This Old Heart of Mine

by A. J. Compton

  “No. Enough. I am not going to lose you, do you understand? You’re not going to leave me, and I’m not going to leave you, so why are we even talking about this?”

  “Because it’s important to me.”

  “You’re important to me.”

  “I know, sweetheart. And you’re everything to me. I hate seeing you so upset. Look, just promise me you’ll remember and we’ll never speak about it again, okay?”

  Jaw grinding, I nod.

  “Good. Now, show me how much you love me.”

  Loving her, I can do. Losing her, I can’t. Rolling her underneath me, I connect our bodies and silence any further talk of them ever being apart.

  I’d been so angry when I found out she’d signed up for the donor registry. I didn’t object to the idea in principle, but I believed that in reality it meant doctors wouldn’t try all they could to save her. Now, I don’t know what I believe.

  But I’d once believed in love, in hope, in happiness. I’d once believed in a beautiful woman who spoke to my soul, and she believed in me back. My life was better for having Charlotte Cruz in it. Now other people’s lives will be, too.

  Dr. Stevens discusses certain details with me before she leaves. My wife’s vibrant life is reduced to a piece of paper that I have to sign.

  “Can I see her?” I ask as she walks to the door.

  “I’m afraid that due to the time-sensitive nature of donation, you’ll have to wait for quite a while, but I’ll make sure you can as soon as possible. It will be several hours, though.”

  I nod. “I’ll have to wait a lifetime to see her again, what are a few hours?”

  Dr. Stevens doesn’t say anything back to that, but really, what can she say? Lowering her sad brown eyes, she leaves.

  With no one left to love,

  And nothing left to say,

  I wait.

  The body in front of me is not my wife.

  It once belonged to her. But she is no longer here.

  I walk toward the lifeless corpse on unsteady feet. Bruises and stitches mar what once was flawless skin. This is not the same skin I’ve memorized like my own. Not the same one that has slid, and caressed, and rubbed against mine over the years. The one I have kissed tears and sweat and love from.

  I stare down at the stranger for the longest while. Her closed eyes don’t stare back.

  A few hours ago, she was brightness and warmth. Full of life.

  Now, she is colorless and cold. And both of the lives she held inside her are gone from this world. And from me.

  Desolation grips my throat. I need to get out of here. Struggling to breathe, I lean over and press a kiss against cold, blue lips. A solitary tear falls onto the place my wife once lived.

  “You’ve taken the sun with you,” I whisper in Spanish. “I wish you’d taken me with you instead.”

  I stroke my finger down her frozen cheek, longing to feel heat or see a blush. “It will be winter until I see you again, my love.”

  With a final kiss to her bruised forehead and a kiss to the space where our baby used to be, I clench my eyes shut and turn around to leave.

  This is not my last memory of them.

  My last memory of them, the last kiss, was earlier.

  With a wife who smiled as she told me she loved me. And a baby who responded to just the sound of her daddy’s voice.

  That was the last moment. The final memory. The ultimate good-bye.

  This moment, this right here, is nothing but a nightmare.

  I stare up at the place I once called home, not wanting to take a step into it without my wife. Every step away from that hospital is a step toward a life without her in it. So I stand and stare for hours. Memories assault my mind as I stare up at the building. Beyond it, love and laughter are etched into the walls.

  When a neighbor asks if I’m okay, I’m surprised to find it’s dark outside. Not wanting to deal with the inevitable, or speak and make it real, I nod away their concern and head inside. I’m hit by the scent and presence of my wife. She’s everywhere. I lean against the wall with my eyes closed and breathe her in. This is what was missing at the hospital. Here, she is still alive. At least until her scent escapes out of the windows and the pictures on the walls start to fade.

  My body walks up the stairs on autopilot, ignoring our bedroom. I won’t be sleeping there tonight. I pause outside the open nursery door. The unfinished crib stands proud in the center of the room, taunting me.

