�But what is goodness in God�s eyes? Like you said, we�re nothing more than people. How can people who know nothing except for what�s been told to them by other people know anything about God or his emotions?� Mathew asks. He looks irritated with me for not seeing the world his way.
I look at the paisley pattern in the carpet.
�Maybe,� my brother continues, �In God�s eyes it�s the cereal killers who have goodness figured out, how are we to know?�
�Why do we need know?� I ask him, looking back up into his face. His eyebrows bend down and I can see his thoughts spinning in his head.
Right now Dr. Smith would be very proud of me for trying to heal my relationship between my brother and me. He would be giving me a pat on the back for saying how I really feel, too.
�This age of science and answers has taken away our ability to simply have faith.� I say.
�Science isn�t what�s wrong,� Mathew replies in sharp disagreement, �how can you say science is bad when we�ve made all of these amazing technological advances and with science we are getting even closer to finding if God even exists?�
I shake my head, �That�s not what I�m saying.� I say in defense, �We have made great advances but with science we have expected an answer for everything, now we always need an explanation. We can�t just have faith.�
�But isn�t that natural? I mean, it�s in human nature to want answers, if it wasn�t then we�d never had made science in the first place.� His grey eyes are looking intensely into my own eyes and I feel like this is the first time we�ve made true eye contact for more then a few seconds since the accident.
�I...� I don�t know what to say or how to defend my ideas, �I don�t know. I don�t know if it�s human nature or not but I do know that we need clear answers and explanations for everything. I know that we need a reason to believe in God we can�t just believe because we have a feeling and also that we have to defend our believes to other people.� I look at Mathew and for the first time see his sadness rather than anger. He used to be the star in the school�s track team. I think the same thing he�s probably been thinking everyday, why couldn�t a car had hit someone else, someone who didn�t feel like they flew when they ran and took long walks around town almost every night? It seemed so unfair.
�Do you believe in heaven or hell?� My brother asks. I shake my head.
�Then why does what we do with our lives matter?� Mathew eyes are trying to read my expression and see into me.
�Maybe it doesn�t� I shrug, �it�s not like I can prove it to you.�
�If there�s no heaven or hell maybe there isn�t really death either.� Mathew looks down at the floor, �Maybe living and dieing are the same things, and we just go on.� He looks up and shrugs. He and I look at each other and Mathew�s eyes become glassy and start to gather tears. I watch him show his frailty and then I close my eyes and wrap my arms around him. Here, during our most glorious moment, with everything forgiven between us the elevator jerks and starts moving upward.
The rest of the night, we don�t say much to each other. We don�t really need to say anything. Matt goes to sleep in my bed and I spend the night out on the couch.
I click my tongue, inviting Bastet to come up on my lap. Bastet jumps onto the couch and purrs happily. I scratch her by her ear and smile. She lies down on my stomach and I take my brother�s book from the coffee table.
Sometime between three and four in the morning, I get a phone call. I put Mathew�s book down and answer the phone, puzzled.
A hysterical voice cries, �Oh, Elijah! Oh my God!�
�What happened?� I ask franticly.
�Your mom,� Dad�s voice says, �We�re in the hospital, she was in a car crash.� I can�t say anything, I�m in too much shock. Finally, I tell him that Matt and I will be right there. I go into my room and wake up my brother.
�Mom�s in the hospital.� I tell him as I shake his shoulders to wake him, �I�m going to run up and get the other car, you get ready and meet me outside.� Mathew still looks puzzled but deeply stressed and worried.
I run down the stairs and outside. It�s cold tonight and I didn�t grab my coat before I left. Being out this late, I feel like I�m the only person alive. I realize I also forgot to put on shoes when my bare feet start to burn.
Running, my feet pounding the cement, faster until my legs fly and I feel like I cannot stop. The soles of my feet burn as they push against gravel and the sharp uneven pavement.
Thop-thop-thop.
I focus on my feet pounding the asphalt. I focus on my legs moving so quickly I feel nothing but the pressure of the air holding me back. I focus on the whistle of the air whizzing passed my ears. I focus on my direction. Up the hill. I�m amazed that I run this fast and desperately for my mom. I never knew I loved her so much, but I guess this is natural instinct to love my mother and have to get the hospital.
I run inside my parent�s house, luckily Dad didn�t lock the door, and I grab the car keys to their third car. I run outside and put the keys in the ignition. I drive back down the hill and stop at the curb where my brother waits. I pick him up out of his chair and put him in the back seat then fold his chair and throw it into the trunk.
�What happened?� My brother asks from the back seat.
�Dad called,� I reply to Matt�s reflection in the rear-view mirror, �He was in the hospital. He said that Mom was in a car crash. It sounded like it was really bad� Mathew has this look on his face like he�s thinking, how? He looks so sad and perplexed like he�s wondering if he�s still dreaming. We pull into the hospital parking lot and I help my brother back into his chair and push him into the hospital.
My dad is already outside waiting for us. His face is distorted and his cheeks are shining with tears under the bright lights. He wraps his arms around me and cries into my shoulder.
�I asked her to get me some Niqarette,� He said beneath his sobs, �and she went out and got it for me.�
Inside the doctors are struggling to keep my mother alive.
We go into the waiting room and wait for hours. The sun is up and shining beautifully. Suddenly I feel light, like air is passing through me. The pain that was so constant I had gotten used to it and forgotten it was there left me completely. Then a doctor comes in.
�Mr. Stomen?� He asks. My dad looks up with pain and misery in his eyes. We all know what the doctor is about to say.
The doctor shakes his head and says, �I�m sorry.� My dad breaks into sobbing but my brother and I keep our faces blank. Neither of us have shed a tear since I answered the phone to Dad�s frantic voice. We decide that yes, we will donate Mom�s heart to whoever.