Total Organ Failure

Huxley Hayes sat in the office chair regarding the old man in front of him, and wondered, just for a moment, how many people had decided to kill their mothers in this very room. It was a small office just outside the large automatic doors that swung open and outward like welcoming hands, which Hux thought was ironic considering what was on the other side. Then again, he thought, maybe not so ironic. They also swung closed. The room was small, and windowless, with a cheap single pedestal desk, brown, faded and wobbly, facing the door to the hallway. The kind of desk that every boring high school teacher sat behind, and every cool high school teacher relaxed behind. Above it hung a large, framed photograph of an ancient saguaro cactus, its six arms reaching out and then upward toward the desert sky. Hux sat and watched the old man pouring a cup of suspicious coffee from the electric drip machine in the corner.  

“You’re just gonna go for it, huh?” Hux asked. 

“Go for what?” the old man wondered. 

“What do you mean what? The coffee.”  When they had entered, Hux had noticed a thin layer of film resting on top of it. At the time he had not given it a second thought, but suddenly it seemed worthy of mentioning. “You’re not at all concerned about the health risks?”  

The old man considered this for a moment and then shrugged. “I can’t see the advantage in that. Besides, it's been a long day.” 

The old man turned, made his way over to the chair next to Hux, and flopped down letting out a purposeful grunt in the process. He was tall, with unruly white hair that stuck up and out, as though each lock was trying desperately to avoid touching the others. His jeans were faded and dingy, and though there weren’t any holes yet, there were patches worn so thin that holes were certainly inevitable, and soon. His shirt, once white, had darkened into a dull gray, and stains peppered the front, giving Hux the distinct impression that the shirt had seen some shit. His face, once handsome, was now angular and unpleasantly thin, with lines like canyons set deep around his mouth and brow, as the crow’s feet clung like anguished hands to the edge of his eyes. Clean shaven when he had arrived, he was now starting to shadow, as the first whiskers breached the surface of his skin.  

“You sure you don’t want some?” the old man asked as he pursed his lips and blew over the cup. 

“I don’t drink coffee. And I sure as hell don't drink moldy coffee.” Hux said. “Anyway, it gives me palpitations and makes me shake.”  

The old man smiled, “That’s the best part.” he said and took a sip, making a slurping sound and dribbling a few drops onto the front of his shirt. Hux stared at him and shook his head disapprovingly.  

“What?” the old man asked. 

“Nothing.” Hux replied. 

They sat without speaking for a few minutes, Hux leaning forward with his elbows resting on his thighs, the old man leaning back, noisily slurping his coffee. Hux had been wearing his sunglasses since he’d arrived late last night. His eyes had become red and irritated and had been filled with tears since then. Just enough to be noticeable, he assumed, but not enough to actually fall down his cheeks. He had opted to keep his shades on to hide this fact, rather than deal with the possibility that someone might ask if he was ok. But so far, no one had. So, just to be safe, he had decided to keep wearing them, and if anybody asked, he would tell them that the bright and buzzing fluorescent lights were giving him a headache, and the glasses offered mild alleviation, which was partially true anyway. The truth was, he did have a headache, and though the lights were not helping, they certainly weren't the catalyst. No, the cause of his headache was sitting next to him. The obstreperous old man sucking down thick black gulps of questionable java, who had yet to explain or justify his presence. Hux stared at the ancient saguaro in the picture and contemplated the vagaries of old men.  

Finally the old man spoke. 

“So. Which way are you leaning?” he asked.  

The casual tone in his father’s voice made his stomach turn.  

“Christ old man. I’m not buying a new car.” he replied, putting his face into the palms of his hands. “Can you try to act-” His voice trailed off, and he shook his head. 

“Act how?" The old man tilted his head like a puppy trying to understand commands.  

"I don’t know. Act human maybe?” 

“What’d I do?”  

“Nevermind.  You didn’t do anything.” 