  Scalding hot tears spill over as I stare at the object that represents all my happiness and hope. My eyes narrow and rage builds inside me. From somewhere deep inside, a hoarse cry erupts from my chest. Blinded by red mist, I rush toward the crib and rip it apart with my bare hands. Splinters coated in blood fly everywhere as I tear my dreams to shreds.

  It’s fitting that it takes less time to break than it did to build. Just like my life. All it took was the blink of an eye for everything to come crashing down around me.

  In a trance, I bash planks of wood against the murals on the wall until they break. I relish the bite of pain when a stray piece of wood slices above my eye. It’s not enough. It’s nowhere near enough for what I’m feeling inside. I keep going until my body is numb and blood stains my vision.

  When all the wood is as broken as my heart, I slump to the floor and let out the tortured howl of a wounded animal. Pain spills out of my eyes and my lips. My hands sting when I bring them up to my eyes. I pull them away, noticing the blood and imbedded bits of wood on my palms for the first time. I wipe my eyes on my arm, but fresh red tears appear.

  This is no longer human pain. This is painfully personal.

  My blurry eyes land on a jagged piece of wood. And I consider it. Consider joining my disappeared wife and daughter. I reach for the wood, but my shaking hand stops above it. Enough of Charlotte’s presence remains in this room to hear what she’ll never be able to say. She would want me to keep living. If not for me, then for her. I was always powerless to deny her wishes.

  Clenching my hands into a painful fist, I move away from the wood. Unable to end my pain, all I can do is feel it.

  So I sit among the broken pieces of my life and cry for all that was.

  And all that will never be.

  Ava

  Present day

  I understand now what it means to have a heavy heart. One so weighted down with pain that it sits in your chest like an anchor, pulling you under.

  I also understand why they call it a ribcage. My heart… her heart… thumps against my bones like a bird desperate to be set free.

  It’s been a week since lies gave way to the truth. An awful, lonely, confusing week. Gabriel and I haven’t spoken since he left my apartment that day. Or rather, he’s tried speaking to me, but I just can’t. I’m not ready.

  My brain still hasn’t processed the full implications of having his wife’s heart inside my body, or the fact he knew about it. Every time I start to think about my predicament, I become so overwhelmed and confused that my mind shuts down.

  I just want to stay in bed and pull the covers over my head until it’s time to wake up from this nightmare.

  What makes it even harder, is that I want to offer Gabriel comfort. Every day, my anger and confusion battle with my love and sympathy. There are no winners in this situation. Only losers.

  “Come on. Time to get up.”

  I burrow deeper into my comforter. Maybe he won’t see me. I groan when cold air hits my skin and I’m pushed into the light. Finn looks down at me with my covers gripped in his hand.

  “Nice try.”

  “I was sleeping.”

  “No, you were sulking, like you have been for the past week. You’ve become that guest who overstays her welcome at the Pity Party. What is it Gia always says? ‘Don’t be that girl.’ Time to come back home, Ave.”

  Pushing my tangled hair out of my face, I sit up and huff. “I hate you sometimes.”

  “No, you hate when I’m right. But you love me always.”<
br />
  Grumbling, I uncross my arms to take the smoothie he’s holding out for me. The cool liquid refreshes my dry throat. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. So. What do you want to do today? And if you say sleep, or cry, I’m going to throw your bed out of the window. This isn’t you, Ave.” He takes a seat on the side of the bed. A flashback of him visiting me on my deathbed a couple of years ago comes to mind. The poignant memory puts my current predicament into perspective.

  I sit up straighter and brush my hair out of my face. “I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

  The blinding happiness on Finn’s face is infectious. For the first time in seven days, a genuine smile forms on my lips. “There’s my girl. I knew she was still in there somewhere. Welcome back.”

  “Thanks. I think she’s just visiting, though.”

  His hand covers mine. “I know your situation is still a mess. I know the pain and confusion hasn’t gone away. But don’t waste your second shot at life. No matter who gave you that chance.”

  I squeeze his hand in response. “When did you get so wise?”

