His Heart

by Claire Kingsley

  The problem was, it was hard to give a shit.

  I felt as if I’d died when Liam had. It wasn’t that I was suicidal. Even in the darkest days after the accident, I hadn’t wanted to end my life. But I didn’t really care if I lived, either.

  I was a ghost, cursed with the torture of half-existence. Moving through the world as if I were alive. But all the important parts of me were dead. All that was left was a shell.

  Sometimes I wondered if people could see through me. Did I look as washed out as I felt? Translucent, like a pale gossamer curtain blowing in the wind? Would I eventually fade into nothingness?

  After I lost Liam, I’d tried. Tried so hard to keep myself together. I’d gone back to school when the new semester had started. Went to work. Did my homework. Paid my bills. For a while, anyway.

  But little by little, I’d stopped doing those things. And of course, there had been consequences. Fail enough classes, and your admission is revoked. Miss enough work, and you get fired. Don’t pay your bills, and things get shut off.

  Did any of it matter, if I wasn’t really alive?

  The band finished their set and Jared worked his way over to me. Took his time, stopping to talk to some girl in a black halter top, her boobs spilling out. She looked like most of the girls in this place—rocker girls with lots of makeup, bright red lips, dressed in black. I stood out like a nun in a whorehouse in this place, with my breezy white peasant blouse, cut-off jeans, and collection of beaded bracelets on my wrists. But I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to change how I dressed for some guy.

  Jared met my eyes again and sauntered through the crowd, like the fucking peacock he was. His shirt halfway unbuttoned, ripped jeans slung low on his hips.

  “Hey, baby doll,” he said. His eyes flicked to Rick behind the bar. “Shot of Jack. And another one for my girl.”

  I finished off the last of my current drink. If Jared was buying more, I wasn’t saying no.

  “How’d we sound tonight?” He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and stuck one between his lips, then offered one to me.

  I only smoked when I was drunk, but I was close enough. I took it between two fingers. “You sounded good.”

  “Just good?” he asked, taking the cigarette out of his mouth. Rick slid his drink across the bar and Jared downed it in one swallow.

  “Is your ego really that sensitive?” I asked. “If you need someone to flatter you, try Miss Huge Tits in the halter top over there.”

  “God, I love it when you get jealous,” he said.

  I laughed and took the shot of whiskey, but didn’t bother to correct him. If he wanted to think I was jealous, that was fine. I didn’t feel much of anything, so what did it matter?

  “Come on, baby doll,” he said. “I need a smoke.”

  He wrapped a possessive arm around me as we walked through the bar, heading for the door. Outside, the heat was still thick. It was unseasonably warm for spring, even in Phoenix.

  “Fucking heat,” Jared muttered as he lit his cigarette. “Shouldn’t be so goddamn hot this time of year. Sometimes I think we should get the fuck out of this place.”

  He lit mine and I took a drag. Blew out the smoke. Jared talked about leaving Phoenix all the time—usually to move to L.A. “Yeah, the heat sucks.”

  His phone dinged and he pulled it out of his pocket. Typed something. I wandered up the sidewalk, my cigarette dangling from my fingers. I didn’t really want it, so I just let it burn. The smoke curled upward as the ash on the tip grew. I paused and stared at it, seeing her. Standing over me in the street, a cigarette pinched between her fingers. Still burning while she hit me. Liam’s voice behind me. What the hell are you doing?

  I don’t know, Liam. I don’t know what I’m doing.

  “Hey. Got a light?”

  I hadn’t noticed the guy come up beside me. Too lost in my own head. He was dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans, a battered baseball cap on his head. He held up a cigarette and raised his eyebrows.

  “Sorry, I don’t.”

  He shrugged and tucked the cigarette behind his ear. “No big deal.”

  “You can have mine,” I said, offering my half-burned cigarette. “I’m kind of just holding it. It’s going to waste.”

  One corner of his mouth tugged upward as he took it from me. Placed his lips around the tip and inhaled. Turned and blew out the smoke. “That would have been better if you’d have left some lipstick on the tip.”

  I stepped backward. “That wasn’t an invitation to hit on me. Sorry.”

