based on a true story

She was lying there, still an almost peaceful. If it weren’t for the tubes running every direction, from her arm and her head, I would have thought she was okay. I sat by her and watched the day light sail slowly across the wall, then finally disappear in a brilliant display of reds and oranges.

I met Lan for the first time in a high school art class; she sat directly across from me. At first, I didn’t really pay attention to her. She was any other girl. Her hair was cut shoulder length and trimmed perfectly to frame her face. Whenever she smiled her eyes would squint and the bridge of her nose would crinkle. She never or rarely ever wore makeup, but she didn’t need it. Her complexion was like silk and milk. Although she was short compared to me, she was average height for a Vietnamese girl.
One Friday I casually asked her, “You got big plans this weekend, maybe get smashed upped with some guy or hang out after hours at the bar?” I was only messing around because I knew she wasn’t that type of girl. I expected to get an answer in the affect of, “No, I don’t drink or no, my parents would kill me.” Instead she said something I never expected to hear and, at the time, didn’t make any sense to me whatsoever.
“I’m a virgin, and I am waiting until I get married, if I ever get married.” Who the heck and what the heck was she talking about. Her eyes sparkled with a tinge of annoyance. I expected her to bust out laughing, but her nose never crinkled and her eyes never shifted. Holy cow, she was for real.

One day during art class she came over and sat next to me. I immediately grabbed her hand, turned it palm up and, using a black ballpoint pen, I began to draw a rose on her wrist. What started out as a single flower, blossomed into a batch of roses. The vines were interwoven to spell out “Love is…” I didn’t plan it to come out that way, it just did. She stared down at her wrist and when she looked up her lips parted to reveal a smile. Now that I think of it, it felt like she used her eyes as some sort of laser, penetrating deep into my soul; I felt uncomfortable. She didn't say a word, all she did was give me that mad dog, 20/20 stare down thingy. I didn't know what I felt inside or if I would ever be able to explain it to anyone. For the first time, I couldn't look at her without feeling like I had to puke.

When the silence became uncomfortable, she looked at me and said, “Paul,” her eyes lit up and she tilted her head oh-so slightly, “Paul, come on, love is…” her nose twitched. “Paul’s letter to the Corinthians."
I raised an eyebrow and thought I was going to lose my lunch.

“You mean you drew that without even knowing where ‘love is…’ came from?” She did that head tilt thing again, that thing that girls do when they want to get a guys attention, although it seems unintentional. But thank goodness she didn’t toss back her hair or start playing with it or I would have turned to puddy-poo.

“Of course I know where it comes from, ya goof.” I said a little too soon.

She saw right through me, as romantic as I tried to pretend to be she knew I wasn’t being all too honest. Lan began to explain, "It's from the Bible. 1 Corinthians chapter 13 verse 4: Love is patient and kind; it is not jealous…" she continued on.

I was speechless. She had caught me off guard. I probably heard it in passing and, most likely, it had soaked into my head. Whoever this Paul guy was, I bet he got all the chicks.

“So I take it, you spend your spare time memorizing quotes from the bible?”

“No, not really.” She began then hesitated, “I think you just got to live your life with a certain standard, that’s all. God first, of course.”

“Oh.” I stared at her and that pukie feeling was brimming over. But as hard as I tried, I couldn’t look away.

She raised her chin and gracefully said, “What, don’t look at me like I’m weird.” Her eyebrows furrowed and for the first time, I realized how beautiful she was.

“No, its not because your weird.” I said.
A couple of weeks later, I finally had enough guts to ask her out. Although, she wasn’t allowed to date yet, she gave me an appointment as soon as she turned eighteen. I kind of screwed up, or I totally and wholly screwed it up during the in between time but, she gave me another shot. I never asked her why she did, because looking back; I don’t think I ever deserved her.

Six months went by, it was a Thursday night, close to the end of the school year and finals were coming up and our high school graduation was in three weeks. Lan and I had been a couple for about three months, although her parents weren’t too keen about it, they had no choice because they had promised their daughter dating privileges when she was old enough to vote. We were at Toan’s house cramming for a biology exam. We ended up talking about what we were going to be doing in the future. Get a good job, get married, have a couple of kids, buy a house down at the beach and live happily ever after. But life, as I have discovered, is never that easy.

