“Mom.”
“I’m so sorry, Ava.”
“Mom, listen to me. You haven’t failed. You’re the reason I’m still alive.”
“Not for much longer,” she says with so much sadness that my eyes start to sting. I know crying won’t solve anything. Tears won’t fix my heart. But they’re one of the only things I can give my mom now that she’s lost hope.
“Do you know why I named you Ava?” my mom asks, caressing my hair. We stare at each other with identical, watering blue eyes. I manage a small shake of my head.
Her tears fall onto my face, mingling with my own. “Because Ava means life. It means living. I wanted you to live forever.”
And now you’re going to die. The unspoken words are screamed into the silence. The nightlight and moonlight aren’t strong enough to push the shadows away. They’re coming for me. Creeping closer with every second.
“I wish I could give you my heart.”
“I know.”
She licks her tears from her quivering bottom lip. “I-I thought about it, you know. I’ve thought about it so many times.”
I frown. “Thought about what?”
“Giving you my heart.”
The meaning of her words hits me like a punch to the gut. My blood turns to ice. “Mom…”
“Now I wish I’d done it. I’ll be dead without you anyway.”
“Listen to me.” My voice is stronger than it’s been since I was admitted. I grab hold of her hand. “Don’t you dare. Don’t think it. Don’t say it. Don’t do it. I know it’s hard, but you have to go on living, Mom.”
Her face crumples. “I don’t know how.”
I’m not an expert on the topic, either. I’m dying before I ever had the chance to really live. “You try your best. Promise me you will. Mom. Look at me. Promise me you’ll go on living. I need to know you will. We’re Malones, remember? That’s what you’ve told me my whole life. We’re fighters. We don’t give up. So don’t you dare give up now. Promise me.”
Silent tears stream down her face. “I promise.”
I release an unsteady breath and lean back against my pillows, depleted of energy. “Good. And give Uncle Aidan a chance.”
“Aidan? What do you mean?”
I just smile. I want to tell her that she’s my hero, my strength, my inspiration. That even if I had a lot of friends, she would always be my best one. I want to thank her for looking after me, loving me, fighting for me.
But my throat is failing along with every other muscle in my body. Licking my dry lips, all I can manage to croak out are the only words that ever matter in the end. “I…l-love…you.”
Mom buries her face in her hands and sobs. When she’s swallowed her tears down, she removes her hands and lifts her face. “I love you, too, sweetheart. More than you’ll ever know. You’re my heart.”
‘You’re mine,’ I mouth, lifting my hand in a crescent shape to join with hers and create the outline of a heart. It’s been our thing for as long as I can remember. I came up with it when I was little to make her smile. It’s having the opposite effect now.
“Sing to me?” I ask, as darkness falls once more.
Maybe it’s because I’m at the end of my life that I’m yearning for the beginning of it. My mom must feel the same because she clears her throat, before standing to tuck me in and leaning over to kiss my forehead. “Always.”
She turns off the light and sits back down on the bed, stroking my hair. Changing the lyrics as she used to when I was little, my mom begins to hum a familiar melody through her tears. One that feels like home and sounds like a memory.
“Oh, Ava girl, the pipes, the pipes are calling…”
When she reaches the end, my mom sings the last line over and over, like a promise.
“I’ll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.”
There are worse ways to die than surrounded by love and a lullaby. Lured away from the light, I close my eyes and fall asleep in peace.
Someone is speaking. The words are quick and quiet, making them impossible to catch in my hazy state.
I’m not sure what day it is, or how much time has passed since I last woke up, but something feels different. Somehow, I know this is it. This will be one of the last times I open my eyes.
My muscles ache. My skin is cold and clammy. And a fine sheen of mist coats my body. Instead of seeing shadows on the horizon, now I only see light. Bright, seductive sunshine, beckoning me like a moth to a flame.
It takes all my energy to crack my eyes open. Through the small sliver of vision, I see my mom, Aidan, and Finn in a corner holding onto each other.