“I’m just wondering what you’re thinking is all.” 

“I know. Forget it.”  

“I didn’t mean to-” 

“I said forget it,” Hux chimed in, interrupting. His voice was soft but curt. 

--------- 

The doctor had led Hux and the old man through the opening and closing hands of the ICU doors. A short walk down the hallway, the doctor had stopped, unlocked a door, and motioned for them to go inside. The room was dark until the doctor flipped a switch on the wall. The lights seemed to struggle at first, strobing on and off for a few seconds before finally resting steadily, but harshly. He sat down at the desk on the back wall and waived his hands toward the chairs in front of him, inviting the two men to sit. They did. The doctor looked at Hux and spoke softly, but pragmatically and without sentiment. His words seemed to echo through the room as though they were at the precipice of a vast canyon, and not a stale, deadened office. 

Total 

Organ  

Failure 

 Those words bounced around the inside of Hux’s skull, the atmosphere became thicker, stagnant. The air seemed to vacate, and at once, he found himself struggling to breathe. The room had become a vacuum. No one spoke.  

My kingdom for an open window, he thought. 

The old man broke the silence. 

“You’re saying she’s going to die?” he asked. He never had much use for tact.  

“Yes. That is what I am saying.” the doctor replied. “How, is the question you need to ask yourselves.” 

“I’m not following,” the old man said, though Hux supposed this was a lie. He knew exactly what the doctor meant, he just needed it to be said out loud. And, for the first time since his father had shown up at the hospital, hours earlier, Hux felt a sense of gratitude. Not much, but it was there. Maybe because he needed to hear it too. 

“If we let her wake up on her own, which we can certainly do,” he said, throwing his hands up, palms out like a crossing guard. “then you need to know that she will spend the rest of her life connected to those machines. Her kidneys, her liver, her lungs, are all gone. She will never get better.” Shaking his head, he said, “She won't. She will be in pain. We can alleviate that pain, but it will only take us so far.  

“Jesus.” said the old man. 

“Or?” Hux asked, though he didn’t need an answer. 

“Or,” the doctor continued. “We just let her...slip away.” He waived his hand in a slow arcing motion. “It will be peaceful. It will be painless. But make no mistake, what you see in that room now is as good as this is going to get. I am sorry.”  

With that, he stood up, straightening his shirt with a few downward tugs, and then offered his hand to both Hux and the old man.  

“Feel free to stay in my office and talk it over for as long as you need to.” he said. “I know this isn’t easy. We have counselors on premises if either of you need to talk to someone.” 

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Hux said. “Thank you.” 

“I can’t see the advantage in that.” said the old man.  

The doctor slipped out of the door and closed it behind him, leaving Hux and the old man alone. Hux adjusted his sunglasses, making sure they were providing adequate coverage, and looked toward the old man. He was ambling over to the coffee maker. 

------ 

“You never told me what you’re doing here, Dad”  

Hux had stood up and was now pacing, back and forth in front of the ancient saguaro.  

The old man chuckled.  

“Offering my services in a time of crisis.” He replied, crossing his arm in front of himself and bowing from a sitting position in the chair. 

“Not funny. Not now,” Hux said, scowling. “I’m not kidding. What are you doing here? I haven't seen you in seven years, maybe eight. My mother probably hasn’t seen you in decades, and yet here you are.” 

“You can just say ‘mom.’ You don’t have to say ‘my mother’ like I don’t know who you're talking about. I know whose mother she is.” 

“That would imply that we are a family, and I don’t think we’ve reached that level of intimacy. Answer the question.” 

Hux had stopped pacing and was staring intensely at the old man in the chair.  

“Alright alright. Truth is,” he started, “I’m on your mom’s emergency contact list. They called me, I came running, and here we are. Simple as that.” 

“Bullshit. You’re lying.” 

“I never lie. I can’t see the advantage in it.” 

“She never would have put you on that list. She hated you.” 