  The guy opened his mouth to say something, but Jared pushed his way between us.

  “Move on, asshole,” Jared said.

  “Hey, I was just—”

  “You were just getting the fuck out of here,” Jared said.

  The guy seemed to decide it wasn’t worth the confrontation. With a half-glare, half-smile that seemed to say she’s not worth the trouble, he turned and walked away.

  Jared grabbed my wrist and pulled me closer. “What the hell was that?”

  His grip was tight, digging into my skin. “Nothing. He asked if I had a lighter.”

  “You know that guy?”

  “No. God, Jared, let go. That hurts.”

  Twisting my arm painfully, he squeezed harder. “Don’t fucking do that again. I don’t like it.” He let go and I clutched my wrist to my body. “I want to get out of here. I’ll go get the bike.”

  Without waiting for my reply, he turned and left, heading up the street to where he’d parked his motorcycle.

  I rubbed my wrist. He’d left red marks in the shape of his fingers. It burned, like a demon singed by holy water. I almost expected to see hissing smoke rising from the redness.

  In another life, I would have written that down. Now, I didn’t have anything with me to write on.

  My phone rang, the noise making me jump. I pulled it out of my pocket and my breath froze in my lungs as I stared at the name on the screen.

  Mary Harper.

  It had been months since Liam’s mom had last tried to call. I hadn’t answered that time. I’d texted her a few days later, apologizing for missing her call and promising to call back. I hadn’t.

  In fact, it had been almost two years since I’d seen any of Liam’s family. I’d pushed them away so hard, they’d eventually stopped trying. Plus, the last time I’d seen Olivia, she’d made it clear how she felt about me. That had been more than enough to keep me away.

  “Hello?” I heard my own voice as if it were outside of me—someone else speaking. Had I answered her call? What the fuck was I thinking? Maybe I was drunker than I thought.

  “Brooke?” Mary’s voice. So familiar. So kind. It pushed at the ache in my chest, stirring it up so the pain felt almost fresh. “Brooke, is that you?”

  “Yeah,” I said, hoping I sounded clear. I didn’t want her to know I’d been drinking.

  “I’m so glad I reached you,” she said. “How are you?”

  God, that question. But I was good at lying about it. “I’m good. Fine. Just kind of tired. It’s late.”

  “I know, I’m sorry for calling so late,” she said. “I need to talk to you about something. It’s important. Do you have a minute?”

  “Sure.”

  “We’ve been in touch with someone,” she said. “One of the organ recipients.”

  Her words didn’t register at first. Organ recipients? She couldn’t mean…

  “What?”

  “Four years ago, a young man in Iowa needed a heart transplant,” she said. “He received Liam’s heart.”

  His heart? It felt like I couldn’t breathe—like my lungs were caught in a vise. “Really?”

  “Yes,” she said. “He wrote to us. And, well, we’ve invited him to meet, here in Phoenix. That’s why I’m calling. We were hoping you would come.”

  I swallowed hard, trying to hold myself together. “When?”

  “Tomorrow afternoon,” she said. “We’re meeting for lunch at Nora’s Kitchen, do you
remember that restaurant? I’m not sure where you’re living now, but if you need a ride, I’m sure we could come pick you up.”

  Pick me up? Wait, no. This was moving too fast. “No, you wouldn’t need to do that. I know where that is.”

  “I know this is difficult,” she said. “But I think it will be a positive experience for all of us. Show us the good that came from Liam’s death.”

  I bit my bottom lip to keep from shouting at her. Nothing good had come from Liam’s death. Not a single fucking thing. I didn’t care about some asshole in Iowa who’d needed a heart. Why was his life so special? Liam had been taken from me—from all of us—and nothing was ever going to make that okay.

  But I didn’t want to make Mary feel bad. I’d done enough of that already. “I’m just not sure if I can make it tomorrow.”

  “I’m sorry, I should have given you more notice. And if you just… well, if you just can’t, I certainly understand. I know how hard this is.”

  Goddammit, why did she have to be so good? I knew they were disappointed in me, but Mary was always understanding. Sometimes I wished she’d just yell at me. Get angry. Call me names and lay the blame for everything at my feet. At least I’d deserve it.

