CAT'S POV

Matt's car pulls up in the Linda Vista Hospital's parking lot, startling the engine. Jimmy is alive, that's all we know. We jump out of the car and hurry toward the entrance. Matt just grabs me by the arm and leads the way, and for that I am thankful.

In my mind, I'm sitting in the laundromat with him. The washing machine provides a solid, steady background noise. A young mother is there with her baby. She asks us if we don't have anywhere to go, but we choose to ignore her.

I'm 16 and Jimbo got his FICTION tattoo that day. I went there with him, and I was impressed, since he never even winced. We are cutting printed paper with the scripture "Avenged Sevenfold Demo, 10/07/1999" and folding it, so that it fits into a CD box. "Alright, here goes number forty-seven. How many tapes did you make?" I say, and Jimmy replies, "seventy."

We continue our work in silence. "So, Cat, what do you think about Matt dating DiBenedetto again?" Jimmy asks, and as he looks at me, e almost cuts off his finger. He's always been clumsy, I think.

At the entrance, Matt hands the hospital clerk our IDs and he tells us the way to Jimmy's room. ICU, third floor, sixth door on the right wing. Room number 315. I nod and pretend to understand it is very likely I'm going to see Jimmy for the last time today.

"I don't know," I say to him as I place another CD on the pile, "it's kinda weird, isn't it? He always told me he never saw her that way." I shrug. I don't even know myself if it bugs me or not, I just seek comfort in the fact that it's not going to last very long. At least that's what I think.

"But Cat," Jimmy asks, "you're coming to prom, right? With me." That goof. For a split second, I think he's asking me out. But then again, it's Jimmy. "Of course I am, and we're so going to be a prettier couple," I reply and Jimmy starts singing Barbie Girl by Aqua.

White white white. The room is white. Everything is white. The bed is white, and Jimmy's face is almost as white. His gown is white. His soft hair is spread across the pillow, being the only black contrast.

There are tubes in his mouth and various needles in his veins, one on his wrist, one in each crook of his arm and one even on his neck. Machines around him are beeping and blinking and drawing lines. I find that at this time, he is more machine than human. His eyes are closed and his glasses on his nightstand are crushed.

Somehow, we're in my house. It's December 24th and it's surprisingly cold for HB. Nothing like the Canadian winters, though. I'm wrapping Jimmy's Christmas presents. He always hated doing it himself. Besides, he is a dork and he always cuts himself on the paper or glues his hand onto the present, and yes, that actually happened.

We're debating about donating organs after our death, and while Jimmy says he wants to be cremated and he doesn't care if all his organs are still in his body, I think of it as something horrible. To be placed in a coffin with stitches, without a liver, without a heart? No, absolutely not.

But Jimmy, he'd do it in a heartbeat. "I can't live forever, Cat. But I'm determined to create something that will. And if I get to help someone live who would have died, then why deny that? You don't need them anymore anyway, so what difference does it make if they rot now or twenty years later?"

Maybe this will be an issue today or tomorrow, I think in shock.
And in that moment, I was there again.

So, this is my best friend on his deathbed, I thought as I swallowed down my hot tears. Zack ran into the room, followed by a doctor in white and, after a second, Jimmy's mom and the other guys. Mama Jimbo couldn't stop crying.

"You must be Mr Sanders and Miss Anderson," the doctor said, "I'm Doctor Illington. Your friend Jimmy is in a critical condition. We waited for you."
"What's happening?" Matt asked.
"Listen, Mr Sanders, you have to imagine a heart like one of those newfangled technical devices, an iPod or something. So imagine the iPod plays the songs too fast. What you do is you switch it off and on again and then see what happens."
HOLY FUCK, I think, they want to kill him.

"Sir, all due respect," I heard myself saying, "isn't there any other way?"
"Miss," he said, "Mr Sullivan's heart is bad. If it keeps beating that fast, it's not going to beat for much longer. We're going to stop his heart now, and then we hope when we resuscitate him, it'll beat more regularly."

I swallowed thickly. "So, what if it doesn't? Or if it doesn't start beating again?" I asked, though not sure if I even wanted an answer.
"Then we tried our best, although it's never occurred that a heart didn't come back after a procedure like this," Dr. Illington said with a serious expression, the kind doctors always use when they tell you you're going to need to get a flu shot or something.


MATT'S POV

I wonder if, despite everything we're just going through, she notices how often I look at her, I wondered, but I soon regretted my thoughts. This is about Jimmy, I reminded myself, this is not the time or place to think about how deep in you are.

Cat and I walked over to Jimmy, and it almost brought me to tears hearing her talk to him like he was there, like he was listening. He didn't move an inch, his facial expression didn't change at all, he didn't say a single word. To me, it was so obvious he didn't hear her.

If there was one thing I didn't believe in, then it was miracles. Religion, fate or the thought of an afterlife just didn't do it for me. I was a man of science, of facts, of numbers.

So what happens if you die is you die. All your hormones and endorphins and stuff to make you feel good is released in your body (as well as your urine and feces, just saying), you start to hallucinate and see things that aren't here like dead relatives and friends or yourself from above, and then you die, eyes shut, eternal darkness. No feelings, no pain, no nothing. And then they bury you and honor you with flowers and shit, but it's just not bringing you back.

So yeah, realism is the thing for me. And, so to speak, the chances of Jimmy being aware of his surroundings were slim. "Jimbo, I know you're scared and everything, but I'm here," I heard her say and I fought back the tears.

"Go say hi to my Grampa for me, will you? But don't you dare stay up there for too long, and God help you if you don't come back at all. I need you here. You're my best friend, and I love you, Jimmy."

Despite my state, my heart skipped a beat when I heard her say those three words to Jimmy as if it was nothing. As if I, the one who had good intentions and everything, and who said them and meant them, was nothing.

Dr. Illington prepared all the stuff and machines for the resuscitation and then, after Cat took his hand, pulled a switch, so Jimmy flatlined. The monitor with the heart line just showed a straight line, and a loud alarm went off.

Shit, this is it, I thought and a single tear rolled down my cheek. Brian was sobbing by that time, so I hugged him. I felt my shirt get wet where his head rested. Cat just stroked Jimmy's hand and smiled at his corpse. Does she realize he's practically dead? I thought. But then again, do I?

Three people began the resuscitation procedure while Dr. Illington calmly started talking about how bad Jimmy needed a kidney as soon as his heart was beating normally again. "Is anyone of you willing to donate? We have a quick test," he asked. Jimmy's line was still flat and I could tell the young doctor was getting nervous. I don't think it will be necessary, I thought, and my heart felt like it was burning.

"I'm doing it, I'm so doing it," Cat almost screamed, still holding Jimbo's hand. "Me too," I quickly said, and all the guys nodded. "If it helps," Cat said, "I'd give my right arm for him."

"I'd give my dick for you," Jimmy mumbled. WHAT? It was only then that the machine started beeping again, regularly. It showed the typical heart line. We all cheered.

It was that day that I started believing in faith.

Notes