See Through Heart

by Amie Knight

  The nurses, the physical therapists, and the doctors who visited Lori’s room threw looks of pity our way, and I grew to loathe them. I reveled in the silence of the room when they weren’t poking and prodding at her. When they weren’t there feeling sorry for us, they were still unable to do absolutely fucking anything to help us. Wake up.

  Adrian tried to soothe me, but as the days passed, I grew angrier and angrier. God was giving us a raw deal. I didn’t want to be soothed. I wanted to yell and shout. I wanted to tear this fucking hospital to the ground. I found myself snapping at everyone. Nurses didn’t even try to make small talk with me anymore. Miranda and Momma tried to talk me down, but there was nothing they could say. How had this happened? How would I ever get over it? I should have been at that fucking party. This all could have been prevented had I been there. I didn’t even remember if I’d told her that I loved her before she’d left that morning. I hadn’t even tried to get in touch with her when she hadn’t texted me back. This was all my fault. I couldn’t even tell my Momma. I was too ashamed. I had done this. Let me out.

  The posturing continued to worsen. Her brain couldn’t even control her body temperature, so her fever would spike to ungodly highs. Doctors couldn’t take her off the vent because she wasn’t breathing on her own at all. Her brown eyes were no longer brown. She would involuntarily open them, her pupils blown, and they were as black as night. Soulless. Faith and hope left the building as each day passed and Lori’s body continued to fail. Her back and her neck bowed and her teeth clenched with the most frightening seizures I had ever seen in my life. It was sheer torture, and eventually, I just prayed for anything to happen. Life. Death. Anything. Because I couldn’t look at my favorite girl in the world like this one more day. I wanted to crawl into that bed and die right along with her.

  On the seventh day, the doctors snatched our tiny crumbs of hope away like thieves. They stole our faith. Our positivity. Our future.

  We were standing in the hall of the hospital. Adrian, Momma, Miranda, and I. The doctor put his hand on Momma’s shoulder and squeezed. He knew her. They had worked in the same small hospital for many years together.

  “Jessi, she’s not waking up,” he said. “She’s gone. There is too much brain damage. Her body is just on autopilot now. It’s time to take her off life support and let her go. It is the right thing to do.”

  Momma just nodded and stared blankly ahead at the wall. It was like she barely heard what he was saying. It scared me a little, so I kept watching her for a reaction.

  The doctor spoke again. “She’s brain-dead. There is no quality of life. It is time to make a decision. I am so sorry.” He squeezed her shoulder again and walked away.

  All of us were crying except my mom. Something was wrong. She just kept staring blankly.

  “Momma,” I choked out.

  Nothing.

  “Mom!” I yelled. Goddammit. What was happening?

  Before I could yell her name again, she was gone, running through the hall of the hospital. She ran for the stairwell, and we all took off after her. We followed her down six flights of stairs, down another hallway, and out of the hospital. Momma slammed the side door of the hospital open with a bang, threw herself to her knees on the sidewalk, and screamed into the air. She clawed at her neck with her nails. She pulled her hair. She yanked at every stitch of clothing. She yelled and howled herself hoarse, no end in sight. I was scared to death. Adrian was violently trying to stop her from hurting herself by holding her arms down, but his own body was brimming with pain. I could see it in the shaking of his shoulders. The tears on his face.

  I stood alone. Utterly numb. As if a movie were playing out in front of my eyes.

  “Nooo! Nooooooo!” she screamed over and over.

  Momma and Adrian were huddled on the ground. He was swaying her back and forth, whispering in her ear. I was already grief-stricken, but this? I couldn’t deal with. My momma’s anguished cries destroyed me. She was Lori’s momma in every sense of the word. It wasn’t the right way of things, losing a child. It was backwards and unexpected. And just plain fucking misery.

  In the midst of all of this, I heard a strange keening sound from somewhere else. I looked around for the noise. Miranda was quietly crying next to me, whispering, “Oh my God,” over and over again. Who was making that awful noise?

