With This Heart (19 page)

I pressed the tips of my fingers into my eyelids, trying to stay in control of my emotions.

“
I’ve been on a road trip, kind of. What’s wrong with Caroline?”

She breathed into the phone and I knew she was trying to pick her priorities. If Caroline was okay, she’d yell at me for leaving. If Caroline wasn’t okay, she’d worry about my punishment later.

“
Sweetie. You have to come home. Caroline was really sick. Last night they-”

I cut her off. “
Was
really sick?”

“
Abby…” My mom tried to soothe me through the phone, but there was nothing she could say. My heart rate was picking up. My hands were shaking. I lost focus of my vision so that the world became a messy blur.

“
Is Caroline better now?” I asked with a hollow voice. My world caved in on itself like a collapsible tent. The sun seemed to shine too brightly, the air streamed too loudly out of the vents. Beck’s driving seemed slow, as if he didn’t realize that my world was slipping through my fingers with each passing second of this phone call.

Her silence said everything I needed to hear.

But finally she began. “No…Honey…Caroline passed aw-” she whispered, and I felt bile rise through to my throat.

“
I’m coming home. I’ll be there tonight,” I muttered, and then hung-up. My phone slipped out of my shaking hand and tumbled down to the floor of the camper.

Caroline.

Caroline died.

Caroline was no longer experiencing life.

She was no longer a person. She would never answer the phone if I called her. How can that be possible? They say you appreciate something more when it’s gone. That’s bullshit. I loved Caroline through every second of our friendship because we knew it was always terminal. We were never meant to be friends forever. When we first met, we both had timelines that weren’t even supposed to reach a new calendar year. Five years later, she was dead and my timeline was eternal in comparison.

“
Stop the car,” I demanded. We were on an empty stretch of highway with no other cars in sight. The sun was hanging high in the sky, heating the landscape and boiling my emotions even more.

Caroline lied to me. She told me she had eight months to live and she didn’t even have eight days. That selfless asshole. There was nothing but desert until the horizon met the sky. I had the black urn in my right hand. I left my shoes in the car and the sharp rocks were piercing the tender soles of my feet, but I didn’t care. I hoped I stepped on a million rocks. I hope they dug into my skin and drew blood.

Releasing a soul-crushing scream, I threw the urn as far as I could, watching it soar through the sky and then shatter into a million pieces once it collided with the ground. Wind picked up the dark grey ashes and spread them through the desert air. They moved organically, like a tiny tornado, but it wasn’t enough. I picked up rocks and threw them to where the urn had shattered. I reveled in the sound of rock hitting pottery. It dotted the landscape along with my angry sobs.

I felt guilt like a red hot iron branding my stomach. I’d left her in that hospital room so that I could go on a dumb road trip with a dumb guy who didn’t fucking matter.

“
You let me go!” I cried. “You TOLD ME TO GO!”

How dare she decide what was best for me. She didn’t want to show me her sickness? She wanted me to live? I’d fucking show her. I picked up rock after rock, stepping closer to the urn and chunking them as hard as I could.

“
YOU’RE A COWARD!” I screamed toward the desert sky. “I hate you! I HATE YOU!”

She told me to go on a road trip when I should have been with her. I should have been there to give her ice chips or for comedic relief. I would have done anything, truly anything, but she didn’t let me. She was being selfless, anyone would have agreed. But in that moment I had to believe she was actually being selfish or the guilt of last night would be too much to bear. She was dying and I was having my first orgasm. She was choking on her last breath and Beck was helping me spread ashes that weren’t even fucking ashes!

I heard rocks crunch beneath Beck’s weight behind me and I turned toward him. “You know what was in that urn?”

He just stood there, trying to gage my emotions as best as he could. It pissed me off that he wasn’t as angry as I was. His hands were shoved into his front pockets and his eyebrows were scrunched together in concern. There was pity etched across his features and I wished I could wipe it off and replace it with something else.