Around midnight, we all decided it was enough studying, except for Lan—who thought it would be a better idea to start a game of scrabble or clue or both. No one agreed but she was only pulling for more time to spend with me since it was a rare deal that her parents let her out past midnight even with her new found dating privileges. From my perspective her folks were a little too protective of their 18 year old daughter, but looking back I wish they had been a little more, if only for that night.

I was spending the night at Toan’s house so I didn’t have to worry about commuting the whole two blocks home. As for Lan, she lived across West Lanes—one of the busier streets. Thuy was already waiting outside in her car for Lan. I walked her outside.

“I’ll see you tomorrow and maybe I’ll see you in my dreams.” I said

“Only if it’s a good dream.”

“Yeah, and maybe we’ll be stranded on a deserted island together in my good dream and we can eat coconuts on the beach… and” I said while opening the door for her.

“You and your beaches…” she groaned as her eyes twitched and her nose crinkled.

“Yeah, your one of them.” She quickly slapped me on the arm and we both started laughing.
She looked at me and carefully whispered, “I love you, Thai.”

“I know, I know.” I said.

Toan and I stayed up and talked about guy things. Not too far into the conversation, I caught myself dozing off and attempted to keep my eyelids from shutting down. In the distance I could hear the steady ringing of some emergency vehicle—a cop, an ambulance, a fire truck. I don’t know, they all sound the same to me. The ringing became louder as if it were next to my ear, I jerked and found myself sitting up on the floor. I had fallen asleep sometime during the night and Toan was already snoring. BRRRRRRNG… BRRRRRRNG… It wasn’t a dream at all and it wasn’t Toan snoring either. The phone was ringing. The glowing blue digital clock, that seemed like it came straight from a bad episode of the Twilight Zone, said 1:15 AM. I knew something wasn’t right. In all my years up to that point I knew a few things that usually held true, one of those was the fact late night calls were never pleasant ones. The phone stopped ringing and I expected to hear Toan’s mom or dad wailing because someone in the immediate family had just passed away. Instead, there was a knock at the bedroom door. I stood up to open it. The doorknob felt cold under the damp grasp of my hand like a searing metal rod in a pool of cooling water or an angel burning in hell. I didn’t want to twist the knob, what if that call was for me. I thought I heard the Twilight Zone theme song playing in the background. Doo-doo, Doo-doo, Doo-doo, Doo-doo.

Before I could react, the door cracked open and peeking in was Toan’s mom in sleep attire and all. I felt like saying, “Yes, Mrs. Cleaver.” But I remembered I wasn’t in the midst of suburban-Caucasian-Americans but immigrant-Pacific Islander-Vietnamese. A faint fluorescent light made a dim halo around her head as she stood there with a phone in hand, “the” phone in hand.
Half of her face winced into a convulsion as she tried to grab my arm. I instinctively jerked back to avoid her. I was expecting to hear her tell me to sit down. In all my years up to that point, the second thing I found that held true was the fact that people who tell you to sit down are usually ready to hit you with a sledge hammer. It makes less of a mess if the object being hit is closer to the ground. But to my relief she didn’t ask me to sit down.
I graciously thanked her for giving me the phone as thoughts of who could it be raced through my head. But instead of closing the door and leaving me be, she stood there waiting for something. It made me feel like I was being screened for a leading role in soap opera. I turned my head against the wall and spoke into the phone.

“Yeah.” I said. There was a slight sniffling noise coming through the other end. The voice was faint but I could easily make out whom it was.
“Hey, Thai are you sitting down?” Thuy began. I crossed over to the desk and sat down because it seemed wise to do so. Besides, I was still half asleep and any type of relaxation was fine by me.

“Yeah, what’s the matter? You okay?” I asked. There was a stretch of silence that magnified the slightest noise. A heartbeat, the sound of rushing air, a shuffle of the foot against the carpet, “Thuy, is everything alright?” I hate uncomfortable silence, it kind of felt like a bad date. My grip around the phone tightened as I slid closer to the edge of the chair. The muscles in my leg tensed up, bolting me against the floor.