  The parking lot next to us was empty save for a few cars. It was getting louder. I hated that sound. It was awful. All of a sudden, I realized—it was me. I was screeching at the top of my lungs. I couldn’t stop it. Oh, God, make it stop. I couldn’t stand to look at the hospital. The place that housed my worst nightmare come true. That place of our hope and failure. I couldn’t look at these broken people around me. We were ruined forever. Completely shattered. How would we ever be fixed? How could we ever move on? There were too many people with too many pieces. We were bits of fragile glass splintered all over the property of this God-forsaken place. We were irreparably fractured. There was no hope. I wanted to sweep us up and throw us all away.

  “I should have been at that fucking party, Adrian.”

  Adrian was driving my truck, and I was riding shotgun beside him. We were on our way to the hospital. Rain loudly splattered on the windshield. Wind howled. Thunder boomed, and streaks of lightning lit the sky. It was fitting because this storm and I? We were the same—turbulent, angry, out of control. Momma was waiting on us at the hospital. We were saying goodbye to Lori, and I was spoiling for a fight. I was mad at the world and wanted to take it out on the person I loved most. Adrian.

  After we had calmed Momma down and made arrangements with the doctors the day before, we had come home, barely eaten dinner, and pretended to sleep. What we had really done was stay up all night and wish for a miracle.

  Adrian’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, but he didn’t look my way. He stared through the windshield at the water-logged road and said firmly, “Don’t do that, Ains. Don’t play the blame game. It’s a dead-end road and it won’t fix a damn thing. Hell, you might as well blame Miranda for not finding her soon enough or the twins for having the party in the first place. How about your mom? She didn’t make her stay home. Or me? What about me? I should have been at that party too, right?”

  He was right. Blaming myself and everyone else did nothing to help our situation. It wouldn’t bring Lori back, but it sure made me feel better in my rage. It fed it. Sent it higher. And I was clinging to that rage to get me through. That violent feeling inside me was the only thing keeping the crippling grief at bay, so I held on to it with both hands.

  “That’s right. You should have,” I spat at him. “You should have been there.”

  I wanted him angry like I was. I needed it.

  The truck lurched to the side of the road. Adrian stomped on the parking brake, unbuckled my belt, and yanked me over the console and onto his lap. The rain pounded against the windows. The wind shook the car. He pulled me close and kissed the top of my head.

  “I won’t let you do this,” he said into my hair. “I won’t let you push me away. I won’t let you hide your grief. I sure as hell won’t fight with you. I see you, Sunshine. I see your pain. Cry. Yell at the top of your lungs. But this thing you’re doing now? It isn’t happening. It just isn’t. We are all hurting. We need to be there for each other, not tear each other down.” He kissed my mouth hard and quick and then placed me back in my seat. He grabbed my seat belt and buckled me back in. He pulled the car back on the road and didn’t say a word more.

  I looked out the window, studying the storm, my anger fading. The anguish of what we had to do rippled under my skin, trying to get out. It was nauseating.

  When we arrived at the hospital, Momma was waiting for us with Lori. Dread pooled thickly in my gut, but I needed to hold it together for my momma. I could tell she was holding on by the tiniest of threads. I feared that one emotional outburst from me might push her over the fragile edge of sanity. I couldn’t freak out. Someone had to be strong.
/>   We said our goodbyes. Momma, Miranda, Adrian and I. One at a time, we went in and had a few last moments with our girl. I was the very last one to go in. I leaned down to smell her hair one last time, reminiscing about mornings cuddled in bed when we were children. But it didn’t smell like sweet shampoo anymore. It smelled like disinfectant. Like vitamins. Like mortality. Like a hospital. The same way my momma would smell every day when she walked in the door from work. A smell that used to comfort me. Now, it just made me sick. I kissed her cracked lips over and over around the tube in her mouth. I pressed my lips to the dimple in her chin. I looked at her long and hard. She had changed so much in just seven days. Her once vibrant face was now slack and lifeless. I crawled into bed with her and tried to hug her as best as I could around all the tubes and wires.