I’m startled by a man hovering over me. It takes my mind a moment to realize it’s my mom’s priest, Father O’Donnell. And then it all makes sense. I’m being read the last rites. It seems everyone else knows this is it, too.
Father O’Donnell smiles down at me as he begs God to look after my soul. My mom’s cries sound over the prayers. The priest lowers his thumb and makes the sign of the cross on my forehead. I close my eyes and say a prayer of my own in my mind, asking God, if he exists, to look after the people in this room and help them smile again one day soon.
The priest’s prayers finish at the same time as mine. I don’t open my eyes again. I don’t want the last image of all the people I love to be of them crying. Instead, I reach into my mind like a photo album and pull out a memory of them smiling and laughing.
I study it, knowing some healthy people never experience the amount of love I have in my short life. Feeling blessed and grateful, I hold on to the image for as long as I can.
Then I let go.
I let it all go.
“Ava! Wake up! Sweetie, please wake up.”
Just as I’m about to be drowned by light, my body is jostled away from it.
“Ava, wake up. They found you a heart, baby. Oh, my God. They found you a heart. You need to wake up. Come back to us. Please, sweetheart, come back to us.”
The frantic words ring through the soundless space I’m floating in.
“They found you a heart.”
I turn back toward the light, watching in confusion as the wide circle starts to shrink away from me. I stretch out my hands but it’s now out of my reach. The light continues to retreat.
“Come back to us.”
My body feels detached from my brain. Something is tugging at my subconscious. I just want to sleep. What’s going on?
“Please, sweetheart, come back to us.”
Pain and noise invade my senses in a rush. A bright light shines in my eyes. But it’s the wrong kind of light. This light is cold. It burns. I clench my eyes shut, seeking comfort in the darkness.
“She’s responsive,” a voice I don’t recognize murmurs.
“Ava. It’s Doctor Stevens. If you can hear me, we need you to open your eyes.”
Doctor Stevens? An image of a woman with kind brown eyes flickers in front me. Reality begins to filter through. The memory of who and where I am begins to return.
“They found you a heart.”
“They found you a heart.”
“They found you a heart.”
Like being pulled out of troubled water, I gasp as my eyes fly open. Someone presses on my shoulder, encouraging me to lie back down. I squint at the bright light, my mind groggy but awake.
“Oh, thank God,” my mom cries out, appearing above my face. Doctor Stevens appears on the other side and smiles.
“There you are. We were beginning to worry we were too late for a second there. Can you hear me, Ava? Blink once if you can. Okay, great. Do you know who I am and where you are? Blink once again if you do. Perfect. I’ve seen a lot in my twelve years at this hospital, but it’s not often we see a full-blown miracle. We’ve found you a donor match, right here at San Francisco General. It became available this evening, and it’s being tested now to make sure it’s healthy. But it’s a positive blood match. We’re hopeful it will be a good fit for you. So you need to hang on, okay? Ju
st hold on a bit longer.”
I’m hearing her words, but I’m struggling to make sense of them. After twenty-two years of being on the transplant list, and just moments from death, they found me a heart?
“It became available this evening.” My stomach clenches as the implication behind her words sinks in. For every action, there’s an equal and opposite reaction. There’s no good without bad. No life without death. My guilt is equal to my shock.
“We need to move fast. We have to get you prepped for surgery as soon as possible.”
I’m overwhelmed as the room erupts in a flurry of activity. Nurses rush around my bedside, wires are pulled, buttons are pressed, and unpronounceable words are spoken. Then I’m on the move.
Always knowing when I need her, my mom appears from nowhere. She squeezes my hand, her soaked face smiling down at me. She’s too choked to speak, but her eyes say it all.
I’m rushed into the operating room. Not long after, numbness seeps through my veins as the anesthetic takes effect.