He never answered. “Well I’ll tell you anyway. I burned up old medical pamphlets, instructions for medications, preparations for the transplant, guides on how to prolong life with a debilitating heart condition. I burned everything up and shoved it in that urn because I wanted to be poetic and dramatic. I wanted to shed my old skin and move on from my old life. But you know what? While I was gallivanting around the country dumping burnt-up paper, my best friend was dying!”

“
Abby.” He moved to step closer to me, but his touch would have seared my guilty flesh. I didn’t want it.

“
I’m alive and she’s not. Caroline died because nothing in life is fair.” I looked up into his hazel eyes. They were staring back at me with such conviction. “She was a better person than me. When we first met, I wanted to ignore everyone in our support group, but she came over and sat next to me. She kept asking me questions and forcing me to answer. I thought she was weird and overly friendly. I made fun of her in my head. The nurses and doctors all loved her. Everyone who knew her fell in love with her.”

“
She didn’t deserve to die,” Beck answered for me.

“
I did,” I muttered toward the ground.

“
No one deserves to die over other people.”

I scoffed, thinking of all the serial killers that clearly deserved to die instead of good people every day. “Let’s go. I have to go home.”

I shoved past him and headed for the Camper. I wanted to be home. I needed to be home. I should have never left.

I hardly remember our journey back to Dallas. We drove straight there, stopping once for gas and a bathroom break. I’d broken down in the dirty bathroom stall, crying tears that I was too stubborn to shed in front of Beck. I collapsed on that disgusting floor, trying to make sense of life. I stayed in there for so long that eventually an attendant had to come bang on the door and demand that I let other customers use the restroom. Her palm shook the cheap plastic door and I wondered if the stall could collapse on top of me. The only thing I decided in that bathroom was that I didn’t want to live in a world without Caroline.

Beck didn’t mention anything when I got back into the car with puffy eyes. He put on a podcast of ‘This American Life’ and gave me my peace. I didn’t want to talk about it; I just wanted to wallow in my sadness and guilt. Empty landscape morphed to urban sprawl and concrete. We drove straight to my apartment without a word. He helped me bring my luggage up, and then we stood in the threshold of my apartment in silence. My throat was tightening up and tears burned the back of my eyes. I clenched my teeth together as a last stitch effort at remaining composed.

“
Do you want me to stay?” Beck asked. His dark brown eyebrows were tugged together and his hazel eyes had lost all of their joy. He looked like he had in his MIT ID photo. My jaw tightened even more and I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

“
No,” I answered, keeping my eyes locked on the door jam.

“
Are you sure?” he asked. I wanted to yell at him, to take my anger out on something, but I just mumbled a yes.

He nodded slowly and then inched backward. “You did the right thing,” he said before turning on his heel and fading down the stairs. I pressed the door closed and then slid down onto the linoleum, wondering what he meant by that. Did I do the right thing by leaving Caroline to die? By coming home when I found out she passed away? By telling him to leave? By taking a road trip with a stranger?

I had no clue how to get beyond the questions. They were suffocating me from within. My apartment felt like a furnace, so I got up, grabbed my keys, and left.

Once I was in my car driving toward downtown, I dialed my mom.

“
Sweetie, are you home?”

“
I just got back,” I answered, putting my blinker on and changing lanes to enter the highway.

“
We’re coming over!” she said, and I could already hear her shuffling around to get her shoes on.

“
I’m not there, I needed some air. I’ll come over to the house later.”

“
Are you sure? I could take a walk with you?” She was so sweet. She wouldn’t have been this forgiving if Caroline hadn’t died. She would have been royally pissed about my road trip.

For a moment, I considered letting her come with me. It would have been nice to have her for comfort, but I wanted to be alone.

“
No. I’ll see you later,” I answered, and then cut off the call. I tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and focused on driving toward an unknown destination. I exited when I felt like it, turned left and then right without conscious thought.

