“My daughter is in there, worried that she’s about to die, for crying out loud. Why is everybody bawling out here?”
I can’t hear the reply of the man she’s talking to – he’s one of the nurses who has been into my room this morning that I don’t recognise.
It’s unnerving to say the least.
A whole bunch of random medical professionals coming in and out of my room can’t mean anything good.
I don’t know what he’s said to my mum, but she’s talking again, only this time she’s deadly quiet.
That’s when I know for sure.
My time’s up.
I thought it’d feel different, I thought I’d know that the end was near, but I don’t… I feel no different today than I did yesterday, or the day before that, for that matter.
I’ve been in here so long; one day is just blending into the next.
I can see the distinct difference between the day I was brought in, and now. But I was expecting something more sudden. Cardiac arrest felt a hell of a lot more like dying than this does.
I pick up my phone, about to text Lucy to let her know she needs to get in here as soon as she can, when I catch sight of my mum walking back through the door.
She’s got tears in her eyes and I feel my heart sink further.
It’s not until I see the smile on her lips that I release the breath I didn’t realise I’d been holding.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Leanne
Present day
They’ve found her a heart.
I’ve still got no idea what half the nurses were crying about out there, but I don’t care anymore – they’ve found my baby a heart and it’s the best news I’ve ever heard.
I know that a transplant isn’t a foolproof solution, and that there’s a huge risk to any surgery, let alone open heart, but this is the best option we have left. She’s made it through so many of these types of operations, I know she can do it again.
Violet is deteriorating before my very eyes and there’s only so long she can hold on for. It’s been hard to watch her like this, but now I think I finally understand her decision – I can see why she wanted to take a chance.
This will completely change her life.
She needs this heart more than anyone else in the whole country and she’s finally going to get it.
I know I shouldn’t feel so entirely elated – someone, somewhere, is probably having the worst day of their life right now. They’ll be preparing to say goodbye to a loved one.
I know it probably makes me a selfish, horrible person, but I’m so grateful that it’s not me who is having to say goodbye.
I hope that family out there can find some type of comfort in knowing that the person they cared about is going to save others – I hope the knowledge of this gift can bring them a little bit of peace.
I’m so grateful that this person, whoever they are, decided to be a donor. There’s a lot of people out there who aren’t and that’s something I’ll never understand.
I’ve always been a firm believer in the idea that when you’re dead – you’re dead.
Yes, I believe there’s something more out there… some type of afterlife, but you don’t need your body for that. You don’t need to take a perfectly good heart or set of lungs deep down in the earth in order to move on from this life.
There’s thousands and thousands of people on waiting lists for organs in this country and only so few people willing to donate something they no longer have use for. The concept truly blows my mind.
I understand it’s probably the first-hand experience we’ve had with recipients that’s made me see this in such a black and white fashion – but I can’t imagine ever denying someone the chance to live after I was already gone.
“Mum?”
Violet is looking at me in bewilderment and it’s then I realise that although my mind is going a mile a minute, I still haven’t said a word out loud.
“They’re coming in to see you now.”
She’s about to demand answers from me, I can see it in her eyes, but she’s going to have to wait, because they’re already here – time is of the essence now, when that heart gets here, they have to be ready for it.
Dr. Ellis, two nurses and a cardiologist whose name I can’t recall stand before us.
“What’s going on?” Violet whispers.
She’s terrified; I can smell her fear from here, but finally this time it’s good news.
Dr. Ellis gives her a smile and just nods her head.
“Are you… are you saying?” Violet stutters, disbelief thick in her voice.
“I am,” she confirms. “We found you a heart.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Violet
Present day
I don’t know what everyone else is worried about at twenty-two years old… if I were to guess I’d say partying, drinking… sex perhaps.
For most people my age, I’d be willing to bet it isn’t the fear of having their heart taken out of their body and replaced with someone else’s.
But that’s what I worry about most in this very moment as the doctors, nurses, anaesthesiologists and surgeons all rush around me like headless chickens, prepping my body and talking to me about what’s going to happen next.
I don’t hear a single one of their words.
I don’t need or want an explanation.
I already know what happens now.
They’ll take out my old, broken and battered heart and give me a new one.
Somebody else’s old one.
I try not to think too hard about the fact that in order for me to live, someone else had to die.
I’ve officially been waiting months for a heart. Unofficially it’s been looming for my whole life… and now that one is finally here, I’m scared.
I wish I could talk to Lucy.
I wish that I could be like my best friend – that my biggest concern was whether or not the guy I’ve been dating is going to message me today or not, or whether the selfie I took a few days ago is going to get as many likes on Instagram as the last one did.
If she knew this was happening right now, which she will soon enough, all of that crap would be quickly forgotten, but for now, I wish I was like her… young, healthy and carefree.
