Our doorbell rings.
“That’s probably Rob. Elle, you want to answer it?”
“No, I’m going to run to the bathroom first.”
“To fix your face?” my mother whispers.
“Cute. No, I really have to use the bathroom.” One of the medications I’ve been given is a diuretic, so this isn’t a lie. After I wash my hands, I take a few minutes to fix my face. My mother was right, but she doesn’t have to know that.
“Hey, Rob,” I say as I step from the bathroom.
“Elle.” He wraps his arms around me so loosely I can hardly feel them.
“Rob, I’m not going to break. It’s okay.” I give him a hard squeeze.
“I’m so glad you’re okay.” He takes off his Oakland A’s baseball cap and pushes his hair off his face. It’s dark brown, long on top, and faded all around. I can definitely see why he makes the girls swoon – he’s cute, in that boy band sort of way. He plops down on our couch. Scooter immediately makes his presence known and presses as close to Rob as he possibly can. “Your cat is in love with me,” he says with a laugh.
“Don’t get too full of yourself. She licks her own butt, you know?”
“Hey, she does what she has to.”
Scooter’s loud purr fills the room.
“Come over here, Scoots.” I tap my fingertips on the couch.
“She’s ignoring you,” Rob says. “You wanna come home with me?”
“She’s been acting strangely ever since I got home. I think she’s mad at me for leaving her for so long.” I reach over to take Scooter from Rob, but she hisses loudly and jumps from the couch.
“Um, wow.”
“She’s never done that before.” I’m kind of embarrassed.
“Rob, would you like to stay for dinner? I’m making spaghetti,” my mother yells from the kitchen.
“No, thanks. I already ate.”
“Mom, Scooter is acting really weird.”
I pop my head around the corner of our living room and watch as Scooter runs down the hall toward the bedrooms. She stops, mid-way, and turns back to look at me. Her body is crouched close to the floor and her tail is puffed up three times its normal size. She doesn’t want anything to do with me. After one hard stare, she runs off into the spare bedroom my mother uses as her office.
“And that’s why cats get a bad reputation – they’re moody,” Rob says. “Sort of like… women.”
“Is that so?” I walk over to Rob and nudge his shoulder with the tips of my fingers. He falls back on the couch like he was just hit with a sledgehammer.
“You’re stronger than you look.” He laughs. “Seriously, Elle,” his voice lowers, “it’s amazing what you’ve been through. And you look… good.” He hesitates before giving the compliment, always careful not to cross the imaginary line we’ve drawn between us.
“Thanks. I have to admit, I feel good.” I sit down next to him on the couch. The house is filling with the smell of my mom’s marinara sauce.
“So, tell me. What’s going on at school?” I turn toward him, crossing my left leg over my right.
“Not much. Things have been exactly the same since you left. Oh, yeah,” he says. “Bryan Miller and Samantha McCarty broke up again.”
“That is so not news. They are probably getting back together as we speak.” I roll my eyes with a grin.
“Oh, and Mr. McGarry returned from his ‘vacation,’” Rob says, making air quotes with his fingers.
“Do tell!” He had my full attention now. “Did he have any more work done?” A lot of us at school have been suspecting Mr. McGarry of undergoing gender reassignment surgery. His transformation has been both gradual and subtle over the last few years.
“I have to say, his Adam’s apple does look a lot smaller.” Rob rubs the side of his head and smiles. “Honestly, Elle, I feel weird talking about all this stuff with you.”
“Why? You never did before.”
“It’s just that, after what you’ve been through… I mean, it’s so amazing. Talking about stuff like this seems, I dunno, not important.”
“Are you kidding? It’s this kind of stuff that keeps me from freaking out about what has really been happening to me.”
“Can I ask you something?” Rob leans in close, and I take a moment to appreciate his face. It is smooth – flawless. There’s not a single stubble of hair, even though I’m sure he’s started shaving by now. His eyebrows are perfectly groomed, too.
“What is it?” I ask, bringing myself back to the moment.
“Did they tell you who your donor is?” He squints his eyes and shrugs his shoulders slightly, like he dreaded asking me the question.
“It’s okay for you to ask me questions,” I say, trying to put him at ease. “I know her name was Cas and she was around my age.”
“Wow. What happened to her?” His eyes widen.
“She was in an accident, the same night I was brought in. It’s weird how things work out, though, right?”
“Wow. I didn’t think you were allowed to find out stuff about your donor.”
“As long as the family consents, it’s okay. There are a lot of families that even decide to meet the recipients. I guess it makes them feel better.”
“I bet. That’s some crazy shit.” He pauses a moment. “How do you feel? I mean, does it feel any different?” He brings his hand to his face and rubs his imaginary facial hair. “Your heart, I mean.”
“Yeah. I guess it does.” I press my hand against my chest, reflecting on an answer. Physically, I do feel better. “I used to get these weird, like, ‘flippy’ feelings in my chest, but those stopped.”
“Flippy feelings? Is that a medical term?” His voice has a playful lilt. “So, is that it? I mean, is there anything else that feels different – you know, now that you have someone else’s heart?”