I ended up on a street with a row of bars and trendy restaurants. It was nearly nine at night, so most of the places were in full swing. I parked down the street and then walked along the sidewalk, looking for a venue where I could drown my sorrows. They all had interesting names like The Flying Squirrel, O’Doyle’s Pub, and The Hippy Hollow.

One bar caught my attention out of all the rest because of the wild dancers in the window. They were scantily clad and swaying with easy confidence. Music was streaming through the doors. It was a Rihanna remix with heavy bass that seduced me enough to pull my wallet out of my back pocket. I had no clue if it was an eighteen-and-over bar or not, but the bouncer at the door was busy arguing with another guy, so I just walked right in like I belonged. A dark black staircase led me up to a second floor and the moment I hit the landing, the music and bass multiplied tenfold. Bodies shuffled in every direction and I pushed my way through, trying not to make eye contact with anyone for fear that they’d realize I was too young to be there.

I wasn’t in control of my emotions. At any moment I could have crumbled into tears that wouldn’t cease, but I kept walking deeper into the flashing lights.

There was a single spot open at the bar, smack dab in the center, so I slid onto the seat and let the club scene engulf me.

“
What can I get you?” A voice asked. I looked up to see a well-dressed bartender smiling down at me. He was impeccably groomed: waxed eyebrows and gelled black hair. Damn, he was prettier than me.

“
Could I just have a water for now?” I wasn’t sure if he would ask for my ID and I didn’t want to get kicked out. My fingers laced together and my foot tapped nervously at the foot of my bar stool.

“
Sure thing,” he winked, and then grabbed a glass and filled it with water. His movements were fluid and moved to the beat of the music the entire time. When he was finished, he grabbed a small bowl and tossed a few Maraschino cherries inside.

“
On the house, sweetie.” He placed the bowl in front of me and offered me a genuine smile before moving on to the next customer.

I popped the cherries into my mouth one at a time, letting the pulsing music push away any thoughts trying to break through my facade. It turned into a cycle: I’d hear a snippet of the conversations around me or get distracted by the bartender and for a brief second I felt like a normal person. But then Caroline’s death would snake into my consciousness and I’d feel a sharp punch to my gut all over again.

I wished she was at the bar with me. I wished she was sitting in the seat next to me instead of the couple shouting over one another to be heard. I stayed in my own little world, but she would have already had conversations with a dozen people. She drew people in like a fly trap and I always stood in the background in awe of how personable she could be to complete strangers.

I guzzled my water, trying to scrape away the sadness. People shuffled around me. The seats at the bar would empty and then fill again by a never ending stream of club goers.

My gaze was focused on my empty cherry bowl when a large presence filled the seat to my left. I didn’t look up, but I could feel the person’s energy. The scent of hair spray and a flowery perfume made my nostrils sting.

“
Why the sad face, gorgeous?” A deep voice asked.

My eyes flitted up to see a sight that I have never beheld in all of my nineteen years. A drag queen, the most beautiful, over-the-top, sparkly drag queen I’d ever seen, was peering at me from beneath thick false eyelashes. I just sat there gaping, trying to take in as much of his/her appearance as I could. A bright pink wig spiraled at least a foot into the air. Her (I decided to go with her for the time being since I didn’t know proper protocol) make-up was flawless: bright pink and purple glitter eye shadow that tapered off into a cat eye.

“
Better close that mouth sweetie, or I’ll find something to put in it,” she said, and shimmied her shoulders playfully. Glitter particles flew into the air in every direction. Her sexual innuendo only forced my mouth open an inch wider.

“
Javi, could you get us two shots of tequila, please?” she asked, pointing one long finger at the bartender. That’s when it hit me. I hadn’t wandered into just
any
bar. Nope. I’d wandered into a gay bar. Who knew they even existed in Dallas?

“
What’s your name?” she asked me as the two shot glasses were set in front of us.

“
Abby,” I answered shyly, staring toward the liquor. I wasn’t supposed to have alcohol because of my transplant. It’s not like one night would kill me. It was just one of those things that got cut when I already had so many obstacles working against my health.