What About Max?
Written by Brody Levesque
One
Life never seems to get any easier, does it? It's simple; some people hate other people just because they can. Stupid, huh? Yeah, well, if you're a person with a different skin color, religion or sexual orientation than the majority, then you're likely to hear, "Fuck you, it's on!" That's usually followed by more angry words, and sometimes a beating - or worse. I ought to know; it's why I am standing here in this stupid hospital room's doorway, watching my big brother slowly die. 'It's so wrong!' I scream in my head. 'The only thing he ever did to anybody was to be nice, be himself, be a teen, be Max - and yeah, okay, be gay. What the fuck?!'
I'm so pissed. Yeah, I know I shouldn't cuss. "It's not lady-like," Mom's always whining. Yeah, well, I just want to scream "Fuck you" at the world right now. My brother looks like a science fair project gone wrong. Oh, and he has some 'nice' bruises to go with his new battered and bandaged 'look.'
"Meghan, honey?"
I look up at my Dad's face. He looks like hell. I reach over and squeeze his hand and he pulls me into a tight hug. I bury my nose into his suit jacket and smell that funky cologne he always manages to bathe himself in which pisses Mom off royally.
"Honey, we need to get something for dinner. The nurses will take care of him. Max'll be fine."
I burrow deeper into his coat and hold on tighter.
"Meghan, sweetie, let's go get Mom and find something to eat, okay?"
I grunt. I'm not normally a freaking cave girl, but that's the best I can do right now. I am choked up and don't want to cry again.
Dad reaches up, strokes the back of my head and then lets go of me. I look up into his bright green eyes and I see the pain in them. 'Damn, this really sucks.'
"Okay, Daddy. Let's go, I guess. Can we come back after dinner? Please?"
He nods at me and glances over my head at Max lying in the bed. This is so pathetic and so wrong. It's a freaking nightmare, complete with really ugly shit included as a bonus.
All you can hear is the sound of machines beeping and the gasping noise of the one stuffed down his throat. He's got tubes to piss out of and feed him - and Christ, the wires! If he could see himself, he'd really be bummed. Then there's that really nasty smell that every hospital I've every been in has, kinda of a floor-wax/antiseptic/who-knows-what mix. Yuck!
'Oh shit, my eyes are watering. It's time to go, right now!' Dad gently turns me around and we walk out of the Intensive Care Unit to find Mom. She's down by the Nurse's station, talking to some old guy in a white lab coat and those green scrubs that everybody's wearing.
'Oh no,' I think as I see her face. She's got that look on her face that she uses just before she frosts somebody. I look up at Dad and see him frown.
"Joanne, let's go eat. Meghan and I are starving."
"Yeah Mom, come on."
Mom hesitates. I can almost hear her thinking, 'What? Leave Max alone?' The old guy interrupts us.
"Ah, Mr. Galloway?" My Dad nods. "I'm Dr. Wheelus from the Orthopedics department. I'm the surgeon in charge of your son's case. I was just telling your wife here that although the prognosis will be very guarded for the next forty-eight hours, barring any serious complications or infections, we should be able to wean him off the sedative regimen soon and let him wake up by himself when he's ready." I feel my Dad's grip on my hand tighten.
"Doctor Wheelus, did the bullets... " My Dad's face contorts as he trails off. "Were you able to fix the damage to my son? I don't understand; what can we expect? Will he recover?"
My Mom makes an awful choking noise. Dad lets go of my hand and quickly puts his arm around her.
"That part of the surgery went well and we're fairly positive that the damage was contained and repaired. However, his recovery and the long-term effects are a huge question mark, Mr. Galloway, and there are no certain answers that I can share with you and your wife - and, ah, your daughter." He smiles apologetically at me. "There is, of course, always the chance that your son could develop life-threatening complications, which, ah, well... " The Doctor trails off uncomfortably as that bit of good news sinks in. 'Jesus, this is one seriously fucked-up mess.' I turn away from my parents and walk back to the window to the ICU room to watch Max. Well, to watch the machines that are keeping him alive for now, anyway. I can see the reflection of the scene behind me and my stricken parents clutching at each other like they're drowning. Yeah, well shit, we are drowning, all of us - but especially my unconscious brother. The Doctor is still rambling on about medical shit ,I'm sure, but I've tuned him out; I don't want to hear it. 'Damn it, Max can't freakin' die. I won't let him! Shit, I need him!'
I see a nurse's reflection slide up next to me in the window, blocking my view of the drama going on behind me. "You gonna be okay, hon?"
