Pieces of Me

by Amber Kizer

  She stepped back and finished unpacking her hospital luggage. The next time she packed these bags she would be going to the airport and heading out on a grand adventure. Not going in for a biopsy. From now on, for medical, she’d take a toothbrush and a pair of pajamas with her. No longer would she bide her time between physical breakdowns; she refused to calculate her life by appointments anymore. Tomorrow, she and her mom would go shopping for a prom dress. Just for fun.

  When the doorbell rang, Vivian hoped for a second it was Leif. But she had no idea where to begin repairing the damage or how to explain that the buttons he’d pushed were the most painful. She took her time, assuming it was a UPS delivery or a kid selling candy for summer camp.

  It was Leif. Vivian’s mouth went dry and she gripped the banister so she wouldn’t fall.

  Yep, Prince Charming is here. Open the door.

  He pressed the doorbell again and the chime reverberated through the house.

  “Hi.” Vivian opened the front door and leaned against it.

  “Look, I know you’re mad at me. And you can yell at me or throw things or whatever later, but I need you to call a truce for a little while and help a friend.”

  She swung open the door. “I call truce if those sweet peas are for me.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He thrust them forward. “Cassidy said they were your favorite.”

  “You went there?”

  “You’re usually working.”

  “Having a home day.”

  “So, I saw you with a credit card, right?”

  “Romantic opener.” She raised her eyebrows. “Yeah? So?”

  Leif launched into the story of Sam and what he knew about Misty.

  “Come on.” Vivian dragged him up the stairs. “It sounds like she’s rejecting the liver. You can’t stop taking the meds, Leif, they’re the only thing that keeps the body from turning on the organ. She’s going to die if she doesn’t get treatment.” Vivian stopped.

  Leif touched her shoulder. “What aren’t you saying?”

  Vivian filled with a hopeless bleakness (Pantone Cool Gray 7). “It might be too late if she’s not getting checkups and tests. They monitor me so carefully. You’ve seen some of the pills I take.”

  “Those aren’t for your CF? She’d need to take those too?”

  “Most of them are for the transplants. People don’t understand, Leif, but an organ transplant isn’t the end of the story, it’s the beginning.”

  It isn’t the end, but the beginning? Why did that resonate so deeply within me? Was my end simply a new beginning?

  “Can you loan me the money to get Samuel a plane ticket?”

  “Consider it a gift. If she has a chance at this, she has to have all the support she can get.”

  They headed for the computer, and while Leif logged into MiracleMakers and pinged Samuel, Vivian pulled up a travel app on her tablet and checked for flights.

  PP: u take off yet?

  S: n

  packed

  any luck?

  PP: Let me video chat u

  so u can talk to Viv 2

  I was the only one who knew all four of these teens were connected, entwined by my pieces, connected by something bigger than me. It was odd seeing the three together, but much easier to keep track of all the events.

  There are so many different ways to live each moment. Seeing them together brought that home for me. They made each second unique because it was theirs to live.

  “Hi, Vivian.” Samuel appeared worried and unkempt.

  “Hi. How long will it take you to get to the airport?” she asked, without small talk.

  “About ten minutes. Ma rented this house based on proximity for traveling.”

  “Good. So if you leave now, you might make it through security in time for the next flight.”

  Leif leaned in to the screen. “I’ll meet you at the passenger exit at Sea-Tac.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you guys—”

  “Don’t thank us.” Vivian waved him off.

  “We’ll go to the address you gave us and see if she’s home,” Leif assured Samuel.

  Sam shook his head. “I don’t think she talked to me from home.”

  Vivian pulled up directions from her place to Misty’s. “This isn’t exactly a good neighborhood.”

  “They’re really poor, I think. Her parents work all the time, and her grandmother doesn’t speak any English.”

  “We’ll try to find her first. But I’ll definitely be at the airport, and we can hunt more if we need to.”

  “Thanks. I mean it.”

  “Okay, write this down. It’s your confirmation number.” Vivian rattled off the code.

  Samuel signed off and Leif sat next to Vivian in silence, both of them lost in their thoughts.

  “If she’s really that sick, do you think he’ll make it in time?” Leif asked.

  “I don’t know. I depends on how bad it is and if she wants to fight. Sounds like she’s losing the mental battle.” Vivian turned her hand over, palm up, in truce and invitation.

  “Is that why you live so much in the moment?” Leif’s fingers crept closer until their pinkies touched and twined.

  “Looking ahead is exhausting. When parts start to fail, it feels like—” She broke off.

  “Like what?”

  “You ever see those dominoes competitions where they spend days setting up a bunch of lines and then one little nudge and in seconds they’re all falling down?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I think sometimes it’s like that inside me, and when one thing goes wrong, it’s just a trigger for everything to start failing. And I can’t see inside, so I don’t know where to put my hand to fix it, or stop it, as if I’m along for a ride I don’t control. It’s going to end up with me dead sooner or later.”

  “If she feels out of control too—”

  “She may not think there is any point in trying to stop the dominoes from falling.” Vivian filled in the rest of the sentiment.

  “I like the portrait.” Leif pointed to the painting. “I like how you painted your future open for possibility.”

