Remy walks over and supports Mom’s head with her hands.
“It’s okay,” Adam says to Mom.
Her breathing gets louder.
“I’m here,” he says.
He’s a good one. He’s a good one he’s a good one I knew he’d be a good one he’s a good one.
Her body jolts forward.
“No,” says Adam. “I have you.”
There’s a Mom breath so deep that her chest expands into his chest. He feels the connection, the beating, the whatever it is inside them that makes them what they are. Two of the doctors nod and unhook wires.
“Call it,” says a doctor snapping off his gloves. “What’s everyone doing for lunch?”
“11:11 on her.”
“I could eat.”
Remy points to her feet.
Red slush. It flows from Mom’s back and oozes off the edges of the table and drips warm on Remy’s feet. She’s never seen a color so bright. The twin horses appear in the center of the room and tell her it’s time to go and she opens her eyes for the last time against Adam’s chest and her mouth falls open. Hundred the dog howls from the sidewalk surrounded by cops looking at the sky. Remy taps Adam on his shoulder, who is connected to Mom because he still holds her, he can’t let go, and they are connected to Dad who stands on the other side of the bed squeezing Mom’s hand and it’s true, the sun is here.