With This Heart (3 page)

…

The next morning, I woke up to a text.

Beck
: When do we leave?

I didn’t answer. It was one thing to consider taking him on my road trip in the middle of the night when I was nearing unconsciousness and feeling lonely in my tiny apartment. In the light of day, clarity sank back in and I shoved my phone into my purse without a response.

I started that day like I did every day since the transplant; I took my temperature and then swallowed each of my anti-rejection drugs in one big gulp. I’d learned that trick early on. I would say I was pretty talented at being sick.

Once a week I had an appointment with my doctor to make sure my body wasn’t attacking my shiny, new heart. That’s where I was heading with my mom that day. I was staring out the window, letting my eyes lose focus on the homes flashing by, when I considered for the first time that I
wanted
Beck to go on the road trip with me. In fact, I didn’t want to go on the road trip
without
Beck anymore. I squashed the thought by turning the stereo up louder, but Mom quickly turned it back down.

“
You don’t listen to music that loud when you drive, do you?”

“
Um, no, not really,” I lied. The louder, the better. How can you feel the music if it’s not blocking out every other sound?

“
Abby, you can’t be distracted when you drive. It’s important to focus on the road and to drive defensively.”

You might be wondering why my mother was repeating all of this even though I was nineteen and should have been driving for three years already. Well, it turns out that when you have congenital heart failure, your heart can crap out on you at any moment and you’ll pass out, and you know, take out quite a few people heading south on highway - 71. So even though I had my license, I didn’t start driving until after the transplant two months ago.

“
We’re just doing lab tests today, right?” I asked, trying to turn her focus toward my health. It was her favorite distraction, and I was actually quite thankful to have her help 99% of time.

“
Yes, and then I think Dr. Pierce will do a quick physical like usual.”

…

I pulled my sleeve back down after they drew a few tubes of blood. I hated wearing a long-sleeved shirt in summer, but I always had to wear layers to Dr. Pierce’s office. I’d lost so much weight in the last few years, and even though the new heart was helping me put some of it back on, I still felt chilled to the bone most of the time. Good thing I lived in Texas. At least I’d warm up when we walked outside.

“
You’re all done. I think your mom is waiting out in the lobby for you,” the medical assistant offered politely, finally making eye contact. She was always the one to take my blood. The first time I went in, she couldn’t find my vein despite me being ten shades beyond pale. After that incident, she just took my blood and we averted eye contact until the very end. Humans are weird.

“
Oh, actually, is Alyssa here?” I asked, shuffling my feet awkwardly.

The medical assistant eyed me skeptically and then nodded. “Yeah, she’s on break though…”

She really wanted to add,
so go away and don’t interrupt her fifteen minutes of peace.

Too bad, lady.

“
It’s just a really quick something, and I promise she likes me. She told me once that I was her favorite patient.” I couldn’t actually recall Alyssa ever saying that. She had a straight forward, cut-the-crap attitude. I actually don’t recall her ever paying me a compliment, but it worked. The medical assistant turned toward the break room to retrieve Alyssa.

“‘
My favorite patient’?” Alyssa repeated with a smirk as she stepped closer. Her brown gaze shifted above my head, most likely to confirm that the coast was clear. I turned with her gaze to see my mom immersed in a conversation with Dr. Pierce out in the hallway. I swear the two women had become best friends considering the amount of time they’d spent together. I imagined them talking about the singular interest that brought them together: me and my ol’, well new, heart.

“
Are you sure you want to talk about this right now?” Alyssa asked with a warning tone.

“
Yeah, it’s sorta urgent.”

“
Sort of?” she mocked.

I scrunched my nose in protest. “I’m nineteen, remember? I’m allowed to use words like ‘like’ and ‘sorta.”

Alyssa laughed and gently tugged my arm so she could pull us into the closest exam room.

“
You realize you’re putting not only my job, but this practice and the hospital, in jeopardy by asking what you’re asking.” Every feature of her face was stern, which only added to the seriousness of her warning.

“
Alyssa, I realize there are ramifications for my actions. They sound really terrible, and I promise I won’t use the information recklessly.”

She rolled her eyes and then narrowed them on me, as if judging how worthy I was. I hoped in that moment that my makeup-less face portrayed me as innocently as possible. For good measure, I widened my sage green eyes and flashed her a pleading smile. I gave her the full on sick-kid face, and I knew she was putty in my hands. I’m sorry that you have to know about that. I wish I could say that I never used my sickness for selfish reasons, but I thought of it like this: life had dealt me a really shitty hand. Other people were pretty or smart, and they used those qualities to their advantage in life. Why couldn’t I, ONLY once or twice, use my sickness to my advantage? I mean, I didn’t even get a Wish. This was my Wish. Alyssa was my quasi-Make-A-Wish Genie in that moment.

Maybe I should have told her.

Anyway, she pulled out a piece of paper from one of the like twelve dozen pockets on her scrubs and shoved it into my hand like she was dealing drugs and wanted to get the paraphernalia out of her hands, lest the police roll up soon.

“
That’s their name and address. You DO NOT know me and you DO NOT say the true reason you’re there, ever.”

My hand shook a little bit when she gave me that speech. The whole idea felt serious in that moment, like the road trip might actually happen after all. Beck’s handsome features materialized in my thoughts.

“
How long are you planning on being gone?” she asked with a flash of concern.

“
Two weeks,” I whispered, fearing her reprimand.

“
So you’re going to miss two weekly check-ups?” Her voice was harsh. I wanted to scream,
YES. I’m going to miss two appointments so I can LIVE my life! What’s the point of getting a new heart if all it’s good for is watching reality TV and picking out spices with my mom?!

