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“Seb, I’m so sorry. Did you hear? They’re delivering the baby. I’m sorry about Anna-Beth,” Reuben says beside me. I shift my eyes to meet his. Tears are sliding down his face. I shut mine for a moment and nod. I clench them tightly, attempting to soothe the burning sensation but only causing my own tears to form and drop like raindrops down my cheeks.
“So, you’re telling me there’s no chance my wife is going to wake up again?” It’s as though my chest is tearing open with each word spoken. The raw pain is unfathomable and unfixable—an open wound that has no timeframe for healing.
The doctor hangs his head then glances up. The grim expression etched into his face is one I don’t think I’ll ever erase from my mind. I’ll remember him always—he’s given me the worst news of my life. “No, she won’t, but we have a plan to save the baby. Our obstetrician is with your wife right now, and the baby will be here any moment, and then if you like, you can see your wife. Is your wife an organ donor, Mr. King?”
The baby is okay, but my wife isn’t.
My beautiful Anna-Beth, the most kindhearted woman in my life… is gone. She was my number-one supporter, biggest fan and always helped me in my career, took wonderful care of our little girl, and was growing another to add to our crew.
The wound in my chest opens more. My hand clutches at my shirt as my legs grow weak. My breaths are short, and with each one, it becomes harder to breathe. The world around me keeps moving—nurses, family, people entering and leaving the hospital—but I can’t take my girl home. My legs buckle beneath me. The mere thought of seeing her in that state frightens me, but I do want to see her one last time.
Reuben’s grip around my arms tightens as he lowers me into the seat I’d just been sitting in before the woman collapsed in front of me. “I got you, man.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but we need an answer on the organ donation as we will need to organize UNOS and sometimes, in these cases, organs will only be viable for a limited amount of time,” the doctor urges me again. I know he’s trying to be supportive but punching him would feel good right about now. That’s my wife he’s talking about wanting to cut up.
“Just give him a minute to process things.” I hear Reuben say as I lose myself in my thoughts once again.
Anna-Beth and I had quite a few conversations about death. As a Formula One race car driver, I’ve always been aware of my mortality. We spoke about what would occur if something happened to me, and I was non-responsive, and I told her to give away my organs. Her response was a kiss on the lips, and she’d said,“As hard as it would be for me to let any part of you go to a stranger, I know they’d need it more. So, if something ever happens to me, give my organs as well.”
“Um… yes, she’s a donor and I’d really like to see her,” I pause and then say, “Will…will she be attached to machines?”
The doctor places his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “Yes, she will until we’re prepared for the procedure and other hospitals will be informed by UNOS. I’m truly sorry for your loss, Mr. King. I’ll be back shortly, and I’ll have some paperwork for you to fill out, then you can go to your daughter, and we’ll bring your baby to you when it’s born. We’ll give you some time and then come get you after we’re done for you to see your wife. Again, I’m truly sorry for your loss.”
I can’t look up at him again—his face only brings pain. He’s the bearer of bad news, but it’s not his fault. I should’ve been with her. Instead, I was at a training session, trying to get more time on the simulator. This year was supposed to be my world championship year. This was it, and now it’s all vanished—the love of my life, my rock, is no longer here.
Guilt claws at my insides. She’d wanted me to spend the day with Rylee and her before the baby came in three weeks. And now… she’s gone, and I can’t take back the words I said to her. We’d had a stupid little fight—that was the last conversation we’d had. I didn’t mean to lose my cool, but she always understood that the world championship was my goal, even before we were married. And now Rylee is four years old, and things changed again. Still, Anna-Beth supported me, a wave of nausea rolls through me.
The nurse comes back with a clipboard full of paperwork. “Where’s my daughter? Rylee King?” I ask her.
“She’s down the hall in room eight. Her grandmother is with her. Please complete these forms and then you can go to her.”
“Grandmother?” I ask, my brows furrow.I didn’t ring Mom.
“I rang her before we left the track and told her to come,” Reuben says as though he’s read my mind.
“I rub my forehead. “Oh… right. Thank you.” I’m glad we added her as an emergency contact, or they wouldn’t have let her through.
The nurse hands the folder to me, and the urge to run down the hall to Rylee surges through me.She’s with Mom, I remind myself and attempt to settle the thumping in my chest. I take a moment to do the paperwork. Reuben takes it back to the counter and then returns to my side. I need to see Rylee.
“She’s okay,” Reuben assures me as if reading my mind. “They’ve checked her over, and she’s got some bumps and bruises. Let’s go see her.” I nod.
I need to see my daughter.
To hold her.
Reuben helps me up and throws his arm over my shoulders, leading me down the hall. People walk by us, their lives not turned upside down like mine is now. I’m sure they have their own issues going on, but the loss of Anna-Beth will be hard to heal from—if one can heal from it. I don’t think I’ll ever recover.
We stop in front of a closed cream-colored door with an eight lit up above it. Reuben gives me a reassuring glance before releasing me and pushing it open. I step into the sterile-smelling room and stop when I see my little girl lying on the bed, her grandmother, my mom, with her. Mom’s holding Rylee’s tiny hand in her big, comforting one. My mom glances up as we enter, and her eyes fill with tears when she sees my face.
“Gran, what’s wrong?” Rylee’s sweet voice is a knife into my heart and a massive relief at the same time. Thank goodness she’s okay, but how do I even begin to tell her about her mom?
Rylee rolls over in the bed and faces me. A little red bump on her head stands out. “Daddy!” Her outstretched arms wait for me, and I rush into them. I clutch her against my chest as waves of hurt, love, and strength crash into me.
“Oh, baby, how are you feeling?” I say into her hair as I inhale the familiar lavender shampoo scent—the same one Anna-Beth uses. My eyes sting with tears, and I can’t stop them. I hold Rylee tighter, lifting and placing her in my lap, sitting on the bed. Small sobs fill the room, and I realize they’re coming from me.
“Daddy? What’s wrong?” Rylee pulls back and stares at me. Her little hand comes up and wipes away the wetness on my cheeks. “Why you sad?”
I take in a deep breath. This is a conversation I never wanted to have with one of my kids.