She's got one of those slow, sticky-syrupy southern accents like a Country Music Singer. I shake my head. No, I am most definitely not "gonna be okay" until I see Max's quirky, lopsided grin and those greenish-gray eyes of his again. She takes hold of my hand and I feel her put something in it. I look down and realize that I'm holding Max's 'Live Proud' rainbow Gay Pride bracelet that he always wears.
"We have to remove everything - jewelry, watches, you know - before surgery, and I was going to give this to your folks, but... " She stops for a second and gives me 'the look,' so I decide to rescue her sorry butt fast.
"My Mom and Dad know that my brother is gay and it's not a biggie with them or me. OK?"
She just shakes her head. We stand there together for a long minute and then she disappears.
'Thank God!' Her tone of voice suggested that she thought of Max as a diseased cockroach. 'What the hell is wrong with people? It's like being gay is a terminal disease or a fucking plague, shit!' So much for tolerance and understanding.
I realize that I've got a big, bad case of sewer mouth going on, but at this moment in human history, fuck it! Hell, some asshole shot my brother because he didn't like... what? Max being gay? Strange? Long-haired? A typical teenager? Like I said, fuck it.
"Meghan, sweetie? Let's go."
I slip Max's bracelet into my pocket and follow my parents down the hallway to the elevators. We get outside and before Dad can say anything, all three of our cellphones go ballistic. We'd turned them on as we had come out of the elevators and walked out through the front lobby. Dad grimaces and I just shrug. Welcome to today's world of Twitter and text-me-raw, right?
"Mister and Missus Galloway? Would you care to comment on your son's shooting?"
'Oh, this is just perfect!' I fume. First our cellphones go crazy and now bright lights and obnoxious television reporters surround us, blocking any chance of a quick escape to our car. 'Yup, this is it! The last freakin' straw; oh hell no, not this! Enough shit already, it's time for "Betty Bad Ass" to shine!'
"Why don't you ball-less mother-fuckers leave us alone!" Tears blind me as I rage out at them.
"Meghan Elizabeth Galloway! Don't you dare use that language!" Mom's more pissed at me, the sewer mouth, than them, the parasitic press. Fat chance of getting forgiven for my mouth now that it's a matter of public record that Miss Manners I am not. Mom can seriously hold a grudge for a while, and this one ought to be a whopper. Oh well, life's a bitch...
Dad shoves a cameraman out of our way, guiding Mom and me through the crowd of reporters heading towards the hospital's parking garage. As he does, he tells them, "I don't have anything to say right now and I'd appreciate if you folks would please give my family some privacy." When they don't let up, he continues, "We are very stressed and really can't handle anything more right now, so please folks, respect this request, okay? Please give us some space!" Some of them are still shouting questions at us as we walk away; talk about people-skills impaired.
Dad leans into me and softly whispers, "I'm proud of you, Megs, but you and I both know that your mom would shoot me if I told them off the way you just did. Plus, that mouth of yours is still way too nasty and too dangerous." I can't help but start giggling nervously. I can feel him sympathetically squeeze my shoulder and I feel safer. We finally get through the crowd and lose the reporters. As we walk along, I scroll through my cell's messages.
It looks like I've got a bunch of texts and a couple of voice-mails, mainly from my friends and some of Max's friends and classmates who know both of us. I figure I'll go online and update my Facebook and MySpace pages when we get home. I really don't feel like talking, twittering or texting anybody right now. 'Oh, and forget IMs,' I tell myself as we reach the car. 'No way, no freakin' way. No instant messages, period. I can't even think straight right now.'
Dad rips down the ramp and then exits the garage, turning south onto Wisconsin Avenue and stopping at the light. I look out the back window. 'Cool, no parasitic-paparazzi-press losers chasing us.'
He looks over at us. "Where do you girls wanna eat?" I look up and see that Mom's zoning and obviously couldn't give a rat's - uh, I think I'll clean my act up a little here - butt where we ate.
"Dad, how 'bout Booeymonger's over on East-West Highway, by the Bethesda Metro station?"
"Sounds good. You okay with that, Jo?"
Mom nods at him and continues to stare out the windshield. I am starting to feel really shitty - oops, crappy - again right now. 'This freakin' situation is out of control.' My cell starts to vibrate, letting me know that the world wants in. 'Sorry world, not now.' I can't deal with anything at the moment.
