Adam
Doctor Jervis stops by after dinner. His scrubs are wrinkled and his face bears the lines of wearing a surgical mask for hours on end. Today, his surgical cap has racing flames on the sides instead of skulls. At least he has a theme.
Mum and Dad greet him like the god he is with double-fisted handshakes and bursting smiles.
“How’s our young patient?” Dr. Jervis unwinds his stethoscope from his neck and motions for me to lift my shirt. “Let’s have a listen.”
I pull my t-shirt off, exposing my scar. A puffy, red line marks the center of my chest, puckered by black sutures. Underneath lays my treasure, my new heart.
Dr. Jervis presses the stethoscope to my skin. Mum and Dad huddle at the end of my bed, gazes locked onto the doctor’s every move.
After listening to my heart, Dr. Jervis slaps on a pair of gloves and gingerly prods the wound. “Any pain, trouble breathing, shortness of breath, dizziness, black outs?”
“No.” Not since the day I snuck out for coffee and fell off the treadmill.
“You use the pillow?”
“Yes.” It lies next to me on the bed, so I pat it like it’s a dog. My companion.
“Taking your meds, wearing a mask in public?”
Quick questions means I can give simple answers. It’s the one thing I like about surgeons. Other than the life-saving operations they do, of course. “All the time.”
Mum and Dad nod in agreement, eager to please him.
“Ricky says you’re progressing quite nicely in PT. Feels good to have a functioning heart, doesn’t it?” Jervis pats my shoulder, all atta-boys and look-what-I’ve-done-for-you.
“Can I put my shirt back on?” I ask.
“Sure,” Dr. Jervis says.
Mum grips the foot of the bed with both hands. “What happens next, doctor?”
“Since Adam’s doing so well, I think we can plan for discharge. We’ll do one more biopsy tomorrow to check for rejection—I doubt there is any—and once he wakes up, you can take him home.” He rubs his hands together. It’s a done deal.
“That’s wonderful, doctor. Thank you. For everything.” Dad extends his hand for another shake.
Jervis gladly accepts it. “No problem. It’s what I do.”
After Jervis leaves, Mum skirts around the bed and hugs me. “Isn’t that fantastic news? You’re coming home tomorrow.”
I immediately think of Darby and the excitement that charges through me when I’m with her. My new heart skips right along with me. But if I’m discharged, we can’t share ice cream in the cafeteria or sneak away to the park or commiserate about being stuck in the hospital.
Or kiss.
I bite my lip ring to suppress the smile that wants to burst across my face. Next time, I’m going to kiss her first.
If there is a next time.
My stomach folds into knots.
I must get her number or email before I leave.
Mum keeps squeezing me. “I’ll make your favorite dinner. Then we’ll pop popcorn, veg on the couch, and watch movies. How does that sound?”
“Yeah, great,” I mumble. All I can think about is shrugging out of her grip and dashing to the Pediatric floor.
Dad frowns. “You don’t look excited.”
Mum peers down at me. “What’s wrong?”
I try to animate my face. Make it look like I’m happy. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just surprised … shocked. Didn’t think I’d be leaving so soon.”
“You didn’t think you’d be here forever, did you?” Dad chuckles. “I thought you’d be chomping to get out of here.”
“Yeah, I am, but this seems so sudden.”
Mum fusses with my hair. “It’ll be good to have you home. Things can go back to normal.”
Normal. Mum’s fantasy turns into reality.
The only thing I can say for certain is Darby has made me feel more alive than anything—or anyone—else. Forget Shaw’s stupid therapy, Ricky’s grueling PT sessions, or drafting a Live Life List. None of it is real, like really real.
Except for Darby.
Without her, I’m not sure which way to go. It figures that I’d finally have a glimpse of what my life could become and it gets mowed down before it can grow. The seedling of optimism I dared to cultivate starts to shrivel.
I slide to the bed’s edge, leaving Mum’s embrace.
Nope. I shake my head. I will not give up so quickly. If I’m going to take full advantage of this second chance, I need to take a cue from Darby and act.
“Adam?” Mum tentatively puts a hand on my arm. Her wide eyes search Dad’s face for support.
“Son, what’s going on?” Dad comes closer.
Flanked by them, I fidget even more, like a thoroughbred at a starting gate. I need to find Darby now. Launching myself off the bed, I rush out of the room before Mum and Dad can stop me.
Mum follows. “Adam! Where are you going? Your mask and pillow!”
I pick up my pace. “I’ll be back in a minute. I need to talk to Darby.”
Mum’s heels click-click-click-click. “You have to talk to her now?”
At the lift, I press the down button several times. “Yes.”
