She moves toward the bed. I sit next to her. “What was that?”
“Panic attack.”
“How do you know for sure?”
“I’ve been having them since I was seven. They started after my mom’s murder.”
“How often?”
“Sometimes I go months without one. But they come more frequently when my anxiety level increases.”
Harry’s illness has her completely stressed but I’ve not seen her do this. “How often are they happening now?”
“That’s the fourth one today.”
“You’re experiencing attacks that bad every day, up to four times?”
“Sometimes five or six.”
“How did I not know this?”
“I hide them.”
How? “There’s no concealing that.”
“When I feel it coming, I go into the bathroom and stay until it’s over.”
I’ve noticed several times she’s slipped away unexpectedly but I didn’t think anything of it. “How does one feel?”
“Like I’m dying. I can’t breathe. It’s like being smothered with a pillow all over again. It’s agonizing and there isn’t a thing I can do to stop it.”
Bonny is stressed to the point it’s affecting her well-being. She doesn’t want her father to suffer. His condition is hurting both him and her.
This changes everything.
* * *
We’re at the hospital by nine, as we have been every morning since we married. It’s certainly not the typical way newlyweds spend their honeymoon. But Bonny wouldn’t have it any other way. She won’t leave her father. And I wouldn’t ask her to.
“Ellison and I are going to Starbucks. ’Tis the season of everything pumpkin. My favorite. Want anything?”
“Aye, you know what I want.”
“Dad? Care for a coffee or pastry?”
“I’ll … pass, girlie.”
I’m glad the two of them are gone. It works out perfectly because I wasn’t sure how I was going to swing being alone with Harry.
“Bleu and I discussed you last night. She told me some things that put all of this into a different perspective.”
Harry perks up.
“You aren’t fooling her. She knows you’re in terrible pain and it’s hurting her. She’d do anything to take it away. It’s killing her to see you suffer.”
“Don’t want … that for her.” Neither do I.
“In the middle of discussing your condition, she became so upset that it triggered one of her episodes.”
“Panic … attack?” Harry’s even more short of breath today. He can hardly put two words together. I can’t see this stretching out much longer by natural means.
“Aye. A bad one. I’ve never seen her like that.” The attack she had in Edinburgh wasn’t like this. This was something entirely different.
“She scared the shit out of me. I thought she was dying.”
“Been like … that since … little girl.”
“It lasted an eternity. When it was over, she admitted she’s been having up to six a day and hiding them from us.”
Harry closes his eyes and barely shakes his head. “Good … Lord.”
“She described how she felt afterward. It made me think about you and what it must be like for you all day long. I was lying in bed last night holding my breath. I wanted some idea about what it must feel like but it’s not the same. So my question is—are you still asking me to assist you in your voluntary euthanasia?”
“Yes.”
Once I consent, there’s no going back. I’ll be agreeing to mercy kill my wife’s father. “All right. I’ll do it. But she can never know.”
He smiles and a most unusual expression comes over his face. I think it’s relief. “Thank … you.”
“When do you want me to do it?”
“Need to … say goodbye … to my … girls first.”
“Of course. Do you want them to be with you when you go?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I wouldn’t want Bleu or Ellison to harbor feelings of guilt for not being present when it happens. Do you want to know when?”
“No … I’ll live … every moment … like it’s … the last.”
“I’ll make it painless. You’ll go to sleep and never know.”
“You’re a … good man, Sinclair. You just … haven’t … figured it … out yet.”
“Bleu is the only good thing about me.” She’s the only reason the light inside me bothers to battle the dark.
“My girl … has a way … of bringing out … the best … in everyone.”
It’s true. My sweet lass has brought out a whole new side of me, one I didn’t know existed. “I don’t know how she can love someone like me. But by some miracle, she does.”
“You don’t … know this … but you’ve helped … to heal … her heart.” He pauses but I can tell he has more to say. “I knew it … the night you … came to … ask for … her hand.”
I was positive I’d never love anyone. I didn’t believe I was capable but that was before Bleu changed everything.
* * *
It’s a new day—and it’ll be Harry’s last. I’m not looking forward to assisting him in leaving this life. It may very well be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
I’m predicting the onset of an attack for Bleu when he goes—probably a series of them. I dread that as much as being the one to end Harry’s life.
This is clearly his worst day yet. His breathing is much more labored, his color an ashy gray despite the additional oxygen. I seriously doubt he’d last much longer without intervention anyway. So why would I help him leave this world when he’s well on his way out on his own? He wants to die peacefully with dignity, not lying in a bed unable to move while he slowly drowns. I can give him that.
I have everything I need in my pocket—three large syringes. Each is filled with a hefty dose of medication intended to deliver a peaceful death. All I have to do is wait for the right time to inject them into his IV.
I luck out when Ellison and Bleu decide they’re hungry and want to go to the cafeteria. I opt to stay behind.
Harry was an agent for thirty years. He’s not stupid. He didn’t want any warning of when it was coming but he knows what I’m about to do. I see it in his eyes.