I had thought about almost nothing but my transplant for most of my life, and now that I have it, I spend most of my time trying to not think about it. If I really stop to ponder the fact that someone else’s heart is beating in my chest, I might lose my mind.
“I guess a couple of weird things have happened to me since the surgery,” I finally answer, a bit reluctant.
My mother pops her head back into the living room. “Rob, why don’t you stay for dinner? We have plenty.” I am secretly happy she interrupted.
“Thanks, Ms. Collins, but I had better start going. Well, I’m glad you’re feeling good, Elle.” Rob turns back toward me and touches my shoulder. He pauses for a moment, like there is something else he wants to say. “I better go.” He stands up and heads for the front door.
“Thank you. You know, for checking in.” I follow behind him.
“I’m only upstairs. It’s not a big deal.”
“I know, but still,” I say abruptly, not sure why. Maybe I want him to make a big deal over me?
“I’ll keep you posted on Mr. McGarry. He may just be Mrs. McGarry when you come back to school.” Rob’s silly smirk doesn’t last long. He looks at me, a concerned glint in his eye. “You are coming back, right?”
“Yup. The doctors said I should be able to start school again in another few weeks,” I reassure him, and then add, “as long as things keep going well.” I hope I haven’t just jinxed myself.
“That’s good. Okay, I’ll see ya later. Let me know if you need anything.” He gives a backhanded wave as he walks away.
“Thanks,” I say, closing the door. I watch as he makes his way down the hall.
“He’s such a sweet guy.” I turn around, surprised to find my mother standing behind me, holding a saucy wooden spoon.
“Were you listening to us the whole time?”
“No. Give me some credit.” She smiles. I follow her to the kitchen and watch as she stirs the sauce. “You want a taste?” She holds the spoon in front of me.
“No thanks.” I wave the spoon away.
“What’s wrong, Elle?” I recognize the worried look in her eye. “Are you feeling okay
?”
“Yes. I feel good.” To be honest, I’m not sure how to answer.
“I’d think you’d feel better after seeing Rob,” she adds nonchalantly.
“Please don’t start on me again!” I groan. I pull open the refrigerator door and grab a bottle of water.
“I don’t mean to be a nag.” She leans over to wipe splattered sauce from the stove. “It’s just that you got this heart so you can live.” She puts the towel down and looks at me. “Elle, I don’t want you to just live. I want you to have a life.”
“So what are you trying to say, Mom? That I don’t have a life?” My voice is calm. “Sorry, but I’ve been a little busy lately. You know, almost dying, getting a new heart…” I roll my eyes before walking into the living room and lying back down on the couch.
“Elle, I’m just trying to have a discussion with you.” She follows me into the living room. “I’m not saying you should start dating tomorrow or that it should be Rob. I’m just saying that you can’t wait around for you know who forever.” I groan and throw my arms over my face.
“Scott Carmichael is your doctor and he’s much too old for you. I know how you feel about him, but enough is enough. You have to get past this little crush and move on.” She leans her hand on the wall and just stares at me until I realize that she won’t say another word until I respond.
“Mom, this really isn’t any of your business. Besides, you don’t know how I feel about Scott, or anyone else for that matter!” I have had enough of this conversation. I’m not even sure how I feel, anymore, and now I’m supposed to tell my mother all about it?
“Elle, don’t get upset. I—”
The phone rings. Kate reaches for the cordless phone beside the couch.
“Hello?” … “Yes, hi, Jocelyn. She’s doing well, thank you. Sure, she’s standing right next to me.”
I narrow my eyes, give a hard stare, and snatch the phone from her hands. I head toward my room and slam the door closed when I step inside. “Hi, Jocelyn!”
“How are you feeling?” Her voice is calm, like Scott’s.
“I’m doing well, thank you.”
“I just wanted to check in. I was thinking we could schedule another session. I know the activity will do you good.”
“I’d like that.” I really did need to get out of the house. And away from my mother! “Are you around tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” Her intonation escalates a notch. “I think tomorrow would be fine. If you don’t feel that’s too soon.”
“Tomorrow is good,” I say. “Scott told me to keep moving – I know it’s not good for me to stay idle all day.”
“Oh yes, I know. I’d be happy to meet tomorrow. I can prepare a lunch, and then we can work on some light stretching. I think it will be good for you.”
I agree. “Thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
***
Later that night, I lie in bed and pray to Cas. Actually, I might not be praying so much as just talking to myself. It amazes me to think that the human spirit may actually live on after death.
After my dad died, I tried to communicate with him. I’d fold my hands tightly and say silent prayers. I tried audible prayers, too. I’d pray on my knees, or lying in bed. I tried everything I learned in Sunday school. Thinking about it now, I realize he had answered me, even if I didn’t notice it at the time. Sometimes it was a song on the radio – like the morning I was driving to school and something told me to change the station. When I did, a throwback song my dad used to sing to me as child started to play. I remember bursting into tears. There were also the times I’d suddenly get a whiff of mint and pine – completely out of the blue – causing me to think of him. I couldn’t explain it at the time, but now I think that was his way of telling me he was there.