  But I desperately wanted to make her happy. She’d been a better mother to me than mine ever had, and I knew I’d hurt her by pushing her away after Liam died.

  It wasn’t just the pain of seeing his family. That was hard. But I didn’t want her to know—didn’t want any of them to know—what a mess I’d become. How far I’d fallen. I was ashamed of myself for falling apart and not being strong enough to put the pieces back together.

  Still, I found myself answering. “Yeah, okay. I might be able to come.”

  “Yes?” She seemed to cover the phone or turn to speak to someone else. Probably Brian. “Yes, she said she might come.” Clearer, now. “We would all love it so much if you did. We’ve missed you.”

  Not all of you.

  “So, I guess I’ll just meet you there?”

  “Yes, meet us there at noon,” she said. “Thank you, honey. We’re all looking forward to seeing you.”

  Jared pulled up beside me, the roar of his motorcycle making it impossible to hear.

  “Um, I have to go,” I said, half-shouting into the phone. I couldn’t hear if she replied.

  My hands shook as I ended the call. What had I done? I’d just agreed to see the Harpers. Tomorrow. To meet the man who’d received Liam’s heart, of all things.

  I’d been in some messed up situations in the last few years, but this took the cake, hands down.

  I put my phone in my pocket and climbed on the back of the bike, slipping my arms around Jared’s waist. Out of nowhere, I swore I could hear Mary’s voice, asking me why I wasn’t wearing a helmet.

  Because it doesn’t matter, that’s why.

  “Ready, baby doll?” Jared asked, raising his voice to be heard over the rumbling engine.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  He pulled out onto the street and hit the gas. My body thrilled at the sudden burst of speed. The danger. The wind blew my hair back from my face and I leaned over just enough to watch the lights race toward us. Alcohol and speed was a potent combination, one of the few things that worked anymore. One of the few things that made me feel as if I were still alive.

  15

  Sebastian

  A wave of nervousness hit me as I stood outside the restaurant. This was it. I was about to meet the family of the man whose heart had saved my life.

  The trip down here had only taken a couple of days. Charlie and I had taken turns driving and stopped at a cheap motel in the middle of nowhere for a night. We’d arrived in Phoenix last night, tired and cramped from so many hours on the road.

  A bead of sweat trailed down my back as I opened the door. Cool air-conditioned air wrapped around me when I stepped inside. I hesitated near the front, wondering if the Harpers were here yet. I was a few minutes early. Charlie had stayed behind at the hotel.

  I recognized Mrs. Harper the second I saw her. Shoulder-length blond hair. Blue eyes. I’d seen her picture—looked her up on Facebook. She met my eyes and even from across the restaurant, I could see her gasp in a small breath.

  A man who looked to be about fifty or so sat across from her. He was lean, in a button-down shirt, his hair mostly gray. He reached across the table and rested his hand on hers.

  The other person at the table was a young woman, maybe about my age. She was either Liam’s sister, or his girlfriend. Had to be sister. She looked like their mom—pretty, with blond hair, blue eyes, and a similar mouth.

  They all stood as I approached their table. I was several inches taller than Mr. Harper, and a lot thicker, but I was used to being the big guy. I didn’t crowd their space, but stepped close enough to reach out and shake his hand.

  “Sebastian McKinney,” I said. Mr. Harper took my hand and shook, introducing himself. I shook Mrs. Harper’s hand, and she introduced me to Olivia. Definitely the sister.

  Olivia shook my hand and stared at me, wide-eyed. “Wow, you’re huge. Does my brother’s heart really work in your body, or do you need two of them?”

  Mrs. Harper gaped at her daughter. “Olivia.”

  “It’s a fair question,” Olivia said. “Look at him.”

  “Maybe we should all just have a seat,” Mr. Harper said.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I’m used to it.”

  I sat at the end of the table, with Mr. Harper on my right, Mrs. Harper and Olivia on my left.

  “We’re so grateful you were willing to come all this way,” Mrs. Harper said.

  “I’m happy to,” I said. “It’s the least I can do.”

  A moment of awkward quiet settled over the table. Just as I was about to say something, the waitress came. We gave her our lunch orders—Olivia raised her eyebrows at me when I ordered a salad with grilled chicken—and she left ice waters for each of us.