I’ve had those superficial moments, they’ve been fleeting, but they’re there, and it’s not until now, in this very instant, that I realise how perfect it was to fall out with my best friend over something trivial, only to make up again two hours later, or how amazing it was for a boy that I liked to decide that he liked someone else, or how I’d give anything to be absolutely devastated because the top I wanted didn’t come in my size.
I’d give just about anything for those little moments to be my biggest concern right now.
All other people’s insignificant, little nothings are every one of my most treasured somethings, and in this moment, as I’m wheeled out of my room and off to the operating theatre, I hold them close.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Violet
I open my eyes and blink drowsily as I take in the small, dimly lit room of the intensive care unit.
I glance to the left and smile as I recognise my mother’s sleeping form, her neck propped up awkwardly in the armchair.
She’s going to have the worst stiff neck, but I wouldn’t have expected to find her anywhere other than right here next to me.
She never leaves me when I need her. She’s still wearing the same clothes as she was when they wheeled me into the operating theatre.
I don’t even know what day it is, or how long I’ve been out – I know I’ve been awake, but I can’t really recall what happened – it’s like the memory is covered in a thick haze.
It’s dark outside and I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus. The pain thrumming through my body is too much and I know I need to ask for more pain relief.
I’m opening my mouth to let the nurse in the corner know that I’m awake when I catch a movem
ent out of the corner of my eye and my gaze meets his.
He’s standing on the other side of the glass window, watching me intensely.
I’ve never met this man, but I know him right down to my bones. And as I stare into the blue depths of his soul, my new heart skips a beat for the very first time.
This is about what my heart wants, not what it needs for once, and all that my heart wants in this moment, is him.
Chapter Thirty
Rylan
2015
I don’t know what I’m doing back at this window; this is the third time I’ve stood in this spot in the last hour alone.
I know I should do something, anything other than just linger here… but I don’t know how to break away.
There’s something keeping me here right now, and in a world where nothing seems to make sense anymore, I need this feeling, if only to get through the next few minutes.
I glance back at the girl in the bed.
If I had to guess, I’d say she was about nineteen years old – far too young to look the way she does.
She’s pale and gaunt and if I hadn’t had to witness first-hand my sister’s life in this world coming to an end, I would have sworn that nobody had ever looked as close to death as the girl behind this small glass window.
She’s motionless. So, so still and I worry for a moment that she’s dead too.
The only thing reassuring me she’s still alive, even though it’s really no business of mine, is the continuous beep from the monitor next to her, making it clear that her heart is, in fact, still beating – that it’s doing the very thing that my sister’s isn’t.
A loud sob rips through my body at the thought.
Doctors and nurses move around the hall but none of them bother me; most of them avoid eye contact entirely.
They know why I’m still aimlessly wandering the halls of the intensive care unit.
My sister may have had no brain function for a couple of days, but now she’s officially gone. The machines aren’t breathing for her anymore – there’s nothing left keeping her alive.
I don’t know what to do, I’ve never felt this alone or unsure in my entire life.
I know I need to leave; I need to be anywhere that’s not inside these hospital walls, but I can’t seem to make that happen.
I know I can’t stay here forever, but I’m terrified that walking out the door will make everything even more real than it already is.
I’m not sure who I’m trying to fool with my logic – this couldn’t possibly be any more real, and deep down I know that it’s not going to make a difference if I stay or go.
She’s gone.
I take one more look at the girl and promise myself that this will be the last time I’ll ever see her.
I allow my eyes to linger on her motionless form, and as I finally find the will to turn around, her arm moves, and my breath catches in my throat.
I watch her as though she’s some type of miracle, and maybe she is, as she slowly wakes and eventually glances over at the sleeping figure in the chair next to her.
I see the side of her face curve and I know she’s smiling.
Her head rolls slightly in my direction and the wave of pain that crosses her features is so sudden and intense that I rush forward a step.
She catches my movement out of the corner of her eye, and I stop dead in my tracks.
The nurse from the corner is rushing towards her, but she doesn’t look away from me.
All I really see are her eyes – surrounded by dark circles, they are the most beautiful crystal blue eyes I’ve ever seen. Even filled with pain, and dulled with obvious sickness, I’ve never seen anything like them.
She stares at me – a total stranger, and I stare back at her, with one lone tear rolling down my cheek.
Three years later
Chapter Thirty-One
Violet
“What if this guy’s a sociopath, huh? What happens then?” I demand.
“Calm down, I’ve heard he’s really nice.”
“Oh ‘you’ve heard’ have you? He could be a killer just waiting for the right opportunity for all you know.”
Lucy pauses from applying the makeup to my face and rolls her eyes.
