His Heart

by Claire Kingsley

  My chest tightened and my breath felt suddenly labored. I tried to keep my face from showing discomfort. It was just a flutter—nothing too bad. Cami’s eyebrows drew together and she watched me while I breathed through it.

  “I’m fine,” I said when I was sure I could sound normal.

  “You’re not fine,” she said. “You’re pale. And those things are happening more than they used to.”

  “They’re not serious,” I said.

  She tilted her head. “Yes they are, Sebastian.”

  We weren’t starting this date on the right note. I didn’t want to fight with her. “I know, sweetie. I’m doing everything the doctors tell me.”

  “And you’re still sick,” she said.

  “Are you saying I’m doing something to make myself sick?” I asked. “Because, believe me, at this point I’d do anything if it meant I’d get better.”

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying.” She brushed her hair back from her face. “It’s just been a long time.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  “I keep waiting for the old Sebastian to come back,” she said. “You used to be so… so different.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say to her. Of course I was different. I’d been through hell. What did she expect? “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

  She took a deep breath. “Sebastian, I don’t think this is working.”

  “What?”

  “I think we need to break up.”

  I stared at her, my mouth partially open. “You wanted to have dinner with me on our anniversary so you could break up with me?”

  “Oh my god, it’s our anniversary?” she asked.

  What the fuck? “Yeah, I kissed you for the first time three years ago today. We didn’t really celebrate it last year because everything was so crazy. But you didn’t know that?”

  “How can you expect me to keep track of something like that with everything else I’ve been through?” she asked. “It’s been horrible, Sebastian. I was there, remember? I saw you collapse. And every day since, I’ve been worried that it’s going to happen again.”

  “So your solution is to break up?” I asked.

  “I can’t handle it anymore.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “It’s too much. I can only see you if I put in all the effort. You barely have enough energy to go to your classes, let alone spend any time with me. I mean, god, when was the last time we had sex? I don’t even know.”

  “What?” I asked. “Jesus, Cami, I’m doing my best.”

  “I know you are,” she said. “But I fell for the old Sebastian. The guy who was big and strong. Who manhandled his opponents on the mat. He was kind of cocky, and so sure of himself. And we could actually do things. I’ve tried, Sebastian. Ever since state, I’ve tried to hold it together. But it’s too hard. Being with someone who’s sick all the time is too stressful. I’m not cut out for it.”

  I blinked at her, trying to process what she was saying. She was breaking up with me. Our relationship, over. She wasn’t going to stick this out with me.

  “Are you serious?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “I’m sorry. Maybe if things were different…”

  “Yeah, if things were different. If I had a heart that fucking worked.”

  “Sebastian, it’s not your fault,” she said. “But this is how things turned out.”

  “Believe me, I know it’s not my fault.” I stood. My chest felt tight, but not because of a fibrillation. “It’s fine, Cami. Go find yourself a guy who can make you happy. Because I sure as fuck can’t.”

  I walked away without waiting to hear her reply. I didn’t want to look at her anymore. How could I have been such an idiot? It was so obvious. She hadn’t been hoping I’d propose. She’d been trying to figure out how to break up with me.

  Wishing I had the energy to walk all the way home, I hopped on a bus. My mind was restless. Walking across campus would have done me a lot of good, but I knew I’d only exhaust myself. My heart couldn’t work that hard.

  The ache in my chest spread and my gut churned with emotion. Disappointment. Rejection. Sadness. My friends had mostly drifted away, but I’d thought Cami would be the one who’d stick by me. I’d thought she loved me enough. Obviously I’d been wrong.

  Or maybe I just wasn’t worth loving through something like this.

  9

  Brooke

  March. Age eighteen.

  I loved the beginning of spring. The weather was warm, but not too hot, and everything began to bloom. Citrus trees spilled their fragrances into the air and the mountainsides were covered in wildflowers. Liam and I sat at an outdoor table on campus, enjoying the weather. He was intent on studying for his physics test, and I was working on revisions to an essay on the women’s suffrage movement I had to write for my history class.

  We only had about two months left before the school year would be over. Finals week was at the beginning of May. But we’d decided to stay in our apartment through the summer and both take a couple of classes. Liam wanted to get more prerequisites out of the way so he could apply to the school of engineering. And I figured if Liam was going to be in school anyway, I might as well take some classes too.

  I eyed the paper I was writing. I’d been over it a dozen times. I probably needed to call it finished and stop tinkering. At this point, I was just wasting time, and I had a math test to think about.

  My phone rang and I pulled it out of my backpack. Liam’s eyes lifted. I looked at the screen, but didn’t recognize the number.

  I shrugged at Liam as I answered. “Hello?”

  “Brooke?”

  I sat bolt upright in my chair, my back stiffening. I recognized that voice. It was coded into my very DNA. My mother.

  “Mom?” I asked.

  Liam’s eyes widened and he closed his book, his face intent on me.

  “Yeah, baby,” she said. “You still have the same number.”