A wispy voice came through. It was the softest of words but none ever spoke louder, “Lan…” another brief pause, “she’s hurt, Thai. She’s, we were in an accident. And this drunk ran a red light, Thai… He hit us on the side and, and she slammed her head against the window… ” Thuy’s voice melted until all I could hear was her muffled crying.

I couldn’t say anything, I tried to, but I couldn’t. I wanted to tell Thuy it was all right, that everything would be okay. I wanted to comfort her but I found myself choking up. A heat surged from my stomach and through my heart like a fire being coughed up from the Volcano that destroyed Pompeii. I gripped the phone so tight, my knuckles turned white. I didn’t notice it until my hand started tingling and my fingers began to give way.
Finally, I broke the silence. “Is she alright?”

No answer.

“Thuy, is Lan okay?”

More silence.

“Is she okay?”

Silence.

“Thuy… Just tell me is Lan okay.” I already knew the answer but I had to hear it.

“She’s in surgery, she wasn’t conscience… when they pulled her out… I don’t know… I… McKinley General… Thai hurry.” Her voice trailed off like a cool March wind into the horizon.

A drunk driver ran a red light, smashing into the rear driver side of Thuy’s white Honda Civic. The collision caused the car to fish tail against the curb until finally impaling against a light post. The windows were blown out but not before the impact had caused Lan’s head to ricochet against the window. The seen played in my head and every time it ended, I pushed rewind and watched it again and again and again. Each time there was something new, more breaking glass, an extra dent, some more scrapes and cuts. But there was one constant. I would see was her laying there, her hair plastered with blood against her cheeks and her cheeks resting against the door. She would be helplessly unconscious unlike the drunk who would easily slide out of his car because that was the way things worked. A guy downs a bottle and he’s looser then a bowl of Jell-O. He’d contort in fabulous directions like those Chinese acrobats, hence, avoiding injury. But Lan never drank and she scared easily, which would’ve made her tense up. Therefore, she didn’t have a chance like that damn drunk. The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. It felt like a wrench twisting inside my gut but not to quickly. The pain was sharp but also satisfying. I wanted to hurt someone.

Thuy met me in the hospital waiting room. Lan’s parents were already there. They seemed detached and, most likely, were already blaming the situation on me. Both her parents didn’t say a word, let alone even look in my direction. Another shot of anger swept over me. I wanted to yell out, it wasn’t my fault and that I cared for her too.

Across from Lan’s parents was a young boy of about seven entertaining himself with an airplane he had constructed out of torn bits of a Styrofoam cup. His ebony fingers held onto the wings of the mock plane as he moved it up and down like a dive-bomber. He raised his fighter towards me and executed a barrel roll while firing off some rounds in an imaginary dogfight. “bang, bang, bang”, he screamed.

A black woman of about 50 sat next to him. Her hair was short and poofy, her cheeks were full and her eyes were magnified behind thick bifocals. If there ever was an advertisement for grandmothers, she’d be the perfect spokeswoman. She looked over to the boy and in a firm but gentle tone, admonished him. “Tyler.” She said, “Tell the young man your sorry. That’s not nice.”
“I’m sowwy.” Tyler mumbled from under his breath.

My eyes were still red but I made an effort to assure him it was alright, “Don’t worry about it, it’s okay.”

Abruptly he turned to the old woman, “He say its okay, Nanna.” Tyler said.

“But, Tyler, what did I teach about older people?” she continued.

Tyler quickly responded, “Respect your elders.”

“And who is that young man right there, Tyler?” She demanded grimly.

Tyler had erected himself in the chair, his hands folded neatly around his Styrofoam plane that he tried to shoot me down with, “He’s my elder!”

I couldn’t help from laughing. Here was a seven-year-old boy calling me his elder when back then, I was only eighteen. Tyler’s head turned towards me, his eyes stared deep into mine.
“Why are you laughing?” he inquired.

“Sometimes people laugh because they need to laugh, it makes them feel better, Tyler. I don’t feel too good right now.” I told him.

“You have a stomach ache?”