I wanted to say that so badly, but out of respect I offered only a nod.

“
Yes, but I’ll be fine. I’ll take all of my medications and take my temperature every day.”

I knew that wasn’t enough. There were so many things that could go wrong.

She mashed her lips together in deliberation before she tugged the piece of paper away from my still-trembling hand. “Here, let me write my cell number on the back so you can call me if anything comes up.”

…

Mom didn’t leave me alone until late on Monday night and I told myself I was too tired to worry about the fact that I hadn’t heard from Beck all day. I mean, he had texted me that morning and I never responded, but what kind of determination was that? One text and he gave up? I thought romance was supposed to be desperate and wild.

Just as I began to ponder that fact, my phone buzzed next to me on the night stand and I shifted my weight to peek at who was calling.
CAROLINE
lit up the screen with her cheerful, steroid-y face. She was my best friend, besides my parents and obviously now the gay couple next door. Oh, I should have mentioned earlier that the blind man is not actually blind blind, just that strange kind of blind where you aren’t sure if they’re looking
at
you or straight
through
you. Earlier today I was taking my trash down to the dumpster and the blind man had stepped out of his apartment at the exact same moment.

“
Is that Otis you have there?” he asked, eyeing the trash bag.

Otis?

“
Uh…huh, it...Is…” My words sounded scraggly and half-hearted. I had no clue what else to say. What was I supposed to do? Admit to the poor guy that it was a trashbag full of yesterday’s salmon smashed into the remnants of whatever organic/vegan/gluten-free dish I had consumed alongside it?

That’s the sort of awkward I am. I would rather proceed with a ridiculous lie than make either one of us endure one of humanity’s pained moments.

The phone buzzed once more in my hand and I swiped my finger to answer it. Oh, right.

“
Hey Caroline.”

“
Hi Abby.”

She sounded tired like she always did lately.

“
How’s life over at Methodist?” That was the hospital where most of the sick kids I knew received treatment. I met Caroline there when we were both suffering through an extended stay a few years ago. We were on the donor waiting list at the time. Obviously, I wasn’t on that list anymore. Caroline still was. She needed a transplant because she had a rare form of liver cancer that had originated as intrahepatic bile duct cancer. She was on the donor list, but they don’t give
new livers to patients that still have cancer. There are too many people who need them that are cancer-free.

So Caroline was too sick to be cured and too sick to get a new liver. She was the biggest reason I had a problem with the whole fairness-of-life thing.

“
Same ol’, same ol’. My parents are both working to keep up with the bills, so it gets pretty boring during the day,” she answered,

“
Are you having to go to any groups?”

“
I told my mother that they depressed me and she said I didn’t have to go anymore.”

I frowned, thinking back to how boring and sad those groups had been. “Yeah, I agree. I have a book I need to lend you. It has tons of steamy romance.” I hopped off my bed to start a collection of books to take to her soon. There was already a bag sitting by my desk, so I picked up various books off my shelves and started stuffing them inside.

“
Oh good,” she answered. “I’ve been swapping between TV and books.”

“
Same.”

“
Did you finish getting your GED?”

Right before the transplant, when the prospect of me continuing to exist as a human looked pretty slim, my parents became lenient about school. As soon as I was healthy enough post-transplant, I started studying for the GED so I could start to become an actual member of society and not just a sick person. It’s a strange concept, considering for so many years I tried to push thoughts of the future out of my mind. It was too painful to consider the possibilities of a future career when the odds of reaching my nineteenth birthday were less than likely.

“
Yeah like a week or two ago. I should have invited you to my graduation.”

She laughed, a sad little laugh. “You had a graduation?”

“
My mom and dad made this giant deal of it. They ordered a cake. Oh, and they printed out my certificate and had it placed in this extravagant gold frame.”

“
Where is it now?”

“
Behind my door in my bedroom. It’s pretty ugly, but I told them I would hang it up soon.”

A part of my brain warned me to walk on eggshells, that I was being insensitive to Caroline, complaining of things like ugly framed diplomas, when she would never get one of her own. However, a bigger part of me remembered that she was my best friend and if I couldn’t be honest with her then we had nothing left.

“
When do you get to come home, Caro?” I asked.

“
Soon I hope. Maybe this week.”

“
That’s awesome.” I tried to have genuine hope in my voice, but it was hard when I knew that she was going home with cancer still in tow.

“
My mom has me going to some career counselor tomorrow,” I began, hoping the situation would make her laugh, “but I’ll stop by after that and if you’re out by Wednesday, let’s get coffee somewhere. We’ve never done that before. Y’know, just sitting somewhere and chatting about real-life guys… not just movie stars.”

I could hear her smile through the phone when she replied, “We’d have to actually meet them before we did that.”

“
I’m working on it…” I murmured.

“
Alright, I’ll see you then.”

“
Bye, Caroline.”

…

Precisely thirty minutes before my counseling session, Mom picked me up in her fancy silver SUV. I slid onto the cool cream leather, and she gave me one of her isn’t-life-grand smiles. My dad made enough at his job so that we never had to worry about medical bills, which in turn allowed my mom to devote every ounce of her spare time in the past nineteen years to making sure I was happy and healthy.

“
Mom, thanks for picking me up and coming with me today.”

A smile spread across her face and I knew it was the right thing to say. Sometimes I got so lost in the cynical side of life that remembering to feel extremely freaking lucky about certain things just slipped through the cracks.