Dad pulls up in front of Booeymonger's and lets Mom and me get out before he goes to find a parking spot. When he catches up, we're already in a booth by the window, looking out at the people walking by and the rush-hour traffic on the busy street.
Mom is still looking spacey, which is starting to scare me a little. Dad notices and flashes me his trademark 'everything's gonna be good' grin. I sure as hell hope it will, too. It's so weird sitting across the table from my parents without Max next to me. I feel like a part of us is missing. I look around the other tables and notice that none of my friends are around, even though this place is a major hang-out for our high school. Oddly, there are none of Max's friends, either. That's weird, too, because usually if you want to find one of them, they're always here. Plus, there's a super-fast free WiFi connection you can access - and yeah, after getting tons of texts, I had figured somebody would be here. Suddenly, I feel very alone.
I scope out the menu and decide that I'll order one of Max's favorites: a Booey Chicken Wrap in a Spinach Tortilla, crispy potato wedges, an Arizona Green Tea and a cheesecake brownie, just because. 'Yeah, I think so,' I tell myself. 'Why the hell not? I'm starving.'
A waitress comes over and Dad orders The Georgetowner and coffee - of course - and Mom finally slips out of her stupor and asks for the Pita Pan and an Iced Café Mocha. Yup, those are my parents, the caffeine addicts. I give her my order and she takes off. She comes back with our drinks pretty quickly.
Gee, this bites. Dad's now avoiding looking at me, kinda staring away at who knows what, and Mom's back into her personal twilight zone. 'Damn, I need to talk about this, guys. I need to know why! Why the hell did that person shoot Max?' I miss my big brother - oh crap, now I'm crying again. Dad reaches over the table and takes my hand, gently squeezing it.
"Megs, I know you're really having a tough time with all of this; so are we. But we'll pull through this, honey. It's what Max would want, and I think you know that better than your mom or I do. Okay?"
Mom's hand joins Dad's on top of mine and she gives me a teary-eyed grin. I've gotta say it, I really love them a lot."Thanks guys, I just can't understand why... "
"There's never a reason that makes sense, sweetie. Never." Dad looks at Mom and she nods.
The waitress comes over with a tray and serves us our food. There's not much else to say, I guess, so we eat our meal in silence.
I'm the one spacing out now as we drive back up Wisconsin Avenue towards the hospital. I guess... I dunno... I can't stop thinking about what's happening to Max and as I stare out the window, I decide that I can't go back there and see him like that. I need a break.
"Dad? Mom? Can we go home... um, ah, can I go home, please? I don't feel like going back there right now."
Dad looks at me in the rearview mirror. "You sure, Megs?"
"Yeah Dad, I'm sure. I just need some time to absorb all of this."
My Mom turns around in her seat and faces him. "Troy? That may not be such a bad idea. I mean, it's not like Max is going to be awake at any point soon. Remember what the Doctor told us? And... and it's been a terribly long, horrible day, too. I need to rest. I'm beat." Her voice cracks. "I'm not sure that I can stay up much longer."My Dad nods. "Okay girls, let's go home then." He signals a left turn and we turn onto St. Elmo Avenue, cutting through to Old Georgetown Road and the way to our house.
I cannot believe it! Those loser parasites are camped out in front of our house! 'Shit!' Dad looks really pissed and Mom's mouth starts twitching."Meghan? Not a word out of you, young lady!" Mom tells me with that 'You'd better not defy me' look on her face.Dad starts to chuckle. "Joanne, we'll just pull into the garage. That way, neither of you'll have to deal with them."He reaches up and clicks the garage door opener that's clipped to the sun-visor. We pull into the driveway and we're practically blinded by the bright TV lights mounted on their cameras which are aimed at our car. Dad pulls past Mom's Subaru Forester into the garage and the door closes behind us.
I bolt out of the car and head into the kitchen, where I'm surrounded by our two dogs yelping, their tails wagging, and happy to see us. Suddenly, my brother not being here really hits me hard. I sink to the floor and pass out.
To learn more about what your help can accomplish to continue the work to share the dream of replacing the hate in the world with understanding, compassion, and acceptance please visit MatthewShepard.org
To help people working for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender Equal Rights please visit HRC.org
Creative Commons Copyright License 2009 * U.S. & Canada
Permission is openly granted to copy and distribute this story as long as no changes are made, no derivatives are made, and the author receives mention & credit.
Excerpt from Harvey Milk's "That's What America Is" speech, given on Gay Freedom Day, June 25, 1978 in San Francisco, California used by permission by the estate of Harvey Milk.
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