  “How can you leave me?” I whispered into her ear. “I don’t know if I can stay here without you.” I gripped her tighter and sobbed into her hair. “I love you, Loralie. I’m so mad at you. I’m mad at myself too. For not being there for you. Forgive me. Please.” I prayed to God she could hear me. And then I cried until I couldn’t cry anymore. When my tears were dried up and gone, I reluctantly let Lori go and got up.

  I wasn’t ready, but it was time.

  The doctors removed all life support and made her as comfortable as possible. I took solace in the fact that she didn’t suffer long. She went quickly. It took only an hour to lose something I had cherished for more than sixteen years. It took only an hour for the tiny fissure in my heart to split wide open and break into two.

  Adrian: I’ll be over tonight around 9. Love you, Sunshine.

  I was busy playing my violin when he texted. I played. I played and played and played. All the time. My violin was the only thing keeping me sane these days. It had been two weeks since Lori’s funeral, but it felt like two years. The whole town had come out to pay their condolences. All except Lori’s momma. Which was fine with me. She had no business being there anyway.

  I didn’t want to see Adrian tonight. I had gotten to the point where I didn’t want to see him at all, and I felt bad about it because it wasn’t his fault. He had been patient, kind, and loving in every way I’d let him. He came over every night and curled himself around me until I fell asleep. Momma said nothing about his campouts in my room. I didn’t know if she let him stay over because she thought I needed him or if she was just too deeply engrossed in her grief to care.

  I had pushed through my own suffering and put on a brave front during the entirety of the funeral and since. I was pretending to be strong, but inside, I was a maelstrom of emotions. I was riddled with guilt and plagued with heartache, but I put my frozen face on every day. I played my violin until the pads of my fingers burned and ached and my back and my neck were stiff. It was the only time I didn’t think about or miss Lori. My music was my safe place, and when Adrian was with me, I couldn’t play. I didn’t want him there.

  When I saw his face, I pictured Lori’s. I thought of her calling him Blue. I remembered him throwing her in the pool. I remembered him pushing her on the swing. I remembered the locket, which was God knows where. His face made me remember. Just like Momma’s face. Just like the damn cat’s face. Just like that fucking creek. Just like this house. Just like that ugly, rusty, blue swing set in the backyard. I was growing to hate this place. I hadn’t even heard from Miranda since the funeral. I knew she was hurting too. She had found Lori but hadn’t been able to save her. I couldn’t imagine what she was going through, but I could barely get myself out of bed every morning. What could I possibly do to help her?

  It only took one week of remembering and hurting before I put my plans into action. I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t stay there. It hurt too damn much. I needed out. So I played my violin like a fiend and pretended this damn town, this house, and these people weren’t smothering me in despair. My only consolation was knowing that my time there was limited.

  I texted Adrian back because, even though I couldn’t stand to look at his face, I still loved him fiercely. He was my everything. It pained me to love and loathe him so. It was the worst kind of torture.

  Me: OK. See you then.

  I didn’t know why he was putting up with me. Even I could recognize that I was just a shadow of the girl he loved. I lived in a fog of agony and barely spoke. I struggled to smile, and I never laughed. How could he love me like this? What if I never got better? He would never leave me. He was too good. I’d ruin him.

  I knew what I had to do, but there was one last thing I needed before I could do it.

  I put my violin away, stripped to my panties, and climbed into bed to wait on Adrian. The room was dark save for one small night-light coming from the bathroom connected to my room. I rubbed my hands over the clean, cool sheets of my twin bed and contemplated what I was about to do. I needed this time with Adrian, so I would take it. And maybe one day he wouldn’t hate me. Maybe he would forgive me. It was a gamble I was willing to take. I had been waiting for this moment with this boy almost my entire life. Yes, my momma was at work. Yes, it would have to be in my small twin bed. But I’d make sure it wasn’t quick and sloppy.

  I heard Adrian shut the front door, and my eyes flew to my alarm clock on my nightstand. 8:58 p.m. My sweet, reliable boy. He’d never let me down. I felt a flicker of guilt burn me up, but I wasn’t backing out now. I needed him. I heard Adrian come in to my room, toe his sneakers off, and take his shirt off. I heard the click of his glasses being placed on the nightstand. I felt him pull the covers back and climb in behind me. He pressed the front of his long, lean body to the back of my short, soft body and sighed into my hair.