“No, I don’t have a stomach ache; someone I care about is hurt really bad.”

Tyler’s eye’s squinted in concern, “Are they going to die?”
A look of shock came over Nanna’s face; I nodded to her to tell her it was okay.

“I don’t know. But I hope not.”

“My mommy was hurt bad too, that’s what Nanna tells me. God took her away because Nanna says God wanted my mommy to be an angel.”

I looked into his deep brown eyes, confirming Nanna, “Angels are beautiful, and I bet your mom’s the most beautiful angel ever.”

Tyler smiled.
“It’s been four years,” Nanna slowly added, “and there doesn’t go a day where I don’t miss Janice, his mother. She was my only daughter. Lord knows why he took her. A mother isn’t supposed to outlive her child. But he has his reasons, I don’t know what they are but I do know this. If things were meant to be, then they were meant to be. The Good Lord has his reasons. He gives and he takes away, we can’t change that. Either we can accept it or we don’t. Its been a struggle for me to let go of the pain. It felt like weight—dead weight on my shoulders, especially forgiving the person that took my daughter away. Some things we can’t change, those are the things we should let go of. For me, I had to learn to forgive. If I held onto that anger, it would’ve eaten me up slowly. It wasn’t just for me that I had to let go, but for Tyler. I see Janice in Tyler and a part of her lives on in him. I have that to be thankful for.”

“If someone you cared about died because someone was being careless… how could you forgive that person?” I leaned forward in the chair and cupped the back of my neck with my hands, “What happens if she does die? And for what, because some guy had too much to drink and decided to drive.”

I stood up with the intention of ending the conversation before I could get anymore emotional. Emotions were supposed to be kept under a lid like those salted limes my dad used to make drinks with. It was an awkward situation. I felt like someone had walked in on me when I was about to change into some fresh underwear, women’s underwear. And if it weren’t for Tyler blocking my path, I think I would have run out crying. He had dismantled his plane and splayed the parts helter-skelter before a little coffee table where upon lay an out of date copy of Vogue and some back issues of Time. My steps were feeble and I made a concerted effort not to interrupt him, but before I could take another step, Tyler squealed like a beagle caught in a mousetrap. The high-pitched sound resonated down the hall and caused the nurse to look up from her desk. I gaped down at him and he was about to burst into tears.

“Don’t move, or you’ll squish the pilot.” He anxiously pleaded.
I followed his eyes down to my right foot and saw it was covering the head of some man Tyler had torn from one of the magazines. I tactfully removed my foot and, to my amazement, it was none other then Prince Charles, the tip of his ear had a shoe print on it.

“I’m sorry Tyler, I think he’ll be fine.” I bent down and picked up the poor prince, if his ears weren’t so uniquely huge, I think I could have avoided the whole matter. It reminded me of babysitting my nephew. Kids have a way about giving you a doe-eyed look just to get what they want. I brushed off the dust and handed Charles back to Tyler assuring him, “Your pilot is going to be okay.”
“I think you killed him.” Tyler groaned.

I step back to reassess the situation, “No he’ll make it through, look he’s already coming back.”

“Nope, he’s dead.” Tyler was sure of it, I would have administered CPR to the crown prince but opted against it since Tyler saw no hope. Instead I picked up Time and flipped through the worn pages. I scanned for someone else to replace Charles and came across an article, which featured President Clinton. I thought it would be okay just as long as his ears didn’t take up half the page.

I tore out old Bill and handed him to Tyler who, by now, was staring intently at my every action like so many kids his age do when they start to become wise to the world around them. I didn’t want to stigmatize the boy, so I neatly folded up Charles and reverently placed him in my back seat pocket.

“Hey, Tyler,” I began, “you know, that guy that you had flying your plane before doesn’t make a good pilot. You see, his ears were too big and that would keep him from flying straight.”

His jaw slacked; Tyler was in awe before my supreme knowledge, “Weally?”

“You don’t see birds with big ears, do you? Well, that’s the same way with pilots. Now, you see this guy?” I pointed to El Presidante Clinton, “He doesn’t have big ears. Instead he is equipped with the latest high tech equipment in radar, I mean just check out how big his nose is. Just like the front of a 747.”
To my relief, a grin stretched across his face.