The old man blew raspberries. “Pfft. It’s possible she had a mild aversion. Maybe even disapproval. But not hate.” 

"I’m not so sure about that,” Hux said sarcastically. 

“You don’t have to be sure. I can be sure enough for the both of us. Anyway, she wanted me here, for whatever reason. Here I am.” 

“Bullshit.” he repeated. 

“It’s some kind of shit, I’ll give you that.” he said.  

The old man rose form his chair with a grunt and threw his arms up in the air, stretching. A strained moaning sound, raspy with static, emanated from his throat.  

“Aint nothin’ like a good stretch.” he said. “Better than sno-cones in hell. I saw a vending machine down the hall. You want a snack or something?” 

“No. I don’t want any snacks. I want you to answer my question.” said Hux. His voice was rising now. 

“I thought I already answered the question. Let me get you some snacks.”  

“You’re full of shit. I want the truth.” 

“Truth is, I’m not full of anything. That’s why I need snacks. You should eat something too.” 

“Fine! I give up!” Hux yelled and kicked the vinyl base molding on the wall. The sheetrock gave way and caved inward creating a noticeable dent. He leaned on the desk with his arms propping him up, breathing  

“Look kid. I’m telling you the truth.” The old man flopped back down into the chair and sighed. “That’s all I know. I swear on your mother.” 

“Swear on your own” 

The old man stood up and made a crisscross pattern with his finger over his heart. 

“I swear on all mothers” he said, and then turned and opened the door to the hallway. “I’ll be right back”  

“Whatever.” Hux replied, making sure his tone conveyed the appropriate amount of disapproval.   

The old man paused halfway out the door and looked at Hux. 

“Any special requests?” he asked. 

“I told you. I’m not hungry.” 

The old man considered this for a moment and then moved all the way out of the doorway and into the hall. Before the door closed, Hux heard him say “I’ll get you some snacks.” 

 ------ 

When the old man returned, he was cradling a pile of vending machine offerings the likes of which no one had probably ever seen, except, of course, for the person who loaded the thing. He made his way over to the desk and dropped everything on top. Candy and chips splashed out in all directions. A bag of Lays potato chips, and a few Twix bars fell onto the floor. The old man grinned proudly. 

“I didn’t know what you wanted, so I got a little bit of everything. Thank God those things take credit cards. Here.” he said, tossing a bag of Frito’s into Hux’s lap, who was currently sitting in the doctor’s chair, underneath the ancient saguaro. Hux didn't say anything. He barely reacted. 

“C’mon kid. You still cross about that whole emergency contact thing?” He asked. 

“I’m having a little bit of a hard time wrapping my mind around it, yeah.”  

“Imagine how I feel.” the old man said, still grinning. “The mysteries of a woman’s heart.”  

“Don’t pretend you know anything about that old man.” Hux said, tearing open the bag of Frito’s. He had realized that the old man was right. He was hungry. When was the last time I ate, he wondered. Yesterday? The day before? He couldn’t remember. 

“Listen. Stick with me kid.” the old man boasted. “You need any womanly advice, I’m your man.” Two thumbs shot up from his sides and pointed at his chest.  

“With all due respect, you’re a party to a failed marriage, and a perpetrator of fatherly estrangement. I think I’ll pass.” 

“Your loss.” he said, cracking open a Coke and shoving a handful of Skittles into his mouth. “How is Maddie anyway? I haven’t seen her here?” This sounded muffled and restricted through the mound of partially chewed candy. Somehow Hux still understood him.  

“We’ve been divorced for a year. You’d know that if you were around.” 

“No shit?” he mumbled, still trying to gnaw through the Skittle wad in his mouth. “What happened?” 

“I don’t know. You’d have to ask her.” 

“She’s not here. I’m asking you.” 

Hux sighed and dropped his chin down to his chest. “Can you just let it go?” 

