With This Heart(71)

When I didn’t respond to his ultimatum, he pushed off the bed and stood facing the wall for a moment. His hands cradled the back of his head and I could see his back muscles shifting beneath his shirt.

“ I’m so sorry,” I whispered, trying to reach out for him and causing my cannula to slip out of my nose. It only took a few seconds before I felt light headed, but I had to push through it.


“ Please understand. Please,” I begged, needing him to turn toward me. I didn’t want us to end like this. I needed him to tell me it was okay. That he agreed with me.

When he turned to face me, his chiseled features were sharp as stone.

“ No, actually I don’t understand,” he snapped, and I cringed back against the bed as if he’d hit me. “Don’t do this, Abby.” A second later, the door knob clicked open and my mom peeked in, most likely to make sure everything was okay. As soon as I saw her face, she moved away to give us privacy. But, the noise of the door snapped Beck out of his death stare. He shook his head and turned to leave.

“ Wait!” I yelled, grasping the journal and jumping out of my bed. My head spun and I fell forward, catching myself on the nightstand. My body protested and my heart pumped overtime as it tried to send out enough oxygenated blood to keep me standing.

He didn’t turn around.

“ Beck! This is for you.” I held the journal out in a desperate plea for him to take it. I didn’t want to move away from the nightstand for fear that I’d face plant into the tile. The heart monitor was beeping wildly behind me and I knew we only had seconds before my nurse rushed in. It didn’t bother me that everyone in the ward could hear me yelling. I just couldn’t let him leave without reading everything in the journal. He had to know how much he meant to me.

But nothing in life is perfect. I got what I wanted: Beck was going to live his life. It just wasn’t going to be on my terms.

I tried gulping in breaths of air and slowing my heart, but nothing helped. I needed to sit back down, but I couldn’t yet. He was leaving me. His hand grasped the door knob and my lip quivered as tears streamed down my cheeks.

He pulled his hand away and was swiveling on his feet back toward me. He was about to turn around, I know he was, but then the nurse and my mom rushed past him to get to me.

“ You need to leave now, young man!” the nurse barked, her voice much too harsh. “You’ve done enough!”

“ Beck!” I screamed, trying in vain to get him to turn around and take the journal. But the nurses and doctor blocked his path. I chucked it across the room so that it hit the door with a loud thud. The world spun around me, but I tried to hold onto consciousness. I needed one more glimpse of him to tide me over, but instead I was met with a black ring impinging on my vision as the nurse lifted me back onto the bed.

I felt my mom’s hand rub my hair back as she leaned down to hold me.

“ He’s gone. Sweetie, just rest. Just rest.”

She kept repeating those words as she rocked me against the hospital bed. I clung to her shirt with a vice-like grip, wishing she could erase every cruel moment in my life.

I’d done the right thing and I knew it, yet the doubt that seeped into my thoughts was enough to cause nightmares anytime I shut my eyes. My brain had a way of finding the most gut-wrenching ideas and replaying them in my mind over and over again.

Beck at parties. Beck with girls. Beck sleeping with a new girlfriend. I squeezed my eyes shut and told myself it was for the best. But it wasn’t enough. I reached for the pail next to my bed and threw-up the contents of my stomach until I was left dry-heaving and praying for the pain and sadness to go away.

…



Beck called everyday for a month and I didn’t answer once. I had to fight myself about it every single time, but I knew if I heard his voice, I’d cave and beg him to come back. So instead, I’d watch the phone vibrate on the hospital’s night stand, jarring the silence from the room and reminding me of how much I’d been forced to give up in my life.





ONE YEAR LATER





[page]CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN





I sat in Dr. Lucas’ office just as I had twice a month for the past year. Her stylish glasses were sitting on the brim of her nose as she ran through everything on her checklist one last time. My eyes scanned down her burgundy cardigan and I smiled thinking of how different our relationship used to be.

“ You’ve got your schedule in order. I think it’s wise that you’re taking basics the first year. That way if you change your major, it won’t be a problem,” she chimed in as her finger dragged down the list. We’d already gone through everything ten times, and I knew my session was almost over. I think she was dragging it out because she knew it was the last time I’d be visiting her. My life no longer required a life coach. I smiled at the silly thought and stuffed my papers into my purse.

“ I don’t think I’ll be changing my major, but I agree,” I said, leaning back and eying her.

She met my eyes and nodded. We’d finally come to understand one another and I’d truly appreciated her help throughout the last year.

“ You should be proud of yourself, Abby. You did it. You got into college and you’re leaving tomorrow. Are you nervous?” she asked, her tone shifting into friend-mode.