“So,” I asked, “are we still buddies?”

“Yeah, its okay if you stepped on the guy with big ears. The guy with the big nose is okay to fly. I know you didn’t mean it. I forgive you.”

Satisfied, I shook his hand just to make it official. The room began to get stuffy; I needed some air.

Slivers of sunlight penetrated the sliding glass doors washing the room in a pale maroon hue that mingled with the cold Hospital fluorescents. The entrance was covered with an intricate portico, supported by arched brick columns along a cul de sac. Brisk morning winds caused me to unconciously place my hands in my pocket. I remembered Prince Charles was still inside so I fished him out. I was about to toss him into the wastebasket when I noticed an ad on the back. Roses were placed here and there. I didn’t see the whole picture, but it was enough for me to make it out as an ad for women’s perfume. Immediately I thought about Lan. I went back inside and watched the clock hands move from six to seven to eight.
Thuy was leaning on my shoulder when the hospital chaplain entered the waiting area. His demeanor reflected one of utter professionalism, but one who also needed sleep. Ever so lightly he crossed over to Lan’s parents. From across the room I couldn’t hear what they were saying but when Lan’s mom collapsed, I knew it wasn’t good. The chaplain introduced, whom I presumed, to be the surgeon. They exchanged words and signs of sympathy like a well-directed screenplay. Strange, how in times of trouble and sorrows we are willing to look to others for encouragement, even if the person is a total stranger. I guess it’s an affirmation that, hey, we all sail on the same boat. Both her parents stood up to follow the chaplain.

I got up from my chair and made a move towards the surgeon who was taking a second to refresh himself at the water fountain, “Excuse me, but… I was wondering how Lan Nguyen is doing.” I tried to keep from sounding too stressed but the shakes in my voice betrayed me. The doctor looked me over for a second and I noticed his hesitance, “I’m sorry, I’m Thai and this is Thuy. She was in the accident with Lan.”
“Would you like to sit down?” he inquired.

“No, I’ll be fine.” I reluctantly said.

Carefully, like he was walking through a minefield, he gave me his analysis, “Lan, has sustained a severe blow to the head, coupled with trauma from the accident, which has caused a hematoma or bleeding of the brain.” He looked at me to see if it was okay to go on, I nodded, “When too much pressure builds up against the brain, due to excess fluid, it can cause the heart and lungs from functioning properly. She’s attached to a heart and lung machine… Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”

I understood exactly what he was trying to say. Lan was in a coma and on life support, “Is there anything else you can do for her.”

“We’ve tapped into her skull and inserted a release valve for the swelling. All we can do now is wait.”

I tried to look him straight in the eye but it was a failed attempt, “Is she going to die?”

His answer was blunt, almost to the consistency of a dull knife cutting open an old wound, “The chances are she’s not going to make it. And if she does, she won’t be herself. I’m sorry.”

Thuy had clinched her fingers around my arm, she looked frozen and dumb struck. Her fingernails dug into my skin and one of them drew blood, but I didn’t mind. Actually I didn’t care about anything at all at that moment and it seemed Thuy was on consensus. Her gripped finally loosened as the reality of things began to take root. She leaned her head against my chest. I placed a hand on the small of her back to draw her near. I needed someone to cry with as much, or even more, than she did.
By the end of the next day, Lan was removed from the ICU and transferred to a room on the third floor. From the window, you could see the corner of Walnut and that meant the old Peoria warehouse wasn’t too far off. It was a place where couples would come to make out. Kind of like an old time drive in minus the drive in. Me and Lan had driven to the warehouse once before, but that was only because all our friends were to meet there after a party. We hadn’t even made it past the gate when Lan told me she didn’t want to go through with it. And so, that was that. I took her home. I wondered if any happy couples were there now.