  “So, what was wrong with you?” Olivia asked. “Why did you need a heart?”

  It looked like Mrs. Harper was going to apologize for Olivia, but I held up a hand. “It’s fine, really. You can ask me anything. And I figured you’d want to know what happened to me.”

  They watched intently as I told my story. I didn’t want to make it sound melodramatic, but I was honest. I left a few things out—particularly Cami. They didn’t need to know about her. Mr. Harper had a lot of questions about my illness, and I did my best to answer. And they all wanted to know how I was doing now. Partway through, the waitress brought our lunches, and I continued talking while we ate.

  It made me feel good to be able to tell them I was healthy now. Their son’s heart hadn’t gone to waste.

  “What an amazing journey you’ve had,” Mrs. Harper said.

  “I don’t really know how to say this and have it come out right,” I said. “I struggle with knowing that my second chance at life brought someone else a lot of pain. But I want you to know how grateful I am.”

  Mrs. Harper reached across the table and put her hand over mine. “We’re grateful too. We miss Liam terribly. Nothing will ever take his place. But it helps so much to know that something good came out of that tragedy.”

  I nodded, feeling a little choked up. Damn, this was tough. I’d only just met these people, and I felt like I’d known them my whole life. Like they were somehow my family, too.

  Tears rolled down Olivia’s cheeks and she wiped them away. “Oh my god. This is the craziest thing. I’m so pissed Brooke isn’t here. She really needs to meet you.”

  “Maybe she’s just running late,” Mrs. Harper said.

  “Doubt it,” Olivia said, rolling her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” Mrs. Harper said. “Brooke was Liam’s fiancée. We invited her to join us, and she said she’d be here. We actually haven’t seen her for quite some time.”

  “I don’t blame her,” I said. “If I were in her shoes, I don’t think I’d want to meet me either.”


  Mr. and Mrs. Harper exchanged a sad look.

  “I wish I’d have done more for her,” Mrs. Harper said.

  “Grief can make it hard to do the right thing for the living,” Mr. Harper said. “We did our best at the time.”

  “Yeah, Mom, you need to stop beating yourself up about her,” Olivia said. “It’s not your fault.”

  “You’re right, I know,” Mrs. Harper said. “We’ll give her more time. Maybe she’ll still come.”

  They asked me more questions and the conversation lightened. They wanted to know about Iowa, and my family. Turned out Mr. Harper was a sports fan, and he chimed in with more questions. I told them about losing to Charlie junior year. How we’d become friends after I’d gotten sick, and how he’d come to Phoenix with me.

  Then we talked about Liam. I wanted to know all I could about the man, but I hadn’t been sure if they’d want to talk about him. But rather than being sad or somber, their reminiscing was filled with fondness. They brought out some pictures. Told me what he’d been like as a kid. The sports he’d played as he got older. About meeting in Brooke in high school, and how she’d eventually come to live with them.

  We ate and talked and even laughed. I loved hearing about Liam, and the more we talked about him, the more the sadness seemed to lift.

  When our meal was finished, and the server had cleared our plates, Mrs. Harper reached out and touched my hand again. “Thank you, Sebastian. This meant so much to us.”

  “Me too, Mrs. Harper,” I said. “I’m really glad I got to meet all of you.”

  As we said our goodbyes, the Harpers all glanced toward the front door several times. Probably hoping Brooke would show at the last minute.

  I couldn’t explain why, but I hoped so too. Every time they’d mentioned her name, I’d felt a tightness in my chest. A tingling in my limbs. Like a foreboding, a sense that something was about to happen. But she hadn’t come, and I was filled with an inexplicable sense of disappointment. I had no idea why. I didn’t know her. I had no reason to be so concerned.

  But I was. I was filled with unease. Why hadn’t she come? Was it simply that she’d decided it would be too difficult to meet me? That was understandable. But I couldn’t get rid of the sense that something deeper was wrong. Not as we finished up our conversation, talking about meeting again, maybe in Iowa this time. Not as we stood and exchanged long hugs, the embraces bringing both Mrs. Harper and Olivia to tears again.