I got the phone call from Brendan’s mother at one thirty in the morning. I’d just gotten into bed after cleaning up and unpacking from my trip to Chicago and wasn’t sound asleep yet. I spent almost an entire hour lying still in the bed listening to Frankie Beverly and Maze’s Greatest Slow Jams, trying to come to terms with myself. I was uncomfortable with my life and had finally admitted that fact. After our earlier argument I still hadn’t heard from Nina, which I felt was a good thing. I definitely needed more time to clear my head after the realizations that I had on my flight.

For the third time in a month I jumped out of bed and headed straight for the hospital. I called Nate and woke him with the news and immediately tried to get Shue on the line but he didn’t answer. I sped down the Beltway and hit the BW Parkway headed to P.G. Hospital. Nate was closer and beat me to the hospital. When I got upstairs Brendan was back in surgery. He had started bleeding again internally and his pressure had dropped drastically. There was a serious threat of cardiac arrest. His mother was in pieces when I saw her. Mr. Shue showed the wear and tear of all his family had been through on his face.

In that instant a weird thought came to my mind. I felt bad for thinking it but looking at his mother I couldn’t shake it, so I took a seat next to Nate and closed my eyes. I began to pray. “Dear God, please forgive me if what I’m asking is wrong. It’s just that this has been the hardest three weeks of my life, even harder than when my own father died. What I ask is not for me or even Nate. I ask on behalf of Brendan, because I know that he would want this”—I took a second before going on—“God, I ask you…if You won’t allow Brendan to recover from his injuries…could you please…”

“Yo, Cory.” Nate nudged me, interrupting. “You all right? You sweating like a dog over there and it ain’t warm in here.”

He startled me and when I snapped out of my state I realized that I was sweating. I took my palms and wiped my forehead. “Yeah, I’m cool.”

“Did you talk to Shue?” he asked.

“No, I tried him but no answer.”

“Same here. I hit him on the way to the hospital.”

I nodded as I noticed the doctors approaching us. I thought about my prayer that was interrupted and how I was about to ask God to end Brendan’s life and pain. When the doctors spoke I couldn’t believe what they said.

His mother almost fainted again, and his father burst into tears. I looked at Nate and then my watch. At six thirty-three on this June morning, after two and a half hours of surgery and three hours in the recovery room, Brendan had come out with flying colors and was out of the coma.

“Groggy doesn’t quite describe his condition,” one doctor said. “He did manage to ask for two things before drifting off to sleep.”

“What’s that?” his father asked.

“He said he wanted some Kool-Aid and does he know someone named Renée?”