  Her words were garbled—hard to make out. She was wasted. On what, I couldn’t tell. But hearing her like that was a punch in the stomach. I hadn’t talked to her since she’d moved—well over a year ago. Deep down, I’d hoped losing me might finally make her get herself together. That maybe something would change.

  “Yeah, I have the same number,” I said. “Where are you?”

  I heard something muffled, and a man’s voice in the background before she answered. “Louisiana, baby. It’s beautiful here.”

  “That’s great,” I said. “I’m sure it is.”

  “You should come,” she said. “I’ve got it all figured out. Marcus has a big house and plenty of money. I don’t even have to work. I’ve got a bedroom all ready for you. It will be good this time, Brooke. I swear.”

  I stared at the table, tears stinging my eyes. What was she talking about? Louisiana? Who the hell was Marcus? My stomach churned and I felt a little bit like I might vomit.

  “Um, I can’t come to Louisiana,” I said. “I have school.”

  “School?” She laughed. “You didn’t flunk out or something, did you? Aren’t you done?”

  “No, Mom, I didn’t flunk out,” I said. Liam’s expression hardened. “I graduated from high school last year. I’m in college now.”

  “I see,” she said. “A big college girl, too good for us uned… uned… uneducated tramps, huh?”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  She snorted. “Where the fuck did you come from? Are you sure you’re my daughter?”

  Her words made my throat close up and I couldn’t choke out a reply.

  Liam grabbed the phone from me. “Desiree, don’t call Brooke again.”

  She said something to him that I couldn’t hear.

  “You’ve done enough damage. Just leave her alone.” He hung up and put the phone down. “Come here, Bee.”

  I got up and slipped into his lap, putting my head on his shoulder. He rubbed slow circles across my back. A few tears fell, leaving spots of moisture on his shirt.

&n
bsp; “I’m going to take care of you, Bee,” he said. “You don’t have to worry about her, okay?”

  I nodded and sat up, wiping beneath my eyes. “I just wish she was different. She’s my mom. Why didn’t she love me enough to be a good mother?”

  Liam touched my cheek. “Bee, it’s not because of you. It’s her. She’s messed up. And she doesn’t deserve you.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “I do,” he said. “Come on, let’s go get something to eat. Maybe tacos will cheer you up.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “Tacos are good.”

  “See? That’s my girl.” He grinned. “Besides, I have something special planned for us tonight.”

  “Oh yeah? What?”

  He tapped my nose. “It’s a surprise. But it’s something to look forward to. Don’t think about her. She doesn’t matter anymore. It’s you and me, now.”

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. He always knew how to make everything better.

  The sun was setting as we drove out into the desert. Liam still had the pickup truck his parents had helped him buy back in high school. We had a to-go bag of cheeseburgers and fries in between us, the smell filling the cab. My stomach rumbled and I hoped we’d get to wherever we were going soon.

  I was still a little rattled after the phone call from my mom. No matter how often Liam tried to assure me that I didn’t need her, it didn’t change the fact that she was my mother. Hearing her voice had reassured me that my worst fear for her—that she had died—hadn’t happened. But knowing she was repeating the same mistakes, just in a different place, was so disappointing. I didn’t know why I’d expected anything else. She’d been doing the same thing her entire adult life.

  But I couldn’t help nurturing the hope that maybe someday, she’d get better.

  Liam turned to me with a mischievous grin, and I tried to put thoughts of my mom out of my mind.

  “So, are you going to tell me what we’re doing?” I asked. “Or are we just going out to eat cheeseburgers in the middle of the desert?”

  He didn’t answer, just smiled. His blue eyes sparkled.

  About ten minutes later, he pulled off the road and stopped. Without saying a word, he grabbed our dinner and got out. I followed and we both climbed into the bed of his truck.

  Immediately, I looked up. The sun had set and the stars twinkled against the backdrop of the night sky.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said.

  “So beautiful.”

  I glanced at him, but he wasn’t looking up. He was looking at me.

  We ate our dinner and chatted. We talked about our summer plans, and the coming year. Olivia had decided to go to ASU with us in the fall. Her parents were already planning a graduation party. It sounded like it was going to be fun.

  Then we talked about the future. About a book we’d both read and what we thought it meant. About the places we wanted to visit, and whether we thought we’d be dog people or cat people, or something else entirely.

  When we finished, Liam took the wrappers and stuffed them back in the bag.

  “Do you remember the first time we did this?” he asked.

  “How could I not?”

  He smiled. “My life changed that night. From the first time I kissed you, nothing has been the same.”

  “Yeah, for me too,” I said. He thought his life had changed? Liam had swept into my life and rescued me. He’d saved me from the hell my mom still lived in.

  “I have something for you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box.

  A wave of excitement poured through me, making my skin tingle and my heart race. Oh my god. Could that be…? It was so unexpected.

  “I know we’re young,” he said. “So this isn’t meant to be something we rush into. If you say yes, we can finish school first and all that. But I also want you to know that you’re it for me, Bee. I don’t want anyone else, ever. You’re my life, and I want you to be with me for the rest of it.”

  He opened the box and my breath caught in my throat. The ring was a simple gold band with a shimmery light blue opal. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

  “Brooke Summerlin, my sweet Bee, will you marry me?”

