This Old Heart of Mine

by A. J. Compton

  After about five minutes, Gabriel hangs up the phone and puts it back in his pocket.

  “You ready?” he asks in a soft voice.

  “You cleared it with my keeper?”

  He chuckles. “Yes. He wanted me to know he has the police on speed dial.”

  I roll my eyes and laugh. “Let’s go, Fabio.”

  The rich smell of coffee wraps around my senses as we walk into the café. It’s heavenly. It’s strange that I’m so affected by something I’ve never had. I’m tempted to order a cup, just so I can sit there and breathe it in. Gabriel looks at me when I snicker at the image in my mind.

  “I was just enjoying the smell of coffee,” I explain, feeling a blush sweep across my skin. “No wonder people are addicted to this stuff. Why would someone choose to sniff glue when they could just go to a coffee shop?”

  He laughs and shakes his head. “You have an interesting mind, Ava.”

  “Better that than a boring one, surely?”

  He smiles. “Of course.”

  We fall into a familiar place. One of silent stares and secret smiles. As soon as our eyes connect, they break apart like magnets. This time, Gabriel is the one to look away first, under the excuse of searching the menu board.

  “What would you like to drink?” he asks, not looking back at me.

  “Um…” I search the overwhelming array of options. “I’ll live on the edge and go for a ginger and honey tea, thanks.”

  He glances back over his shoulder and raises a thick black eyebrow. “You sure? This is a very risky option. Wild. Only the bravest make this choice.”

  I giggle. “I’m sure. Carpe diem, right?”

  “Right.”

  Gabriel places our orders and finds us a seat at the back of the café. The padded leather booths create an intimate atmosphere that leaves us both looking uncomfortable. Gabriel glances around the room and nods his head in time to the gentle background music, while I fiddle with the sugar dispensers on the table.

  We both jump when the waitress brings our drinks over.

  “Thank you,” we say at the same time. Our eyes connect and we both laugh, releasing some of the tension.

  I lean back in my seat. “So.”

  Gabriel takes a sip of his coffee and licks his lips. “So.”

  “Is this your favorite café?”

  He raises his cup to his mouth again, before answering. “Yes. Good coffee is one of the things I can’t live without.”

  “What are the others?”

  His smile dims. There seems to be no pattern to his moods. They wax and wane like the tide on a stormy day. And just like that, Gabriel flips the switch again and shrugs off his sudden grumpiness. The twinkle returns to his eyes. “Good wine. Good food… Good sex.”

  I choke on my tea, tears springing to my eyes as I cough and splutter. Gabriel leans over to pat my back. His touch sears into my skin, distracting me from my embarrassment. I clear my throat and smile up at him. “I’m fine now, thank you.”

  His hand lingers for a few seconds before he nods and lifts it. “Good.”

  “Sorry,” I say as he retakes his seat opposite me. “I just wasn’t expecting that.”

  “You are not a fan of good living?”

  I start coughing again when I laugh. “To be honest, I don’t have much experience of good living.” I mimic his deliberate pause. “I don’t have much experience with living at all. But I’m trying to change that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I study Gabriel, wondering if I should tell him my story. “I had a heart transplant last year,” I explain in a rush.

  His sharp inhale is audible over the noisy café. Ensnared by his eyes, I know I have his complete attention. I’m powerless to look away as the words come spilling out.

  “I was born with serious congenital heart disease and only given a few years to live,” I explain, purging my lungs of my past. Gabriel doesn’t move, doesn’t seem to breathe as I tell him everything from my childhood spent in hospitals, to my current aim to “live twice.”

  Even though people are still talking and laughing around us, the room is silent. Gabriel’s eyes are still locked on mine, but there’s a distance in them. He’s here, but he’s also somewhere else. Drinking my tea, I give him time to return from wherever it is he’s gone.

  People react in so many different ways when they find out my story. Finn always says that it reveals more about them than it does about us. Whether they become uncomfortable and try to avoid the subject, or their eyes well up with empathy, you learn a lot about someone’s character.

  As usual, Gabriel is the exception to the rule. His reaction confuses me. The familiar pity is there in his sad eyes, but his jaw is also clenched, as if he’s angry. I’ve never had anyone react with anger about my situation.

  For some reason, I’m touched. It’s one thing for you to be mad at the world. It’s another for someone to be mad on your behalf. Right now, Gabriel looks like he would strangle life with his bare hands if it were standing in front of him.

  “So, that’s my story so far,” I say to fill the silence. “This past year has been life-changing, for so many reasons. Now I’ve been given a proper chance at life, I’m determined to make the most of it. Gaining a bit of independence has been amazing. I still have a long way to go, but I feel like I’m finally finding myself. Or at least I’m having fun trying to.”

  Gabriel’s harsh expression begins to fade as I focus on the positives of my situation. As if waking up, his posture straightens and the hazy look in his eyes clears. His tight mouth relaxes and turns up in the corners. “I understand. You are like a butterfly, yes?”

  The comparison brings a smile to my face. “I never thought about it like that.”

  He nods, rubbing his fingers over his stubble. “It fits you perfectly. In Argentina, we call a butterfly, mariposa.”