  I rolled over to face Adrian and took in his blue eyes as they assessed me. Those eyes had lost their shine lately. He looked tired, weary, and sad. I knew he was grieving in his own way, but he hardly ever let me see. He was too busy trying to make me okay. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I’d never be the same. That I was broken. That I couldn’t be fixed.

  Adrian looked down at my naked torso in shock. “What the hell, Ainsley?” he said.

  I pushed my bare chest against his and ran a hand through his gorgeous hair. I committed the softness of it against my hand to memory. I softly placed my lips against his, and Adrian let out a pained groan. I rubbed my body along his and slipped my tongue into his mouth, ready to make more memories, but Adrian pulled back and grabbed my face with both hands.

  “What are you doing, Ains?” he asked. He looked confused and a little angry. “You aren’t ready for this. This isn’t going to fix things. Go put a shirt on and come back to bed.” He rolled onto his back and took a few deep breaths.

  I didn’t get out of bed. Instead, I laid my head on Adrian’s chest and ran my fingers over every bump and ridge of his torso. I lifted up on my elbow and grabbed his face in my hand. I kissed him long and hard and then leaned my forehead to his.

  “Please. Pretend with me, Adrian.” It was wrong and manipulative. I knew that those words would wrap around his heart. I knew he’d give me whatever I wanted if I used them. “Let’s pretend we are just a boy and a girl in love. That our lives aren’t encompassed in overwhelming sorrow and heartbreak. That we aren’t swimming in a never-ending sea of grief. Please, let me have this. This moment of beautiful in all of this ugly,” I begged him.

  He rolled us both until he towered over me, the length of his body deliciously pressing me into the mattress. His expression was earnest and sincere as he said, “You don’t know it, Sunshine, but you saved me. And it may take some time, but I’ll save you too. I’ll make this better. I promise.” He’d said it so powerfully, so strongly, that I almost believed him.

  “Please, Adrian,” I begged.

  His lips captured mine and branded me. I vowed never to forget the taste of him, the smell of him. Never to forget how his mouth sent me soaring. He slowly caressed every inch of my bare skin with his mouth and his hands, savoring me like I was a rare gift. And, when he pulled his briefs down, exposing
himself to me, I stared at this breathtaking man’s body until it was down pat in my mind’s eye. I didn’t want to forget one inch of Adrian’s frame. I’d need those memories soon.

  I’d remember the sinful weight of him between my legs.

  The tears in our eyes as he broke through my virginity and gave me his own.

  The stunning fullness of him seated so completely inside me.

  The rawness of being completely uninhibited.

  The sound of our breaths and moans echoing off each other.

  The heat of the fire that raced through me as my orgasm took hold.

  The flush of his skin as his orgasm chased my own.

  The gravelly sound of his voice as he whispered his love for me.

  I’d remember it all.

  Afterwards, I lay facing Adrian, tracing every line on his pretty face until he fell asleep. I lay just like that all night, watching him sleep, until four a.m. rolled around. Then I quietly and carefully got out of bed and slipped on jean shorts, a T-shirt, and flip-flops. I grabbed my violin, my phone, and the envelope from my bedside table before taking one long last look at Adrian, who was still sleeping in my bed, and walked to my momma’s room. I slipped the envelope under her closed door. Then I made my way out of the house and to my truck in the drive. I climbed in beside two large duffel bags and laid my violin on top of them. I cranked the truck, spared my childhood home one last glance, and tore off into the night like a thief. Because that’s what I was. I had stolen something precious from Adrian, but I didn’t regret it one bit. I would need those memories, so I had taken them.

  I had taken them all and I would put them in a tiny box. Every smell, every sound, every ache, every feeling. I would put them inside, lock it up tight, and store them safely in my heart. Because there would be days I would be so lonely, so sad, missing home and missing Adrian so much, that I would need to bring that box out and open it. So that I could remember and continue on. So that I could recall what it felt like to be loved and to love in return.