The new room was white washed with your basic hospital room aura. Sure enough, the life support machine was hooked up and running at a rhythmic pace. A nurse was standing by with a clip jotting down Lan’s vitals and checking if all systems were go, when she left, I knelt down beside Lan. Her head was tiltied up and to support a tube running from her mouth, I tried to look for the release valve they had inserted in her skull but that was pointless. Half her head was bandaged up. Even so, I could still recognize her. For the moment all I could do was hold her hand. In the back of my mind I thought she would hear me maybe wake up but it was all wishful thinking. A few hours before I was sure about many things, but now looking at Lan I understood the fragility of life itself. I ran my index against the cold vein of her arm while an I.V. hung listless against a steady backdrop of mechanical beeps. The air began to get heavy. I leaned my face against her arm and cried.

We were suppose to graduate together in three weeks and we were planning on attending the same college but now, I wasn’t even sure I could carry on. It wasn’t fair she had to go like this. She was beautiful and smart and caring and she never did anything to hurt anyone else. Then why did this happen to her? Why did a God that was suppose to be good, a God that she loves take her away when she was so young? I never really thought I’d be questioning God but I never thought I’d actually have any real emotions towards him either. I felt betrayed. I basically felt God hated me and I hated him back.

There was a light tap on my shoulder, I turned expecting to find Thuy but it was Lan’s mom. She was standing there with a blank look on her face, I waited for her to tell me to get out, but instead, she knelt down to where I was and put her arms around me.

We held on to each other for a couple of minutes, then I finally broke in, “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… it wasn’t supposed to be like this… I’m sorry…” I said over and over. I craned my neck up to see Lan but I couldn’t see through my tears.

“Don’t be it’s not your fault.” She wiped her eyes and continued, “Lan loves you, you know that. And I know that she would have never done anything to hurt us. You know Thai, sometimes at night we would stay up and talk… and she talked about you most of the time… She was making you something before the accident; she’d been working on it for a couple weeks now.”

Lan’s mom pulled out a piece of white cloth. I opened it up and saw that it was doily with the words “Love is…” stitched across the front and intricately laced with roses made from little scraps of red velvet. It was lightly scented with her favorite herbal shampoo, I guess she worked on it at night after she took a shower. I ran my fingers across the stitches and wondered how long it took her to make it.

“Love is patient and kind; it is not jealous or conceited or proud; love is not ill-mannered or selfish or irritable; love does not keep a record of wrongs; love is not happy with evil, but is happy with the truth. Love never gives up; and its faith, hope and patience never fail.” 1 Cor 13:4
Sometimes when I dream, I would know I was dreaming because things seemed too off kilter, I was hoping this was one of those times. All I would have to do is force myself to wake up and I’d be lying in bed with no worries. Although things weren’t right, it wasn’t a dream. I had to deal with the reality of not being able to make Lan laugh again because that was the best part of our relationship, I think. I could make her happy. I laced my finger between hers and I placed a kiss on her forehead for the last time. She smiled, so I thought, but her nose never crinkled and she didn’t squint.

I had to let the pain go, if not for my sake then for Lan’s. I held the doily lightly in my right hand and with the other I, once again, traced the words “Love is…”. I had committed the entire verse to memory immediately after that day I drew the roses on Lan’s wrist and now it kept on echoing.
My worst realization came to pass when the doctors said she would most likely never come back to conciseness, and with this her parents took her off life support two days later. Part of me passed away that day because Lan was my support in life. She was my best friend and mentor. She’d shown and taught me a pure love, a love that was boundless. It took me a while before I was finally able to break the walls down and let the pain subside. I still questioned God, but soon he began to answer me and my questions gradually became conversations.

You know, its funny how things have a way of going wrong when you think things are going so smooth. Seven years have passed by since Lan passed away, and I'm still tripping up on that path of life. One thing I learned is that you shouldn't let opportunities pass you by, they might be the last and only shot you got. I never thought about it but when I gave my heart to Lan I was willing to die with her too. And I did. Theres a part of me that will never be whole again and its this very reason that keeps me going. I'm never going to quit, thats what I learned from her. Never quit. I'm thankful to God that he made me a part of her life because if it wasn't for her, I would have never known him.

Life is like a box of Cracker Jacks. Sometimes you get a piece that’s smooth and sweet, other times they come bumpy and nutty. But one thing you can count on are the surprises. Who knows, it might take me an eternity for me to love someone else, but then again, “love is eternal”. 1 Cor 13:8