  “Mariposa.” Gabriel’s lips quirk up as I try to repeat his pronunciation. I’m sure it sounds terrible. “And what animal are you most like?” I ask.

  He leans back to think about it. “I don’t know. Perhaps, a wolf.”

  With his piercing eyes and mysterious air, I can see that. But I know from my reading that wolves are also loyal and misunderstood.

  “Why a wolf?”

  He shrugs and looks away. “I just like them.”

  “How do you say wolf in Spanish?”

  “Lobo.”

  I giggle. “That’s nowhere near as beautiful as mariposa.”

  He smiles. “Good. Men don’t want to be beautiful.”

  He may not wish to be, but he is. His wild, savage beauty stirs my blood. With Gabriel, I am not afraid of the dark. I’m drawn to it. And if I’m not careful, I have a feeling I could drown in it.

  “Speak for yourself.” I incline my head in the direction of a well-groomed, metrosexual man, as Gia calls them, who is walking past our booth. Gabriel chuckles as he finishes the last of his coffee. Talking about wishes, my smile falls. “Besides, we don’t always get what we want in life.”

  His smile sobers. “No, we don’t.”

  I think of my new heart. My silver lining. How desperately I wished and hoped and prayed for it. I find my fingertips drifting over the spot, feeling my new heart pulse against them.

  “And sometimes, if we’re lucky, we do.”

  “Are you lucky, mariposa?” he asks me in a quiet voice.

  My sad smile mirrors his. “The luckiest woman alive.”

  “Hi.” I knock on the open door. “I’m back.”

  “Hey, I’m glad you’re still alive. How was it?” Finn closes his laptop as I walk into his room, and pushes it to the side.

  I drop my purse on a chair, kick off my shoes, and climb on top of his bed. “It was good.” I can’t keep the smile out of my voice, or off my face.

  “He didn’t try any funny business, did he?” Finn’s nose wrinkles. “Wait, don’t tell me. I don’t think I want to know.”

  I giggle and bump my shoulder int
o him. “No. There was no funny business.”

  “Good. Did you want there to be? Wait. Don’t answer that, either.”

  “Oh, my God.” I laugh and sit up against the pillows.

  “What? This you-dating thing is hard. I want to be there for you, and at the same time, even thinking about it makes me kind of nauseous. Maybe you should talk to Gia or some of your girlfriends from work.”

  “I will. No offense, but I don’t want to talk about that stuff with you, either.”

  “Glad we agree. I want you to still come to me if he steps out of line and needs his ass kicked, okay?”

  Not wanting to insult my best friend when he’s being sweet and protective, I try not to laugh at the idea of Finn fighting Gabriel. “Deal.”

  He grunts and relaxes. “Good.”

  “How was your morning?”

  “Fine. I was just concentrating on the finishing touches of the project I’ve been working on.”

  “Ooh, let’s see.” I sit up and Finn turns around the laptop. The website he’s designed for his client is colorful and professional. The new logo he’s created stands out, and fits with the brand well. “This is amazing. You’re so talented.”

  “Thanks. Do you want to go out? I’m almost done here. I hate working on weekends.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “I was thinking maybe we could walk around Haight-Ashbury? We haven’t been there in a while.”

  “Sounds great. But I need to shower first.”

  “Yeah, you do.”

  I laugh, standing up. “Thanks a lot.”

  He grins. “What are friends for?”

  Later that night, I’m exhausted after the busy day I’ve had. But I’m never too tired to read one of Gabriel’s poems. They’ve become like a lullaby, serenading me to sleep every night.

  Opening the book, I take out the bookmark and start to read tonight’s written lullaby.

  19. Space

  I don’t know if I’ve ever told you,

  That I say your name just to hear it echo through time and space.

  For long after we are gone,

  When our bones have crumbled into ash,

  And all our dreams have been powered into dust,

  People will still hear the whispers of my love for you,

  In the gentle fluttering of a butterfly’s wings,

  And in the quiet breeze rustling through the trees.

  They will feel it as they soak up the endless expanse of the ocean,

  And drown in the depths of the sky.

  The ripples of you will sound through the earth,

  Like aftershocks in the aftermath.

  It’s you they will hear, darling,

  You, you, you.

  You, my precious echo.

  You, who is more infinite than space itself.

  You see,

  The space between your fingers was designed,

  To slot into the space between mine.

  So that when you hold my hand in yours,

  You are holding my life between our joined palms.

  And you know,

  That the space between your lips was meant for my mouth to fill,

  So that I could drink you in and quench my endless thirst,

  For you.

  And yet, there will always be too much space between our bodies.

  I curse bones that stop our souls from kissing,

  I resent the ribs that keep your heart from melting into mine.

  And oh, how I envy the layers of skin shielding your spirit from my sight.

  So please,

  Do not ever ask me for space,

  It is the one thing I cannot give you.

  Ask me for the stars,

  Ask me for the moon,

  Ask me for the sky,

  But do not ask me for space.

  My arms may be wide enough to hold you,

  But they cannot capture all the space you take,

  When you enter a room,

  And when you leave it.

