises in the back row of the van.
“Sydney, I swear. Do not.” Dana hated it when people threw up because then she would throw up and then she would see her vomit and throw up again. Syd kicked Gabe’s chair again as she pretended to puke and Sydney found the smallest bit of satisfaction as Dana flinched and Gabe rolled his face away from Dana, shoulders shaking. “God, what are you, five?” Dana snapped.

“Okay, like I am cramped back here with all this crap and I can’t breathe and you know I have motion sickness. I am literally dying back here.” Sydney said.

“No, that’d be me.” Gabe said smartly, and Sydney’s eyes snap to his face and then back to Dana’s as the color practically drains out of her face before her blood pressure ratchets to new levels, her face flushing red. The silence, blissful and pure, only lasts seconds before the van erupts.

“Are you serious?” Dana screeches

“Dammit Sydney.” Jed calls from the driver’s seat and Sydney turns to stare incredulously.

“How is this my fault?” Gabe is laughing in earnest now, and Sydney grabs the pillow she had been using to smack him over the head, pulling back to hit him again when Dana snatches it from her.

“What the hell is wrong with you? You can’t hit him like that?” Dana yells, throwing it back in Sydney’s face.

“He has stomach cancer not a fucking brain tumor.” Sydney said. “Although I do think you should ask the doctor about that Gabe, mom did drop you from the changing table a couple of times.”

“I’m about to pull this car over.” Jed says to Brooke. “They’re being ridiculous.”

“Can we not, Jed?” Brooke says.

“I don’t know, why don’t we ask the kid who’s vom-ing in the back seat?” Jed bit back.

“I have a condition!” Sydney was yelling, leaning over the back row, and she did have a prescription for motion sickness pills.

“Yeah, we have a condition.” Came Gabe’s voice and Dana ran hands down her face in frustration.

“Stop encouraging her.” Dana hissed.

“I am literally sitting right here.” Sydney said, leaning her torso all the way over the seat until she was inches from Dana’s face. Dana reared back as Sydney lurched forward in an attempt to lick Dana’s face.

“I swear to God, Sydney, I am going to climb over this seat -” Syd leaned back and swatted Dana in the face with her pillow and Dana lunged at Sydney without missing a beat. Unfortunately, or perhaps it was fortunate, that Dana’s seatbelt yanked her back into place. Brooke, in the front turned back around to stare out her window tuning out the spat. Meanwhile, Dana groped the floorboard for some type of weapon to facilitate her retaliation, only finding her hardback. Dana slung the book over the seat and it flew into the rearview glass with a bang causing Brooke to jump and Jed to curse as the van jerked and narrowly missed swiping the car next to them.

Slamming on the breaks the entire van lurched forward as Jed maneuvered the van to the shoulder of the highway, throwing it into park before twisting around to glare.

“I think my collar bone is broken.” Dana moaned from her seat, grabbing at her neck where the seatbelt had left red welts.

“Seriously, Jed, who let you drive?” Sydney said.

“Ditto.” Gabe said, nodding.

“Nobody says ditto anymore.” Sydney said.

“A lot of people say ditto Syd.”

“The last time I heard someone say ditto was in eighth grade in Mr. Laretto’s class, and he was like ninety.”

“He was barely forty.” Gabe said.

“He was senile and still wrote on a chalkboard like it was the 90’s.”

“It was the 90’s.” Gabe said.

“My point is that he made those weird mix tapes for all the girls in our class and he always smelled like cinnamon.” Sydney said. “Nobody smells like cinnamon unless you work at Hobby Lobby or you’re a fourteen year old girl with a gift card to Bed Bath and Beyond.”

“Yeah, that was weird.” Dana said.

“Hey.” Jed barked, slapping the back of the fabric covered seat for less of an effect that what he was probably going for. “We are on a family road trip. We are going to have fun.” Jed deadpans. “And fun,” he paused, eyeing each of them in turn, “does not involve a car wreck, or vom-ing, or hitting Gabe, or throwing shit in the car.”

“Or you.” Sydney mutters, and Jed loudly pulls air in through his nostrils.

“Distracted driving isn’t fun. It’s serious.”

“She’s right though.” Brooke interrupts, and Jed turns to Brooke his hands becoming more animated the more frustrated he becomes.

“I’m sitting here trying to drive this behemoth and I have the three stooges in the back screwing around. I’m trying to be safe.” He said.

“Can we go?” Brooke turns around, rubbing her temples in an attempt to tune out their bickering when she hears the van door slide back. Looking over her shoulder Brooke sees Gabe shoot out of his seat.

“Gabe!” Brooke yells, unbuckling and jumping out after him as he runs to the grassy area of the shoulder. Slowing down she watches as he leans, hands on his knees, and vomits. “Sydney, toss me a water.” Catching the bottle Brooke walks over and rubs circles on Gabe’s back as he finishes coughing. “Here.” He nods his thanks as he rinses out his mouth. “Are you okay? Is this,” she runs a hand through her hair in a misguided attempt at slowing her racing pulse. “Is this normal?”

“It’s fine, Brooke. Can you just give me a sec.” He says, his eyes trained on the ground and Brooke nods to herself, biting on her thumb. She walks back towards the van where Jed is, pacing.

“This is ridiculous.” He says, pausing to look at her and then past her to where Gabe is still.

“He’s okay.” Brooke says.

“No he’s not okay. Jesus Christ, he’s dying, Brooke.” He says, and it takes Brooke a moment to find her words. Jed realizes too in that moment, this was the first time he ever acknowledged it out loud, he opens his mouth to say something, realizes there isn’t anything to say and shuts it again.