“Impossible.” said the old man. “I can’t curb my curiosity like that. I’m not self-actualized. You might as well tell me not to scratch an itch. Sooner or later, we all scratch kid.”  

“She said I wasn’t available. Emotionally, I mean. I was there, but also, I wasn’t. I don’t know. She’s probably right. Anyway, it’s over. I gave her everything. The house, the cars, everything. I didn’t want it. Didn’t even ask for it.” 

“What’d you do that for?” the old man asked, his face had twisted, and his eyes had grown inquisitive. 

“I figured none of it meant anything without her.” 

The old man relaxed his face and nodded.  

“You may not believe this, but I actually understand that.” he said. 

They sat chewing in silence for a few minutes. Hux crushed up the last few Fritos and upturned the bag, pouring the crumbs into his mouth. The old man wadded up the Skittles wrapper and tossed it at the trash pail, on the side of the desk and missed. He didn’t move to pick it up.  

After a while, the old man grinned and said, “You want to know what I think?” 

“What’s that?” Hux asked. 

“I think she figured it out.” he said, still smiling. 

“Figured what out?” 

“She figured out that you’re a Hayes.” he said, chuckling now. “Sooner or later, they all figure it out, kid. There are consequences to falling in love with a Hayes.”  

The old man threw his head back and guffawed.  

Hux glared at the old man. He wasn’t laughing.  

“You would know” Hux said. 

“I guess I would.” 

“I guess my mother would know better than anyone.” 

The old man’s laughter tapered off. He exhaled the few remaining titters, as his smile relaxed and disappeared. 

“Alright. Ok,” he said throwing up his hands as if to surrender.  “Point taken.” 

Hux stood up and swiped the sunglasses from his face. He leaned over the table, his arm propping him up, and shot his finger into the old man’s face. His eyes locked on like missiles. Target acquired.  

“I’m 45 years old and you’ve never taught me a goddamned thing. So, teach me now. What are the consequences exactly, old man?” He was shouting now. 

The old man nodded. “You’re right,” he said.  

“Neglect!?”  

“It was a bad joke.” 

“Abandonment?” 

“I said you’re right.” 

Hux’s face was burning. “You want to talk about consequences, old man?” 

“I can’t see the advantage in that,” he said. 

Hux suddenly stood up straight. He stared at the old man vehemently and felt a sting in his eyes, as they filled with tears. He reached down onto the table and grabbed a package of cupcakes, violently tore off the cellophane, and launched it directly into the old man’s face. The cake broke apart on the old man’s chin, leaving a swath of white cream and chocolate across his mouth. He sat silent and still for a moment, stunned. 

“Is this a joke?” he asked. 

“You're the one telling jokes, remember?” Hux replied, his eyes still locked on to their target.  

“I remember,” said the old man. He grabbed a Twinkie from the desk and unwrapped it. “Here’s another one!”  

He reached across the desk and smashed the cake into Hux’s face, the yellow remnants clung to his nose and cheeks.  Hux, snatched another snack bag randomly from the desk, this time not even bothering to unwrap it, and hurled it through the air. The old man ducked, and the bag exploded on the wall behind him. Barbecue flavored potato chips shot out in every direction. The old man stood upright, grabbed a can of soda, shook it, and pointed it in Hux’s direction. Hux did the same. They stood in stalemate, each man’s finger on the pull tab, pointing a loaded can at the other.  

“You don’t want to do this, kid,” the old man said.  

“You’re right,” said Hux. “But want isn’t the same thing as need.” He pulled the tab and dark soda erupted from the can. The old man pulled his own tab in retaliation. They shook their arms wildly, trying to coat the other as much as possible. Bubbly liquid sprayed across the desk. As the cans ran out of fluid, they began grabbing snacks with abandon, from the desk, and hurling them at each other. Chips, M&Ms, and Skittles slammed into their bodies, bursting outward into the ether. When the snacks ran out, Hux leapt across the desk and swung his arm around the old man’s neck, bending him down and squeezing him into a tight headlock. The old man grabbed the back of Hux’s shirt and pulled helplessly.  