  I met his eyes and smiled, my eyes filling with tears. “Yes.”

  He took the ring and slid it on my finger, then leaned in and pressed his lips against mine. My eyes fluttered closed. We were young, but I knew it too. Liam and I were going to be together for the rest of our lives.

  10

  Sebastian

  March. Age twenty.

  I hated hospitals.

  Twenty-four days ago, I’d woken up here. The thing I’d feared for the past two years—that I’d have another ventricular fibrillation and my heart would stop—had happened. Fortunately for me, it had been at home and Charlie had been there. He’d reacted fast, calling 911, and the paramedics had arrived quickly enough to revive me.

  I wasn’t even twenty-one years old, and I’d needed to have my heart shocked into beating again—twice.

  This time, there weren’t any more drugs to give me. Over the past two years, they’d tried everything there was to try. I was on the maximum dosages, and the side effects had only gotten worse.

  My only option had been open-heart surgery to implant what they called a VAD—a device that would shock my heart into working when I had fibrillations. Despite a lot of advances in medical technology, this thing seemed archaic. When they’d first told me I’d need it, I’d assumed it would be something small and entirely internal.

  The reality was, I did have a device inside my chest, attached to my left ventricle. But I also had a port where a cable exited my body just below my ribs, and I would have to wear a battery pack and control unit all the time. While I recovered from the surgery, they sat next to me, but as soon as I went home, I’d have them strapped to me like a small backpack.

  The worst part was, I’d had my chest cut wide open, and it wasn’t going to fix me. They’d only implanted the device because I needed something to keep me alive.

  It was only March, but I’d already withdrawn from school. That pissed me off as much as anything. I was so close to finishing my sophomore year. Just a few more months, and I would have been able to go home for the summer, another semester complete. Now I’d had to drop my classes and I’d need to retake them when I got better.

  If I got better.

  I couldn’t keep saying when I got better. It was a big if. My heart had continued to weaken, and the doctors now considered me in a state of heart failure. Hearing that had nearly made my mom faint, and even my dad had turned white with shock.

  The only option I had left for long term survival was a transplant. Three weeks ago, just before the surgery to implant the VAD, they’d officially put me on the list. Shit had gotten real.

  I’d listened to the transplant coordinator with a strange sense of detachment. I’d heard things about blood and tissue types, numbers of candidates, chances of finding a match, conditions for acceptance. But all I’d been able to think was How can this be happening to me? How had I gotten so sick that I needed a new heart in order to live?

  My incisions hurt and my chest felt heavy and sore. I could have more pain relievers if I wanted, but I didn’t. They left me feeling drugged and stupid. I hated it.

  I hated a lot of things these days. Hated that I had to quit school and move home. Hated that my ex-girlfriend was dating one of the top wrestlers at U of I. Hated that I was on a first-name basis with most of the cardiology staff at the hospital. Hated that I’d have a huge scar running down the center of my chest from a procedure that was only meant to keep me going until they could cut me open again.

  Mostly, I hated that I was dying.

  Charlie came in, his coat wet from rain. “Hey, man. Ready to go?”

  “Yeah.” I slowly sat forward, pulling myself up on the sides of the hospital bed so I didn’t put too much strain on my chest. It fucking hurt, but I
didn’t do more than grunt. “Let’s get out of here.”

  I’d been home—or at least, Charlie’s home; I wasn’t going to be able to live there anymore—three times for increasing durations. It was part of the recovery process. I had to learn how to live with the VAD. So I’d needed to complete practice runs away from the hospital before I’d been fully released.

  Now I was ready to get the fuck out. I strapped on my battery pack and control unit and adjusted the straps so they were secure. Charlie helped me into my coat—an old one that was big on me now, but the size made getting in and out of it easier.

  My parents had planned to pick me up from the hospital, especially since I was going to their house in Waverly for the time being. But they were getting a new hospital-style bed for me to use—because apparently that was my life now—so Charlie had offered to drive me home.

  A nurse wheeled me out to Charlie’s car—it wasn’t his old pickup truck that he loved so much. He’d borrowed his parents’ sedan. I was glad; his truck was bumpy as hell and I was in enough pain as it was.

  Everything looked different on the drive from Iowa City to Waverly. I’d been on this highway countless times, but I saw things through new eyes. Even my hometown seemed different now. The gray sky dimmed the light of the sun and washed out the landscape. Faded and dull, just like me.

  I thought about my old friends, going on with their lives. They were training for their sports, studying for tests, fucking their girlfriends or hooking up with random girls they met at parties. Living the college life. I thought about Cami, who had moved on so quickly, she’d been dating someone new within days of breaking up with me.

  She hadn’t loved me enough to watch me die.

  I didn’t want to be bitter. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life—whether it would be measured in days, months, or years—being angry. But it was hard not to be.

  My life was being cut short. I was still alive—for now—but I couldn’t actually live. I couldn’t go to school or work. Couldn’t hang out with friends. I was barely on the edge of adulthood and I was going to miss it. Miss falling in love—maybe for real this time. Miss having a family of my own.