The Anatomical Shape of a Heart(33)

Oh.

The day I’d gone down to talk to Heath, we’d tried to puzzle out what had happened with Jack at the hospital. We settled on it having something to do with Jack’s mother and wondered if she—maybe?—had cancer, but I realized now that we’d made the wrong diagnosis.

“The person you’ve been visiting is in the psych ward,” I said softly.

“For the last year and half. She was sick before that and hospitalized once, just for twenty-four hours. But eighteen months ago, she crossed the line.”

He didn’t volunteer what that line was, so I asked, “Family?”

“Yeah. My so-called ‘lady friend.’”

We’d been right about that, at least. It was Jack’s mother. “Is she … okay?”

“The meds help with the hallucinations and the panic disorder. Without them, she gets stressed and confused, and starts to hear voices, and all of it will eventually build until she’s completely agitated and has a violent episode. When she’s coming down from that, she’s emotionless. Like, just staring at the walls, completely flat.”

“Sounds bipolar or something.”

“They thought she was at first. Then the voices started.” He shook his head, as if he could erase the thought of it. “But anyway, she’d been doing okay recently. They experimented with a new antipsychotic, and she had a bad seizure. That was when I saw you at the hospital. She almost died.”

“Oh, Jack.”

“She’s all right now. Things are under control. She’s got good doctors, and there’s not really much we can do but trust them. She does. She feels better staying there. The routine and boundaries help. And the people working there care, you know? They aren’t just doing a job.”

I thought of my mom and all the worrying she did for some of her patients. Their families, too. She brought them food. Listened to them. Sometimes even went to funerals.

“How often you do see her?” I asked.

“Family therapy is once a week. And she has a private room, so the orderlies have been letting me see her a couple days a week after visiting hours because she sometimes paces at night. I hang out with her while the other patients are asleep. Keeps her occupied. My dad gives massive amounts of money to the hospital, so they’re lenient with us.”

“That’s how you ‘fixed’ things for me in the anatomy lab.”

He nodded. “Would be much better if you’d continue to think I’m just that cool, and that it wasn’t the influence of my family’s money and name.”

I gave him a soft smile. “I still think you’re just that cool—don’t worry.”

“Do you?”

I couldn’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses, so I just kept staring up at the sky and reached between us to curl my pinkie around his. His chest deflated as he blew out a long, slow breath through his mouth.

He threaded his fingers through mine and murmured, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. Part of me wanted to. I almost dialed your number a hundred times. But it’s a black cloud hanging over our family. My dad has to keep up appearances, so I’m forbidden to talk about it to strangers. Not that you’re a stranger, and not that I give a damn about what my dad would say if I told you. It’s just … I don’t know. I was worried you might cut your losses and bail if you found out. You wouldn’t be the first.”

“Do I need to shiv someone with a pencil? I might be small, but I’m sneaky.”

His laughter rippled down his body. He sat up on one elbow and pushed his sunglasses on top of his head to peer down at me. “How do you that?”

“What?”

He lifted my bent arm and untangled our fingers to press his big flattened palm against my small one. “I’ve spent the last three days at the Zen Center trying to get back on my feet, and you just pull me up like it’s nothing.”

I stared at our hands, unable to think of a witty comeback.

As he folded the tips of his fingers over mine, the sun burnished tiny hairs on his forearm. For two people who’d mostly spent time together after dark, seeing him now, stretched out alongside me in warm daylight, was a luxury. Here, I could freely inspect all the small things, like the white half-moons at the base of his thumbnails, and the freckle on his elbow at the bottom of his lotus tattoo. And maybe the sun shone on other things I didn’t really know were there, like the fierce knot inside my chest that had been tightening since the last time I saw him. But as I lay there with him in the grass, it unwound and relaxed, and the sun lightened all the heavy things he’d just revealed.

“I’m so glad you came looking for me,” he murmured.

I remembered what he’d told me in Alto Market. “If you leave vague hints about where you are, I will find you.”

“Did I really say that?”

“You did,” I confirmed.

He groaned. “You should’ve punched me.”

“It’s not too late.”

His gaze roamed over my Roman orgy shirt and lit on my mouth. Everything inside me fluttered. Was he going to kiss me? Was he still staring at my lips? I couldn’t tell, because I was staring at his, and they were parted, and he was breathing heavily, and I could feel his leg against mine, and mother of God, this was happening. This was definitely happening, and I could hear—