Chapter Nine
Jocelyn has set a place for us outside on the veranda. It’s the perfect day to be outdoors. It’s warm with just enough of a breeze, so you won’t get hot. She stirs her tea slowly.
“So have you started to keep a log, just in case something should happen again?” She picks up the cream-colored tea mug and grips it between her palms. A trace of steam curls around her nose as she pulls the mug to her lips.
I look down at the lemon scone Jocelyn has given me. I break off a piece and pop it into my mouth, giving myself some time to think. I chew slowly, and finally shake my head. “I’m just not sure a log is necessary right now. I was going to wait and see if something else happens first.”
“So there’s been nothing else?” She wipes her mouth with a linen napkin. I wonder for a moment if she already knows something that I don’t. I adjust myself in the chair, shifting my body from side to side. I have never been a very good liar.
“No, there hasn’t been anything else. At least nothing that I’ve noticed.”
“I believe you would know when it happened.” She places the napkin on her lap. “You know, Elle, in some ways I envy you. I can’t communicate with those who’ve crossed over to the other side.”
I sip my tea and stare at her blankly.
“I’m clairvoyant, not a medium,” she explains.
“So you do believe there is another side?” I find myself genuinely interested in her opinion on the topic.
“I would think you could answer that question better than anyone.” Jocelyn presses her lips together tightly and stares directly at me. “No, Elle, death is not the end. That I know. This life is just a pit stop, believe me.” Jocelyn reaches across the patio table and touches my hand. “Your donor is in a much better place, now—”
“Mother?” Scott interrupts abruptly. He saunters over; his gait doesn’t match his tone.“What are you two talking about?”
“Just some girl-talk before we start our session.” A palpable tension fills the air. I follow the direction of Scott’s eyes toward Jocelyn. When he opens his mouth, I think he’s going to say something to her, but instead he says, “Elle, you look…” during his millisecond pause, I fill my mind with adjectives I hope he’ll use – cute, pretty, hot, “… well,” he finishes.
“Thank you.” I am still somewhat pleased with the compliment. “I feel well.” I echo his wording. “I’m looking forward to working with your mom again.”
“I’m glad. It may not seem like much, but yoga and meditation are very good at calming the mind.”
“I should know.” Jocelyn laughs to herself.
Scott gives his mother a pensive glare before turning to me with a smile.
“Are you going in to the hospital today?” I ask.
“My son never has a day off.” Jocelyn looks at Scott smugly. “If he’s not at the hospital, he’s working from home. Sit down with us and relax.” Jocelyn takes an extra teacup and pours in the Earl Gray. Scott drinks the beverage in one long gulp, as if it’s a shot of whiskey, despite the steam still rising from the cup. If he burned his throat, he doesn’t let it show.
“Now, I am going to take care of some things around here.” Scott wipes the moisture from his lips. “That is, if it’s okay with you?” He looks at Jocelyn and raises his brow.
“Of course,” Jocelyn says with a wry lilt.
“How are the horses doing?” I still feel a special interest in my namesake.
Scott smiles. “They’re great. In fact, I was just about to fill their troughs with some fresh hay. Would you like to help me out?”
I’m surprised at how excited I feel. I look over at Jocelyn, afraid that my sudden departure might seem insulting.
“Go ahead,” she says. Maybe she is reading my mind. That’s always a risk when spending time with a clairvoyant, I suppose. Jocelyn nudges her head for me to go. “I have to clean up, anyway. I’ll be waiting when you get back.”
Like an eager child, I follow Scott toward the stables. As we walk, he leans in closer to me, and I feel his breath on my ear. Goose pimples run up and down my arms. “So, what were you and my mother discussing?”
“The usual things… like my prognosis,” I lament.
I look at Scott and try to read his expression. In the sunlight, I notice small lines etched on the outer edge of his eye. This is the first physical sign of Scott’s age that I’ve seen. I never once even noticed a gray hair, even though the hospital’s fluorescent lighting makes it easy to see things like that.
Scott clears his throat and turns his head toward me. I hope he didn’t notice that I was staring at his face. “Well, from a medical standpoint, your prognosis looks really good.” I can tell he’s trying his best to sound positive, which is sometimes a challenge for doctors. With some doctors, it seems like they don’t want to take the bother of matching their inflection to the diagnosis.
“Scott, can I ask you something?” I kick some rocks with the tip of my sneaker, causing a cloud of dust.
“Of course.” Scott turns to face me again.
“When Jocelyn visited me in the hospital, she mentioned something to me about side-effects from the transplant.” I pause and wait, not sure how much I want to say.
“What about them?” Scott asked.
“Well, she said if I noticed anything unusual that I should tell you about it.” I slow down and look at Scott and notice the smile has left his face. He takes a few seconds before answering.
“That should go without saying,” he says, shrugging his shoulders.
“I know, but what she mentioned aren’t your usual side-effects.”
“What exactly did my mother tell you?” I can tell from his tone that he’s getting defensive.
Before I have a chance to answer, the roar of a loud engine interrupts us. A red sports car slows down to a crawl and pulls up alongside us. The driver’s side window lowers and a beautifully manicured hand waves to Scott.
The Divine Heart Page 7