“Just hold on, Ava. You’ve fought this far, this long. Keep fighting,” Doctor Stevens says as she places a mask over my face. “Someone obviously didn’t think you were done living.”
Her words are the last thing I hear before I’m consumed by darkness.
I guess life really can change in a heartbeat. One minute, I’m walking toward the light, and the next, everything is fading to black.
“I hate good-byes.”
“This isn’t good-bye,” I promise my mom.
“Of course it is.”
“No, it’s just… the end of an era.”
“I’m going to miss you so much,” she says, her voice breaking.
“I’m going to miss you, too.” I close my eyes and lean my head on my mom’s shoulder. Despite what I said, my arms wrapped around hers feel a lot like good-bye. Not just to my mom, but to a whole chapter of my life.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay a bit longer? I think you should. It’s only been six months since your transplant.”
“I’m sure. I have to do this.”
“No, you don’t.”
I laugh. “Mom. You know I’m finally able to take control of my life for the first time. I can’t let this opportunity go.”
Her eyes smile. “When did you get so wise?”
“Hmm. I think it was somewhere between living and dying.”
She brushes away an invisible piece of lint on my shoulder. “I just feel like we haven’t had enough time, you know? You were ill for so long. I’ve spent twenty-two years thinking time was running out, and it was, just not in the way I thought. All the things I planned for us to do together if you ever received a transplant are slipping out of my grasp.”
“We can still do those things.”
My mom shakes her head. “It won’t be the same. So much has changed in so little time. I have you whole and healthy for the first time, and now you’re leaving.”
“I’m only moving forty minutes away.”
She starts to fuss with my messy ponytail. “I know. I just worry about you, that’s all. At least here, I can keep an eye on you. Who’s going to look after you? Who’ll make sure you remember to take your rejection meds every day? Who’ll make sure you’re eating right? Who’ll—?”
“I’ve got her, Ms. M,” Finn says, slinging his arm around my shoulder. Releasing a breath, I lean into him.
“I know, Finley sweetheart. But someone needs to look out for you, too. I worry about you both in that big apartment alone. Neither of you knows anything about living in the real world.” The comment strikes a chord; truth, fear, and excitement sound through my bones in perfect harmony. I glance up at Finn, knowing he’s hearing the same silent tune. He pulls me in closer.
“We’ll look after each other. We’ve got this, I promise. You know I’ll take care of our girl. We almost lost her; no way will I let that happen again.” His voice rings with sincerity.
Mom sighs. “Okay. I’m going to trust you both.”
Finn releases me to press a quick kiss to my mom’s cheek. “I just finished loading the last box into the car, so I’m ready when you are, Ave.”
Nodding, I close my eyes and take a cleansing breath. Opening them, they land on my safety. But I don’t want safe. Not anymore.
As much as I treasure the solid earth she’s planted beneath my feet, I long for the unknown depths of the sea. I want to drown in thunderstorms and rainy days. I want to fly too close to the sun and burn. I want to learn from my mistakes. But I can only do that by making them.
“I’ll wait in the car,” Finn mutters, squeezing my shoulder as he walks away.
My eyes drift from my tearful mom to the colorful San Francisco apartment building behind her that I’ve lived in for most of my life.
Pulling my mom into another hug, I hold on as tight as I can. “I love you,” I whisper into her ear. “Thank you for everything.”
“I should be the one thanking you.”
“What for?” I ask as we part. She takes my hand.
“For being the best daughter anyone could ask for. For keeping me company and making me laugh. For indulging my overprotective ways.” She laughs. “Look at that face. You think I don’t know how crazy I drive you?”
“I… uh… you don’t…” I stutter my denial.
Her girlish giggle brings a smile to my own face. “I know I’ve been overprotective, but all I’ve ever wanted is to keep you safe and alive. I’d do it all again if it would bring us to this point, you standing in front of me, happy and healthy, ready to fly the nest. It’s something I dreamed of, but never thought I’d be able to see. I’m so proud of you, Ava.”
