#BL VERSION: "A CRACK IN FOREVER" - [COMPLETED]

CRACK 17

Everyone was speechless for a moment, the ring of my voice plaintive on the air of that small room. Then, abruptly, Dr. Brandy and Mr. and Mrs. Dixon were gone, leaving a deeper silence in their wake.

Azrail sat heavily, then lay on his back, his jeans ridiculously baggy, his T-shirt a tent over his emaciated torso.

I picked up my pack and pulled the papers from it.

"No," Azrail said. "It's too risky."

"What isn't?" I asked, my eyes welling with tears.

He grasped for my hand, pulling me to the bedside and pressing it to his lips. "I love you," he said. "Don't fuck your life up over this."

"I won't," I said, hoisting my pack over my shoulder, kissing him, and leaving.

Dr. Brandy was on the phone at the nursing station, talking, gesturing with his hand, periodically peering over his glasses at Mr. Dixon, who listened intently. Mrs. Dixon sat on a chair nearby, dabbing at her eyes. I approached them; never had my heart beat so fast, almost distractedly so, seeming to push me forward with each throb. As I walked, I smoothed the papers with my trembling hands until I passed Mrs. Dixon and reached the two men, their backs turned to me, and stood listening to Dr. Brandy on the phone.

"The young man is resisting. I have the parents here with me. Their son has been released by the hospital. I think--"

I tapped Dr. Brandy on the shoulder; Mr. Dixon caught sight of me out of the corner of his eye and turned around, at first startled, then impatient.

"Just a moment, excuse me," Dr. Brandy said into the phone, covering the mouthpiece and looking at me. "Alzane, I realize your concern for Azrail, but you are just making things---"

"This should settle it," I said, handing him the papers.

"What? What's this?" Dr. Brandy asked.

Mr. Dixon snatched the papers from my hand, making me gasp; I hadn't had time to make a photocopy that morning and suddenly I realized he was holding the only copy.

He looked at it, flipping through the pages rapidly.

"Hang on," Dr. Brandy said into the phone, and then, seeing the title of the document, he added, "I'll call you back back," and hung up.

"There's a surrogate decision maker?" Dr. Brandy asked. "Let me see that, Sander."

Mr. Dixon handed the papers to the doctor, saying, "This is a ploy." Mrs. Dixon had stood, joining her husband, grasping his arm.

I waited while Dr. Brandy pushed his glasses up oh his nose and looked at the papers, inspecting them carefully, particularly the signatures, the dates. He lifted his glasses from his eyes and brought the signature page close to his face. I thought he was going to smell the ink.

Seconds stretched into oblivion as I watched, my face hot, guilt burning a hole through my stomach. The longer it took, the more I wanted to grab the papers back and say, 'Forget it,' but I couldn't. I had stepped into the abyss.

Finally, Dr. Brandy turned toward me and stared. He didn't give me the papers, instead handing them back to Mr. Dixon, who folded them and put them in his inside breast pocket. I was sure my trickery showed on my face; Mr. Dixon would surely see, and Dr. Brandy was a psychiatrist, just this side of a mind reader! I wanted to run, but before I could, Dr. Brandy spoke.

He said, "There should be a copy of these on the chart."

I breathed.

Mr. Dixon said, "You're not saying they're valid, Brandy?"