  I run my hands over the goosebumps on my arms. I swear every poem in 50 Ways to Say ‘I Love You’ is more beautiful than the last. The man I had coffee with today and the man who wrote this are almost two different people in my mind. I’m slowly falling for them both.

  My phone vibrating startles me out of my reading. Gabriel and I had exchanged numbers earlier, but I didn’t expect to hear from him.

  Gabriel: Good evening, Ava. I hope this doesn’t wake you.

  Smiling, my fingers fly over the keys.

  Me: You are keeping me awake, but not in the way you think.

  Gabriel: ?

  I take a picture of the poem and send it to him along with the message, “Your words are worth staying up for.” It’s about ten minutes before he replies. I ignore the way my heartbeat picks up and my shoulders lower.

  Gabriel: Ah, I see. Thanks for the compliment. I’m sorry for keeping you from your beauty sleep.

  I laugh out loud at his dry sense of humor. I’m enjoying this exchange more than I should be.

  Me: Are you trying to say I need it?

  Gabriel: I would never dream of saying such a thing. You don’t need any sleep at all.

  Me: Nice save.

  Finn appears in the open doorway of my bedroom. “You okay?”

  “Yes, sorry. I didn’t realize I’d laughed so loud.”

  “Want to share the joke?”

  “Oh, it’s not even that funny. Just something Gabriel said.”

  He grins. “Gabriel, huh? Sharing private jokes already? You don’t waste any time, Ave.”

  I ignore Finn’s tone, which only makes him chuckle more.

  “Well, don’t let me stop your fun. I know you’re new to the whole sexting thing, so it’s important you know that if he asks you for a photo, he doesn’t mean one of your beautiful smile. Don’t do it. And before you block him, send him that photo of Aidan in his police gear. That should do the trick.”

  Finn ducks when I throw a pillow at the door.

  “’Night. Remember to keep it PG-13!”

  His howling laughter trails down the hallway and can still be heard after he’s closed his bedroom door. Shaking my head, I pick up my phone and find two more texts from Gabriel.

  Gabriel: Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you for today. I enjoyed it.

  Gabriel: Are you still there?

  Me: Yes, sorry. Just became distracted for a second.

  Gabriel: Oh. Okay. Good.

  Me: Good?

  The little bubble indicating that he’s writing a response appears and then disappears several times. I can’t keep the smile off my face. His reply comes through after several minutes.

  Gabriel: I just thought you might have fallen asleep.

  Me: No. Still awake. I don’t need any beauty sleep, remember?

  Gabriel: Of course I do. My memory is better than yours.

  I’m so busy laughing that it takes a while for Gabriel’s original text to sink in. When I do, my laughter turns into a smile.

  Me: I enjoyed myself this afternoon, too.

  It’s another two minutes before he replies again. Not that I’m timing it.

  Gabriel: Good. I’m glad.

  I pause in my response when I notice the bubble pop up. I frown when it vanishes before appearing again. Clearing my own text, I wait for whatever it is Gabriel is trying to say.

  Gabriel: Will you be running at the same time tomorrow morning?

  Me: Lol I’m becoming predictable. Maybe we should switch up our routine on the weekends?

  Gabriel: Routine isn’t always bad.

  Me: Okay, let’s keep our bit of stability. I’ll be there. You?

  Gabriel: Me, too.

  My fingers hesitate over the keys. Holding my breath, I press send before I lose my nerve.

  Me: Great. It’s a date.

  The five minutes he takes to reply seem to stretch into hours. Restless, I stand and walk over to my bookshelf, pretending to be busy. The phon
e vibrates as I’m scanning the treasured titles. Ignoring the urge to hurry, I force myself to walk back to my bed at a normal pace.

  Gabriel: Sweet dreams, mariposa.

  Rolling the tension from my shoulders, I climb into bed and switch off the bedside lamp. The white light from my phone casts shadows on the ceiling.

  Me: You, too.

  Unable to judge his reaction, I hold off putting the kiss I end most of my texts with. The politics of modern dating, or whatever this is, are so confusing.

  Lying down on the pillow, I allow the day’s events to flow through my mind. With a secret smile, I drift off to sleep, dreaming of wolves and butterflies.

  “So you know my story, what’s yours?”

  “We all have more than one story, surely?” Gabriel asks me.

  I smile and shake my head. “Do you always have an answer for everything?”

  “Do you always ask so many questions?”

  I laugh around my straw. “Yes. I guess we’re a perfect match.”

  Gabriel takes a sip from his coffee cup. By unspoken, mutual agreement, neither of us wanted to part ways in the park after our run this morning so we went to the café again, but ordered our drinks to go this time. Now, we’re walking around with no clear sense of direction.

  “Well, at least tell me one of your stories. You don’t have to share the whole book.”

  Gabriel smiles down at me. “You don’t give up, do you?”

  “Nope. Stubbornness is a family trait. If you think I’m bad, you should meet my mom. She makes me look like a pushover.”

  “There are two of you?”

  “Yep, and you’d do well to remember that. Nice try at distracting me, though.”

  He chuckles. “Have you ever thought about journalism?”