  “Oh, I’m not. You’re the brains behind this operation. I’m just holding down the fort while you’re… on vacation.”

  A tiny smile lifts my cheeks. “The vacation from hell, you mean?”

  He grins. “That’s the one.”

  “I thought vacations were supposed to be fun?” I say, taking another sip of my drink.

  “You want to have fun?” I nod, intrigued by the glint in his eyes. “I know just the place.”

  “Admit it. I want to hear you say it.”

  “Fine. You were right. It’s impossible to be sad at a zoo.”

  “Right? I keep telling you, I’m a legend. They should have a plaque in my honor here.”

  “Good idea. You’d fit right in at the zoo.”

  I run from Finn when he makes a grab for me. The noise that escapes my lips startles me. I was beginning to forget what it sounded like. I’m so taken aback by my laughter that I don’t notice when Finn wraps his arms around my waist.

  “You’re going to pay for that.”

  I squeal as he lifts me off my feet and continues to walk, wriggling in his arms when I realize where he’s heading. Young children giggle at our antics, while their parents shake their heads. As Finn hitches me up on his chest, I catch the eye of an elderly lady with a man I assume is her husband. She smiles back with a cloudy look in her eyes. As if she’s not seeing me, but the past.

  Maybe they think we’re a young, loved-up couple on a date. But I don’t mind. All I care about is the fact that I’m smiling and laughing, and feeling an emotion other than total devastation.

  Finn stops in front of the trash can. “Anything you want to say for yourself, Ms. Malone?”

  “I’m sorry.” I shriek with laughter as Finn takes a step closer to the garbage before putting me back on my feet.

  “Apology accepted. It was worth it just to hear you laughing again.”

  After we’ve recovered our breath, I slide my arm around his waist, while he places his arm over my shoulder. We start to walk again, as if nothing happened. “So which animals did you want to see next?” he asks me.

  “I don’t know. I’m like a kid in a candy store right now. This is too much excitement. I’m overwhelmed.” That seems to be happening to me a lot lately.

  Finn laughs. “I know what you mean. I don’t know why we haven’t done this sooner.”

  “Better late than never. This place is like Disneyland.”

  “Somewhere else we need to go,” Finn says, reminding me of all the plans we’ve made but have yet to do.

  I look up at him. “Absolutely. Let’s plan a trip.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Of course. I’m already excited.” I clap my hands, holding onto the giant dolphin balloon Finn bought me earlier.

  “God, I can already see it now. You’re going to be a nightmare.”

  “Me? Like you’re not going to fanboy over Mickey Mouse?”

  “No comment.”

  I giggle. “Do you think it’s weird that we’re twenty-four and going to the zoo and Disneyland?”

  He looks at me as if I’ve just asked him whether he would kill a puppy. “Are you kidding? There’s no age limit to those places. Why should little kids get all the fun? They’re not even old enough to appreciate it. Besides, we get a free pass.”

  “We do?”

  “Yes, because we never got to do those things when we were kids. We’re not having a second childhood, we’re having a first.”

  “Even though we’re adults.”

  “Says who?”

  “Um, the law? Society?”

  “Law schmaw. Being an adult is a state of mind, not an age. It’s optional.”

  My whole body shakes with my laughter. I almost let go of the balloon string. “I don’t think it works that way.”

  He shrugs. “Sure, it does. This morning, for example, I was trying to get you out of bed, so I decided to be an adult. Now, we’re at the zoo, so I’m choosing to embrace my inner child. Simple.”

  My eyebrow arches. “Life is really that simple?”

  “It can be. Adults are the ones who make things complicated, because they lose sight of the children deep inside them. I’ve got young Finn firmly in my line of vision. That kid is going nowhere or he’s getting grounded. Where’s little Ava?”

  Good question. The answer is that I don’t know. I used to feel connected with her, but now all I can focus on is the other connection I have. The one I don’t want.

