With This Heart(6)

She really wanted to add, so go away and don’t interrupt her fifteen minutes of peace.

Too bad, lady.

“ It’s just a really quick something, and I promise she likes me. She told me once that I was her favorite patient.” I couldn’t actually recall Alyssa ever saying that. She had a straight forward, cut-the-crap attitude. I actually don’t recall her ever paying me a compliment, but it worked. The medical assistant turned toward the break room to retrieve Alyssa.





[page]CHAPTER THREE





“‘ My favorite patient’?” Alyssa repeated with a smirk as she stepped closer. Her brown gaze shifted above my head, most likely to confirm that the coast was clear. I turned with her gaze to see my mom immersed in a conversation with Dr. Pierce out in the hallway. I swear the two women had become best friends considering the amount of time they’d spent together. I imagined them talking about the singular interest that brought them together: me and my ol’, well new, heart.

“ Are you sure you want to talk about this right now?” Alyssa asked with a warning tone.

“ Yeah, it’s sorta urgent.”

“ Sort of?” she mocked.

I scrunched my nose in protest. “I’m nineteen, remember? I’m allowed to use words like ‘like’ and ‘sorta.”

Alyssa laughed and gently tugged my arm so she could pull us into the closest exam room.

“ You realize you’re putting not only my job, but this practice and the hospital, in jeopardy by asking what you’re asking.” Every feature of her face was stern, which only added to the seriousness of her warning.

“ Alyssa, I realize there are ramifications for my actions. They sound really terrible, and I promise I won’t use the information recklessly.”

She rolled her eyes and then narrowed them on me, as if judging how worthy I was. I hoped in that moment that my makeup-less face portrayed me as innocently as possible. For good measure, I widened my sage green eyes and flashed her a pleading smile. I gave her the full on sick-kid face, and I knew she was putty in my hands. I’m sorry that you have to know about that. I wish I could say that I never used my sickness for selfish reasons, but I thought of it like this: life had dealt me a really shitty hand. Other people were pretty or smart, and they used those qualities to their advantage in life. Why couldn’t I, ONLY once or twice, use my sickness to my advantage? I mean, I didn’t even get a Wish. This was my Wish. Alyssa was my quasi-Make-A-Wish Genie in that moment.

Maybe I should have told her.

Anyway, she pulled out a piece of paper from one of the like twelve dozen pockets on her scrubs and shoved it into my hand like she was dealing drugs and wanted to get the paraphernalia out of her hands, lest the police roll up soon.

“ That’s their name and address. You DO NOT know me and you DO NOT say the true reason you’re there, ever.”

My hand shook a little bit when she gave me that speech. The whole idea felt serious in that moment, like the road trip might actually happen after all. Beck’s handsome features materialized in my thoughts.


“ How long are you planning on being gone?” she asked with a flash of concern.

“ Two weeks,” I whispered, fearing her reprimand.

“ So you’re going to miss two weekly check-ups?” Her voice was harsh. I wanted to scream, YES. I’m going to miss two appointments so I can LIVE my life! What’s the point of getting a new heart if all it’s good for is watching reality TV and picking out spices with my mom?!

I wanted to say that so badly, but out of respect I offered only a nod.

“ Yes, but I’ll be fine. I’ll take all of my medications and take my temperature every day.”

I knew that wasn’t enough. There were so many things that could go wrong.

She mashed her lips together in deliberation before she tugged the piece of paper away from my still-trembling hand. “Here, let me write my cell number on the back so you can call me if anything comes up.”



…



Mom didn’t leave me alone until late on Monday night and I told myself I was too tired to worry about the fact that I hadn’t heard from Beck all day. I mean, he had texted me that morning and I never responded, but what kind of determination was that? One text and he gave up? I thought romance was supposed to be desperate and wild.

Just as I began to ponder that fact, my phone buzzed next to me on the night stand and I shifted my weight to peek at who was calling. CAROLINE lit up the screen with her cheerful, steroid-y face. She was my best friend, besides my parents and obviously now the gay couple next door. Oh, I should have mentioned earlier that the blind man is not actually blind blind, just that strange kind of blind where you aren’t sure if they’re looking at you or straight through you. Earlier today I was taking my trash down to the dumpster and the blind man had stepped out of his apartment at the exact same moment.



“ Is that Otis you have there?” he asked, eyeing the trash bag.

Otis?

“ Uh…huh, it...Is…” My words sounded scraggly and half-hearted. I had no clue what else to say. What was I supposed to do? Admit to the poor guy that it was a trashbag full of yesterday’s salmon smashed into the remnants of whatever organic/vegan/gluten-free dish I had consumed alongside it?