“You watch way too much C.S.I.”
I huff out a breath. “You’re not wrong, but that’s not the point… what if he’s a murder rapist, hmmm? You want that on your conscience?”
“Stop being such a drama queen and show me what you think you’re going to wear.”
“What do you mean, what I think I’m going to wear? I’m perfectly capable of putting clothes on my body, thank you very much.”
I know as well as she does that she’s just successfully distracted me from my irrational fears, but for now at least, I’ve got bigger fish to fry.
“Baggy t-shirts and jeans don’t count as clothes, Letty.”
“I wasn’t going to wear a t-shirt,” I grumble as I slide off the chair.
I pull out a long-sleeve blouse and a pair of black pants from my closet and wave them at her.
She screws up her nose in a look of distaste. “It’s a date, not a funeral.”
She might only be joking, but I’ve worn that exact outfit to a funeral before, so she actually has a point.
I shoot her daggers anyway as I rummage through the closet again, this time emerging with a denim skirt and a green knit, high-neck jumper.
“Oh, good God no… not the snot colour jersey.”
I throw the clothes onto the chair in the corner and groan in frustration. “You find me something then.”
We both know she’s going to get her way in the long run anyway – she always does.
“I’ll do you one better.” She grins wickedly, and I seriously fear for myself in this moment.
I may have survived more operations and treatments than I can count, but Lucy’s hare-brained schemes still scare the life out of me like nothing else.
Her and her ideas are the reason I’m preparing for a blind date right now.
Her husband, Emmett, is no better than she is. The guy I’ve been forced into meeting tonight is someone he knows from work apparently – so he’s as much to blame for this mess as she is.
“You know, I would have thought that being seven months pregnant would have slowed you down, even just a little bit.”
She turns and sticks her tongue out at me over her shoulder. “Not a chance.”
She pulls out a shopping bag, and I’m instantly nervous at the sight of it.
Lucy is always pointing items out on clothing racks at stores and telling me how good things would look on me.
She’s sweet, and if it wasn’t for the big scar that runs down the centre of my chest, she’d be absolutely right.
If it wasn’t for the marks on my skin, I probably would have tried on the plunging-neckline dress she’d pointed out to me two weeks ago.
But that’s not me. I’m scarred, I’m flawed. And I’m okay with keeping those parts of myself hidden. Lucy, however, doesn’t seem to see my scars when she looks at me, and while that’s a blessing in itself, right now, it has the potential to be a curse.
She waddles over with the bag and holds it out to me.
I reach for it as though it’s a bomb that could go off at any minute, because, quite frankly, it is.
“It won’t bite.” She laughs as she shoves it into my waiting hands. “Oh, ye of little faith.”
“Does it have sequins?” I wince.
“Nope.”
“Glitter?”
“Nope again.”
She sits herself down in the chair I sat in while she painted my face on.
“Plunging neckline?”
I brace myself for the answer.
“Just open the bag, Violet.”
I peek inside and am greeted by the sight of deep blue, soft fabric – so far so good.
I hold my breath and pull the garment out.
It’s a dress, with long sleeves and a full cov
erage front, a tie at the waist and by the looks of it, the length will fall around my knees.
It’s perfect.
“It’s gorgeous,” I breathe.
“You don’t have to sound so shocked.”
“I am shocked. I was seriously expecting at least a leg split or some awful attempt at getting my tits out or something.”
She laughs long and loud, clutching her swollen belly as she does.
Pregnancy becomes Lucy, she’s the most radiant and gorgeous pregnant woman I’ve ever seen.
“Don’t worry, I’m not blind. I see your face every time I point out those types of outfits – I know they’re not your thing.”
“Then why do you keep suggesting them to me?” I cry in outrage.
“Because they’d look beautiful on you, Letty. Just because you don’t see it, doesn’t mean I can’t.”
I feel the blush heating my cheeks – I’m not good with any form of compliment, I never have been.
“And besides…” she winks at me, “you haven’t seen the back yet.”
I spin the dress around and grin. Now this type of plunging I can deal with.
The back drops down low and drapes at what I assume will be near the top of my bum.
I have no scars and nothing to hide back there and it’s almost as though this dress was made just for me.
“It’s amazing, thank you.”
She waves her hand in front of her to indicate that it’s no big deal at all, but I’m not having it. She’s thought a lot about this outfit. I know she so desperately wants tonight to go well for me.
I don’t date. Like, ever.
I’m not even entirely sure how I ended up agreeing to being set up on a blind date in the first place, my sly best friend and her equally as cunning husband must have caught me in a moment of weakness, but I’m here now, and looking far more respectable than I usually do – so I figure I may as well go and make the best of it.
Every Last Beat Page 14