“I know, but this is where he wants to be.” Brooke says.

“Where he wan-” He chokes out, incredulous. “Where he should be is a hospital.”

“We’ve been through this, Jed.” Brooke steps directly in front of him, grabbing his shoulders. “Jed, we’ve been through this. This is what Gabe wants.” She says quietly, giving his shoulders a small shake before releasing him. “Just give it to him.” Brooke watches as the tension builds through his shoulders, runs through his neck before Jed releases the breath he had been holding, running his hands through his hair and back down his face.

“Hey, feeling better.” Jed says suddenly, and Brooke turns to see Gabe walking back towards them with a grin, but it’s hard to miss the lack of color in his face, the bruises under his eyes.

“Yeah, I guess I went too hard with the Mexican food last night.” Brooke smiles, knowing that he didn’t touch his food last night, but huffs a forced laugh before herding him back into the van. Sliding the door shut she turns to look at Jed.

“Do you want me to drive?” She asks, but he doesn’t say anything. Hands on his hips, his jaw ticks as he walks towards where Gabe had been standing. Moving to stand by Jed she offers comfort in the hand on his shoulder.

“What about what we want?” Jed asks finally. Looking down she sees the blood laced vomit in the grass, looks away.

“We have the rest of our lives to do what we want Jed. Let’s do what Gabe wants for the rest of his.” She says, before walking back to the passenger seat. Jed walks around the van, gets into the driver’s seat and pulls the van back onto the road.

They don’t get much farther into the road trip. By Wednesday Gabe is barely holding anything down and by Thursday Sydney finds Gabe slouched against a tree in a puddle of his own bodily fluids, chest heaving as he cries into her shoulder. Brooke breaks down under Jed’s pressure, swallows all of her own fears and anguish as she puts Gabe back together. They’re driving to the nearest hospital when Gabe finally falls asleep. The street lights sweep over the car, highlighting the tight grip Jed holds on the wheel, tinting orange the blossoms of red across Brooke’s face.

Jed consults with the doctors, peeking at Gabe’s chart before he walks back into the room. He’s still asleep, knocked out on a cocktail of drugs. They’ve been here for two days now, Gabe unconscious for most of it. Jed frowns, seeing Gabe still hooked up to the dialysis machine, knowing that he had been scheduled to be taken off of it four hours ago.

Gabe wakes up, blinking sluggishly he finds the ache along his back and chest has intensified. Jed sits, playing with his phone as his brother slowly slips back into consciousness. Gabe shifts and feels the tug of the IV, huffing he looks around trying to find the strength to unwrap from the blanket burrito he’s found himself in. He looks up to see Jed and pauses in rumination for a moment.
Gabe croaks, and Jed stands to help adjust the bed to a sitting position before handing him the glass of water from the table. He takes a few sips as Jed stares down at his brother.

“What?” He asks finally.

“Did they cut me open?” Jed shakes his head, watches as Gabe acclimates himself to the bed in silence, freeing himself from the nest of sheets and wires and tubing before taking another sip from the glass.

“You had a mild case of pneumonia, it’s started clearing up, it’ll be a little longer before they’ll let us take you home.” Gabe puts the glass down, rubs the condensation between his fingers. His skin is raw, sensitive against the sheets. He can feel the rattle in his lungs. Gabe has known for a long time that he was unwell, but for the first time his body has turned on him in a manner that he never thought possible. He was more than sick now.

“Was it worth it?” Jed asked, motioning at the softly beeping equipment. “Was it worth this?” His wave encompassed the hospital room, but he meant the past week, the past four months of his life, the time he had inevitably sacrificed, all of it. Gabe understood, nodding as he fiddled with the bed remote.

“Had to let the ladies see this lush head of hair before it all falls out.”

“Seriously.” Jed said.

“Well, at least I won’t have to waste money on all that conditioner anymore.” Gabe laughs, closing his eyes as he leans back into his pillow. It’s not an answer, Jed thinks, shifting impatiently in his chair, purposefully making it squeal in protest. Gabe’s eyes open and he looks at Jeb for a minute before looking at the glass of water sitting on the table.

“Dana was in here all night, reading me passages from this book she’s been writing. It’s awful, something about salesmen and the CIA, but it helps me to relax during treatment. That’s not water,” Gabe says, glancing at the glass next to him. “It’s sprite. Syd probably brought it, I like it better than the apple juice they have here, she knows. Brooke has been in and out most of the day, dealing with mom for me, and you’ve been breathing down the nursing staff’s neck since we stepped foot in here.” Jed scoffed.

“Well I wouldn’t have to if they knew how to follow basic procedures. They tried to put you on a catheter for Christs sake, you’re welcome by the way.” Jed grumbles, Gabe snorts.

“What’s mom saying?”

“She’s hysterical, no surprise there, but Brooke managed to talk her out of flying down. God knows she’s a national incident waiting to happen.” Gabe’s grin fades into a yawn, his eyes sinking shut.

“You never answered my question.” Jed prods, desperate for some kind of confirmation, some sort of absolution from his role in Gabe’s predicament.

“I did, you just weren’t listening.” He recognizes the exhaustion laced through Gabe’s voice and knows to let the subject drop for now.

It’s an hour later, after Gabe has fallen asleep and Jed is reaming out the entire eighth floor medical staff for fucking forgetting that Gabe was supposed to be off dialysis four hours ago, Jed finally gets it.