  “You see that?” Vivian asked, with no little awe.

  “Isn’t that what the blank part is?”

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For getting me.”

  “I’ll call you when I get to her apartment.” Leif stood.

  Vivian shook her head. “I’m going with you.”

  “No, you said yourself it’s not the best neighborhood.”

  “All the more reason to not go alone. Besides, you don’t know what she’s going through, and I do.”

  Though he didn’t look happy about it, Leif relented. “ ’Kay, let’s go.”

  There were lots of words for Misty’s part of town. The ghetto. Projects. Hood. Working-class poverty. But for Vivian it felt as if all the color had been sucked off everything and everyone, and left in shades of sepia tones (Pantone 16-1439 and 476). As if life were so demanding and unrelenting that even the colors were tired and droopy.

  Cinder blocks and bricks, concrete and cracked pavement beckoned them into cramped hallways and even-more-crowded rooms.

  Leif held Vivian’s hand, and he was the one who knocked.

  A young boy cracked the apartment door; his eye widened and he quickly opened the door, slipped out, and shut it behind him. “You know my sister?”

  “We’re trying to find her. To help her,” Vivian answered.

  “She’s not here. She’s spending a lot of time at the library.”

  “Is she sicker? Have you noticed anything?”

  He nodded. “I don’t think the transplant’s working. She’s not right. And I don’t think she went to her last doctor visit. She told my parents she has a job, but she doesn’t. She takes the mail away so they don’t see the numbers. She said it was none of my business but …” His eyes filled with tears and his expression made him look years younger, a child on the verge of youn
g adulthood, growing up too fast.

  “We’ll make it our business.”

  “Tell us, which library?” Vivian asked.

  “I’ll take you,” George answered.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Helpless. Samuel tried to raise his eyes, but he just kept staring at his shoes. He left his ma a detailed note about his plans and then walked a mile down the road and caught a free hotel shuttle to the airport. He blended into the traveling crowd; no one asked if he was a guest at the hotel. He’d packed light, only a backpack with all his meds, a change of clothes, fresh boxers and socks, and a few of his favorite prayer books. He’d grabbed a collection of Navajo prayers, Psalms from the Bible, and Buddhist meditations to read on the plane.

  When he collapsed into the window seat, Samuel prayed fervently that this aluminum contraption could defy logic and gravity and make it to Seattle without crashing.

  He’s not exactly a happy traveler. He’s scared to death of flying.

  Why had God brought Misty into his life, if not to save her? Samuel always felt God’s presence, but tonight there was no relaxing in his faith. And I hadn’t seen God hanging around.

  What purpose brought Sam and Misty together if not to lift her up? He wrestled without answers, so he turned to a childhood trick of asking the question and flipping open a text to see God’s answer.

  Good question, but … weird.

  Sam asked questions and randomly opened the texts. Over the years, he felt as though he found answers, strength, in the serendipity of unplanned words. He hesitated, hating the possibility he might read bad news; it was even hard to open the books.

  He knew God’s plan for him was special. That was why he kept a positive outlook. It was far easier to think that the unbearable was somehow reasonable if only he had all the information. He believed that if he’d died before the transplant, that would have served a purpose. His getting the organs served another purpose. He didn’t usually need to know the details for his life, for his peace of mind, but tonight Samuel wanted details. Lots of details.

  God remained silent.

  The books gave no clear directions.

  And even though I tried to speak, to touch his shoulder, to turn his overhead light off and on, my presence was unfelt too.

  Misty waited at the computer for an hour. Where was he?

  He’s on a plane coming to rescue you.

  She finished a crane, number 342, and tucked it high above the bookshelves, where it peeked down at the world below. What was it like to fly? To look down at all the suffering and stay above it? Misty wanted to come back in her next life as a crane. She saw the tartan-print crane nod at her and flap its wings in anticipation of taking off. It flew around the books and over her head before settling back into its nest.

  She’s hallucinating.

  When Sam didn’t answer, Misty wrote his name and email address on the outside of the bill binder, and rather than folding another crane, she picked up a pen and began a note. She wished it were a postcard, but the backside of the Story Time notice had to do.

  Dear Samuel,

  Misty paused, every thought taking crazy amounts of effort. Sweat dribbled down her back and along her hairline.

  Thank you. You were a good friend to me. I have always felt so alone, you made the world less lonely. I wish I had your strength to fight, but I don’t. I am sorry to disappoint you. More than you know. I have a favor. Please take care of my brother, George. He’ll need a friend, a brother. He needs you to make sure he has fun and go hear him play the piano. He’s a big brain, so smart he can do anything, but he’ll need support. Teach him the things I can’t. I’m afraid he’ll give it up. Please tell these doctors I am dead and that my parents can’t pay them. I hope they’ll forgive me. All of them. Think of me when you see birds dancing in the clouds. That’s where I am, swinging, flying high, free. Finally free. Forgive me for not being—

  She knows she’s dying. She might not understand the mechanics or the processes or why, but she feels it. I feel it.

  The library blinked its lights for closing, and rather than hide and huddle, Misty gathered her meager belongings and picked up one crane to carry home.