Then there was a knock at the door, and a young man in Nurse’s scrubs entered. Hux and the old man froze. The nurse stared at them in confusion as he pressed his clipboard to his chest. Still bent over, with Hux’s arm around his neck, the old man looked up at the nurse. His hair was dripping with soda, and his face was covered in chocolate cream.  

“Can we help you?” he asked. 

The nurse did not reply. He silently backed out of the room and closed the door as he left. Hux and the old man, stood there, unmoving, still embraced in combat. Then the old man spoke.  

“Truce?” he said. 

"I can’t see the advantage in that,” Hux replied. 

The melee ensued.  

 

------ 

The clock on the wall ticked and ticked and ticked. It read 5:30, but Hux didn’t remember when they had entered the office so he couldn’t be sure how long they’d been there. Hell, there were no windows, and he couldn't even be sure if it was AM or PM. He sat on the floor next to the old man, leaning against the wall opposite the brown, faded desk, which was now covered in broken chips, soaking in pools of bubbly liquid. The walls were splattered with dark soda, and sticky handprints that dragged across the paint like motion blurs in a photograph. The old man’s sleeve had been torn off, giving the shirt a bit of a rock and roll essence. Hux’s collar stretched to his sternum and laid there pathetically. Their faces and clothes were spotted with the detritus of a thousand snacks. They both huffed rapidly, trying to catch their breath. 

“You think we should tell someone about the office?” Hux asked. 

“I can’t see the advantage in that.” his father said and smiled. 

Hux smiled too. 

“It ain’t much of a choice is it, kid?”  

“It never was.” He looked up at the ancient saguaro which, despite the carnage, had remained untouched. “I’m glad you’re here, Dad.” Hux said.  

“Me too, son.” 

The old man placed his arm around Hux’s shoulders and pulled him close.  

“Are you ready?” he asked. 

“In a minute” Hux said. 

He leaned his head into the cradle of the old man’s arm and wept.  

His father held him. 

------ 

“We’re ready Mr. Hayes.” said the nurse. They were standing outside his mother’s room, the last room she would ever take a breath. “Are there any concerns or questions, before we...” He trailed off. Hux guessed that he didn’t know how to complete that sentence, and didn’t blame him. The message was conveyed. 

“How long does it take?” he asked. 

“Difficult to say,” the nurse replied. “Sometimes it’s minutes, sometimes it’s hours. In rare cases, it takes days.” 

“So, you don’t know?” 

“No sir, but I can tell you that when it happens it will happen quick. It’s best to stay close.” 

Hux nodded.  

“Dad?” he said.  

His father smiled. “You go ahead son. I’ll be right here.” 

Hux dragged the back of his hands across his eyes, dipped his chin, and walked into the room. There was a chair next to the hospital bed. He sat down, looking at the twisted body of his mother. She lay on her side, almost fetally. Her head was propped up by a pillow, to keep the hoses and tubes from getting pinched, or falling out completely, and her eyes were showing through tiny slits in her lids. She looked impossibly thin. For a moment, he thought about patients in those hospital TV shows. They were always on their backs, with their arms at their sides, head forward, eyes closed. Somehow that seemed even more disturbing than what he was witnessing now. TV patients looked like vampires. This, he supposed, was far more human. 

He was vaguely aware of movement in the room, over the next few minutes, but he couldn’t be sure what was happening. Maybe, buttons being pushed. Maybe switches turning off or on, maybe actual plugs being pulled. He wasn’t curious. He thought he heard a voice, coming from behind him saying “It’s happening.” 

He took his mother’s hand in his own and looked back toward the open door behind him. His father was gone. He thought about that ancient saguaro in the picture and contemplated the vagaries of old men.  

See you around you old son of a bitch, he thought, as he cradled his mother’s hand, and watched the color drain from her face.