  Maybe Finn has a point. Maybe I am making my life more complicated than it needs to be. I’ve over-analyzed this situation to death. I’ve been so focused on trying to make the pieces of the puzzle fit that I haven’t considered just making my own picture, the way a child would.

  “What would you do if you were in my situation?” I ask Finn as we sit on a bench and watch the giraffes. Their quiet grace calms me. “If you had fallen head over heels in love with Robbie’s girlfriend without realizing?”

  “I don’t know, Ave. I really don’t. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling. But maybe…” He shakes his head.

  “What? Please tell me.”

  “I was going to say, maybe the choice isn’t between hearts, or lives, or even people. Maybe it’s simpler than that.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, maybe in the end, it all comes down to whether you and Gabriel want to spend the rest of your lives looking back, or looking forward.”

  The simple truth in that statement reverberates through my bones. I think about Gabriel, how happy he’s made me over the last year. He makes me want to focus on tomorrows not yesterdays.

  But as much as I’d love it to be that easy, it’s anything but. As tempting as it is right now, the fact is I’m not a kid anymore. I’m an adult. One who complicates things, yes. But one who also knows that in order to enjoy my tomorrows, I have to deal with all my yesterdays.

  Even the ones that don’t belong to me. And especially the ones that hurt.

  My day out with Finn gave me a lot to think about. It also gave me a new way of thinking. But I still don’t have the answers or clarity I need, so I’m looking for them in a painful place.

  Pulling out a tissue from the box by my bed, I scrub at my eyes before continuing to read. I don’t know why I’m doing this to myself. I don’t know if it’s helping, but it’s definitely hurting.

  My head swings up at the sound of a gentle tap on my door. I drop the book and push it away. Faking a smile, I clear my throat. “Come in. Mom, hey.”

  “Hi, sweetheart. Finley let me in on his way out. He thought you were sleeping, so he left you a note. I just wanted to check on you before I cooked you dinner.”

  My smile becomes more genuine. I walk over and hug her. “You’re going to cook for me?” My stomach growls making my mom laugh and pull away.

  “Of course. You look like you haven’t eaten in a month. Are you eat
ing properly? Are you looking after yourself? Are you taking your medication every day?”

  “Yes, Mom.” She squints at my tone.

  “I am, I promise. I’d never stop taking my anti-rejection meds. I know how important they are. I’m depressed, not suicidal,” I tell her, rolling my eyes.

  She continues to search my face for a few seconds before nodding. “Okay. Well, I decided to cook chicken soup. It’s the cure for everything. Body aches and heart aches.”

  “Thanks, Ma. That’s so sweet of you.”

  “How are you doing, darling?” she asks as we walk back to my bed and sit down.

  “I’ve been better.”

  “I’m sure. How’s Gabriel doing?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The faint wrinkles on her forehead deepen. “What do you mean, you don’t know? You haven’t spoken?” I shake my head. “Oh, Ava…”

  “I know, I know. It’s just so difficult. I want to talk to him, and I know I need to, but I wanted to work it out in my head first. I just want to understand how I feel about it all before I add his feelings into the mix.”

  “Sweetheart, that’s a rather selfish way of thinking. I didn’t raise you to be that way.”

  I shift back, offended. “I’m not being selfish. I care about him and his feelings, more than I wish I did. I’m just hurt. I feel betrayed and confused. He lied to me for a whole year, Mom. He made me fall in love with him, knowing that our connection was even deeper than it seemed. This isn’t just a tiny secret, it’s life-changing. How am I supposed to get over that? I think I’m allowed to be upset and angry.”

  “Of course, you are. No one is saying that.”

  “Then what are you saying?” I ask her, my mouth tightening.

  “I’m saying that you have all these questions, but you’re not talking to the only person who can answer them.” Her voice is gentle, disarming me.

  I twist my fingers in the comforter. “I think I’m scared of what those answers might be,” I admit.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m worried that he never truly loved me. Not like I loved him,” I say in a tiny voice, unable to meet her eyes.