  She cradled that folded paper as if it were an egg, a fragile piece of porcelain, a living being. She walked past all the shiny, rich, wooden tables, the chessmen, the stuffed animals of the Story Time playground.

  She didn’t see the librarians watch her with concern.

  She didn’t hear them call out.

  Even though she’d walked through those doors daily for months, she forgot the last shallow step down leaving the lobby.

  Then all I heard was screaming as the crane flew, airborne for a few seconds, into the night sky.

  Misty crumbled down those steps.

  But she never made a sound.

  The scream was mine.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  When Vivian, Leif, and George reached the library, the doors were closed and locked and the building seemed to sigh in slumber. Or coma.

  “We can’t leave,” George implored. “She sleeps in there sometimes.”

  “In the library?”

  Her brother nodded. “Yeah, she hides.”

  “How do you know?” Leif asked.

  “I’ve watched her. Followed her.” George shrugged. “She’s really sick. I worried.” My thoughts turned to Carlton.

  “Can we get in?” Vivian tried a locked door.

  “Breaking and entering?” Leif asked.

  “If we have to.” Vivian looked around and spotted boot soles. A homeless person? “I’ll be right back.”

  She marched over toward the bushes. “Excuse me, I’m hoping you can help me find my friend. I’ll be happy to buy you dinner in exchange?”

  Several curious faces blinked out at her.

  “I have sixty bucks. Twenty for each of you.” Vivian reached into her bag and showed them cash. “My friend is very sick and we’re trying to figure out if she’s still in the library.”

  “They don’t let people sleep in the library.”

  “I know,” Vivian answered.

  “Shame, it’s big and warm.”

  “That’s true,” Vivian agreed.

  “And dry.”

  “You looking for the girlie in the ambulance?”

  Vivian perked up. “Ambulance?”

  “Fell down the steps.”

  “Hauled her away.”

  “Never woke up. Looked like a junkie, if you ask me.”

  “She’s sick.” Leif held George’s trembling shoulder in solidarity and support.

  “Did this girl look anything like him?” Vivian pointed toward George.

  “Could be. Dark and all. Hood over her hair, her face.”

  “The flashing lights hurt my eyes.”

  Leif edged closer. “How long ago did this happen?”

  “Don’t know. A hiccup of breaths.”

  “Thank you. Thank you for your help.” Vivian handed the money over and ushered the boys back to the car.

  Leif scowled. “That was dangerous.”

  Vivian didn’t answer him.

  Leif checked the time and swore. “I have to get to the airport to get Sam.”

  “Okay, split up. We’ll go to the med center. It’s closest, and if they see her scar they’ll know she had a transplant. You want to come with me?” Vivian asked George.

  “Yeah, I’m coming.” The boy nodded vigorously.

  Vivian touched Leif’s hand. “Text me when you get Sam.”

  “And me if you find her.”

  There was an awkward moment when Leif bent to kiss Vivian and she went to hug him.

  They were still angry and hurt and kind of strangers to each other.

  Vivian ignored George’s confused look and kissed Leif’s cheek before grabbing George’s hand and moving toward the main road.

  “Hurry.” She hailed a cab.

  Yes, hurry.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Leif stood a
t the B concourse passenger exit amid the late-night gathering. Seeing each other via video conference didn’t mean he and Samuel had officially met; Leif worried he somehow looked different in real life.

  “Hey—” Samuel approached.

  “Hey—” Leif responded with relief. Sam was shorter than he expected and appeared no older than thirteen.

  Is that handshake–chest bump–half hug in boy DNA?

  “We can’t find Misty; Vivian went to the hospital.” Leif brought Samuel up to speed on the way to the parking garage.

  Samuel checked his phone and dropped a curse.

  Leif glanced over at Samuel’s agitation. “Wha?”

  “My ma blew up my voice mail.”

  “She mad?”

  “Beyond.” Sam shrugged. “She’s on her way. We gotta find Misty quick.”

  Thank god the voice mail filled up after thirty messages. Her shrill outrage makes my head hurt. Sam’s gonna be in trouble.

  Vivian texted her favorite nurse from the cab.

  R U wkng?

  “You know people here?” George asked as Vivian escorted him toward the main visitor entrance.

  “I’ve spent a lot of time in this place.”

  Her phone beeped and she read the reply aloud. “ ‘Y—you in ER? What happened?’ ”

  Her fingers moving quickly, she responded. “I’m good. Friend might be here. Need help.”

  Almost immediately, the answer came: “Down in a sec.”

  Vivian felt better. “Nurse Heidi’s going to come down. She knows everything that happens in this hospital.”

  “If they took her to the emergency room, shouldn’t we be there?” George asked, studying the map of the medical center.

  With its big windows and conversation areas upholstered in soothing blue (Pantone 277) and green (Pantone 12-0313), this was the least contaminated area of the waiting rooms. No one spent time here—they moved through to find patients and family. “Nurse Heidi will help us.” Vivian had to be careful with her own health. The last thing she needed was exposure to a virus, or bacterial infection. She didn’t want to say anything to Leif, or George, but while most people felt safe in hospitals, for her being in one could be deadly.