Leaning into the hug, I absorb all the love, comfort, and wisdom I can, stocking up on them like supplies for a road trip. I guess I am embarking on a journey of sorts.
“Okay. Time to let you go.” She pushes back her shoulders and I see acceptance settle over her beautiful face. She squeezes our joined hands as I begin to pull away.
“You’re my heart,” I whisper, stepping backward.
Her eyes crinkle in the corners when she smiles. “And you’re mine.”
The chord tying me to the earth is cut as our hands break apart. I’m set free into the world.
“Hey, Mom?” I call out, walking backward in the direction of the car.
“Yes?”
“You know you said the nest would be emptier without me in it?”
She nods, and despite the growing distance, I can see her frown.
“Maybe you should find someone else to fill it with.” I make a shamelessly unsubtle nod of my head to Aidan who is standing on the steps of the apartment building behind my mom. I’d said good-bye to him earlier. His lips twitch into a smile as a blush spreads across my mom’s cheeks. She flicks a quick, shy glance back at Aidan before turning back to face me with a reprimanding look.
Stretching my arms out by my side, I throw my head back and laugh up at the sky. The lyrical sound echoes through the wind. Above me, birds swoop and soar, relishing their liberty. My grin widens, and I swear, the sky smiles back.
Blowing a kiss to my mom, I turn around and walk forward with a skip in my step. With a final glance over my shoulder, I wave good-bye to my old life. To the old me. The new heart inside my chest beats steady and strong.
“You ready for this?” Finn asks as I buckle my seatbelt.
I think about it for a second, knowing this means everything. Am I ready to live?
I turn to him and smile. “Yes. You?”
He winks and shifts the car into drive. “Only one way to find out.”
A few hours later, I’m unpacking boxes in my new room. Singing along to the radio, I’m overcome by a sudden rush of excitement. My repressed childish spirit takes over. In a moment of unguarded, juvenile abandon, I throw myself onto the bed and start to jump like I used to watch kids do in movies, but was never well enough to do myself.
Each second of weightlessness is empowering. Althoug
h the low ceiling is just above my head, if I close my eyes, I could almost touch the sky. My hair flies wild and free around my face, hitting my shoulders whenever I come back down to earth.
I open my eyes at the knock on my door, but I don’t stop jumping. Finn raises an eyebrow and chuckles when he sees where all the noise is coming from.
“Join me!” I shout through my laughter.
Grinning, he shakes his head at my antics. My true partner in crime, he toes off his shoes and joins me on the bed, no questions asked.
“We’re probably going to break it, you know.”
“Oh come on, Finn! Live dangerously.”
He laughs. “We’re such rebels, jumping on the bed.”
“Got to start somewhere.”
“True.”
After a while, we both tire and hop down to sit on the edge of the bed, gasping for breath. My heart is beating out of control, but I know it’s normal. Well, my new normal. I’m still adjusting to this new situation and body of mine.
I stare at the plain white wall, overwhelmed by the blank canvas in front of me.
“What now?” I ask Finn.
Understanding my true meaning, he places his warm hand over mine. “Honestly? I have no idea.”
I smile and nudge his shoulder. “You’ve had longer at this living thing than I have. I’m counting on you to show me where to go from here.”
“Isn’t that the point of all of this? The fact our futures are now wide open?”
“I guess. But a road map or a general sense of direction would be nice.” I sigh.
“I thought you were excited about this? You were bouncing off the walls when I came in. What’s changed in the last two minutes?”
“I think it just hit me all at once. Don’t get me wrong, I’m so excited to take control of my life, but it’s really starting to sink in. We’re on our own now. No more cotton wool.”
“That’s what we’ve always wanted, though.”
“I know. It’s just… I have no idea who I am, Finn. I haven’t even started the journey and I’m already lost.”
He’s uncharacteristically quiet as he thinks over my confession. “You know what I think?”
This Old Heart of Mine Page 2