Mum catches up to me, huffing a bit. She leans against the wall. “I’m not used to you running.”
“You didn’t have to chase me.”
Dad rounds the corner. He’s carrying my pillow and mask. “Thought you might need these.”
I put the mask on and clutch the pillow to my chest. “Thanks.”
He turns to Mum. “Where’s he rushing off to?”
Mum shifts from leaning on the wall to leaning on him. “He’s going to visit Darby.”
His brows crawl up his forehead. “Now?”
Mum stares up at me, her eyes filled with confusion and maybe a hint of excitement. “I’m not sure what’s going on with you right now, but … I’m going to trust you.”
My chest swells with hope. “Really?”
She nods.
“Can someone explain what’s going on?” Dad asks.
Mum pats his belly. “I told you, Adam’s going to see Darby.”
He raises his eyebrows like he’s caught on, but he hasn’t. I can tell by the frown tugging at his mouth. True to form, he doesn’t argue or keep questioning. That’s Mum’s job and for once she’s letting me do what I need to do.
The lift’s doors open.
Filled with a lightness I haven’t felt in months, I rush inside and press the button for the Pediatric floor. “Thank you.”
Mum smiles up at me. And she’s proud.
Dad’s expression remains confused. He circles an arm around Mum’s shoulders and plants a kiss on her head.
The doors close, leaving my past behind me.
When I step off the lift, I’m on my way to Darby and a new life.
* * *
I round the corner and almost smack directly into Darby.
Her eyes widen. “Adam.”
“Darby.” I breathe out her name, tugging the facemask off.
“What’re you doing here?” She grabs my wrist and drags me to a dimly lit alcove.
“I love it when you do that.” I blurt out the words, then hold my breath.
“Do what?”
“Take charge.”
She giggles. “Seriously?”
I laugh. “The truth is, I came to see you.”
Her smile widens. “You did?”
I toss my pillow to the floor and lace my fingers with hers, suddenly sobered. “I’m being discharged tomorrow.”
Her smile fades. She shifts deeper into a shadow. “I’m being discharged tonight. Now.”
“Now?”
She presses her lips together. “Mom is packing my things, but I left her to find you. I couldn’t go without seeing you again.”
“So you came to see me too?” More lightness infuses my body. I’d levitate if I could. Instead, I plant my feet firmly on the ground, swallowing down the hope building from my feet, up my legs … No. I shouldn’t get carried away. She might simply want to say goodbye and good luck and all that.
“Of course.” She peers up at me through her eyelashes and rests her palms against my chest. Heat radiates from her, igniting a fire deep in my belly. “This is happening too fast. I thought I—I thought we’d be here a lot longer.”
“Me too.” I want to hook my finger under her chin like she did mine when we were in the park, but I’m not sure how with the neck brace and all, so I tuck a blue lock of hair behind her ear and let my fingers linger on her skin. She doesn’t shy away. “We agree to be honest, right?”
“Yes.” She answers without hesitating.
“Good because I want to say something.” My heart pounds. Practicing a New Life can take its toll. This heart should be able to handle it where my old one couldn’t.
“Say it.”
I creep my toes to the proverbial ledge, stare out at the horizon, and leap off, spreading my arms wide to fly. “I’m not ready to leave you.”
She shivers. I pull her closer to me. She clasps her arms around my waist and presses her face against my chest. “Me neither.”
I ignore the pressure it puts on my sternum. She wants to be with me. Me. The sick, delicate, awkward guy who doesn’t know how to live. I catch an air current and float. “We can exchange numbers and emails and … ”
She hugs me tighter. “Uh-hmmm.”
“I was thinking … ” I pause, hoping an upwind will catch me so I don’t crash.
She giggles. “You think too much.”
I hold my breath. Can’t falter now. I unwrap Darby’s arms from my waist and bend my knees so we’re almost eye level, holding onto her hands. “You’re probably right.”
A troubling darkness deepens her crystal eyes. I can’t tell if it’s sadness, regret, or both. “Sometimes thinking is good. I don’t do enough of it.”
“Too much thinking is just as bad.”
She blinks away the shadow in her gaze. “So stop it.”
I toggle my lip ring. My gaze falls to her mouth. “Okay.”
I lean in, hovering close to her lips. Her breath warms my face. My heart goes crazy.
It’s now or never.
I press my mouth against hers. She’s soft and smooth and perfect. I settle on her bottom lip until the kiss turns urgent and bold, and oh god, she slips her tongue in my mouth and kisses me back.
We’re here, together, two opposites, a thinker and a doer, a rule-follower and a rule-breaker, meeting in the middle, living in the contrast.