the loving-5

numb.

there is the doctor in his fresh white coat and striped tie. he is a athletic man, hair streaked silver and black rimmed glasses sitting on a gaunt elegant face. there is a buzzing in my ears as he speaks, i can not hear. i will not be allowed to hear the verdict. there is a belief that what you don't know can't hurt you. she is not what they say if i can not hear them say it. she does not have what they want me to hear if i am deaf to it. there is hope in the innocence of belief. there is hope in the naive.

i watch my daughter's eyes as they leak. i watch as she squeezes her mother's hand. i watch as she crumbles. she the tower of faith, our touchstone destroyed there is only me. there is only this deaf old man legs lazily crossed watching their lips move and refusing their prophecy.

i chose my lucky green shirt. this is the shirt i wore to all my children's births. this is the shirt that i wore whenever danger lurked. this is the shirt, on the day the boss called us in to inform us of lay off or keep on. it is beyond ironing, it rides up my arm when i extend my hand, three buttons are loose and one is gone. i sit below the clock stretching my left arm behind my wife and believing in miracles.

there is the slow heavy drop tic of the minute hand, there is the scribble of the doctor's hand and there is the acceptance. my daughter, my hannah, our love and our hope causes my heart to break when she takes it in. hannah the one who invited the devil to stay. who believed and made it true.

somewhere in the yard under the watchful eye of our cleaning lady is our granddaughter. addision somewhere bathed in light spinning slow ovals arms extended scraping petals off fresh spring bloom. somewhere healthy watching her grandma's birds and keeping track of their flight.

here there is debra. she is cigar store indian stiff. she is not paying particular attention. she is under attack and her defenses are down. i rub her shoulder, nothing. i watch hannah grasp her flat palmed hand and squeeze it white, nothing. i see the doctor with his pen light and finger before her eyes, nothing. somebody left the lights on before heading out for the night. somebody trying to keep the burglars away.

no use. no use. no use.

there are nurses and more time. there she goes beyond the door, there she goes down the hall hannah at her side. there she goes, and i am tired. i am beyond tired i look down and notice another button gone before i close my eyes.