“He was asking about you earlier actually.” Mark’s looking at me, waiting for me to take the bait and he won’t have to wait long, I can’t help myself.
None of the guys from our school are interested in me – I’m fairly certain they all know my history by now and honestly, I think I scare them.
Scott doesn’t know me, or my history and he’s really, really cute.
I only spoke to him briefly when we arrived, but he seems nice enough too.
“What did he say?”
Mark opens his mouth to tell me, but he’s cut off before he can get a word in.
“I just asked who the pretty girl with the dark hair was.”
The voice comes from behind me, and if I wasn’t bright red already, I would be now.
“I toooolllld yoooou.” Lucy giggles.
I’ve never cursed my best friend the way I’m doing in my mind right now.
She’s got a lot to answer for, but I’m going to wait until tomorrow morning, when she’s really feeling those tequila shots she just knocked back and deal with her then.
I turn around slowly, wishing the whole time that the ground would just swallow me whole.
I come face to face with the guy who just called me pretty and the first thing that strikes me is how kind his eyes are.
Not only is he saying something that I’ve never heard from a guy my age, but he’s looking at me as though he likes what he sees, and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with that.
Where Lucy has a long list of male suitors, I have a very, very short one.
So short in fact, you can’t even see it.
While most girls in my year are discussing how and when they lost their virginity, I’ve never even had a real kiss.
Sure, I’ve kissed boys, but I’m under no illusion that a peck on the lips during a game of spin the bottle counts as a real kiss.
I’ve never felt passion, or heat… lust has never even been on my radar.
I’ve long wished to feel a tingling up my spine from a boy touching my skin… but it hasn’t happened, and I’d pretty comfortably bet everything I own on knowing the reason why.
It’s the same reason for everything that hinders my life – my stupid heart.
“As your totally sober friend said, I’m Scott,” he jokes as he smiles at me.
I glance over my shoulder and see that Lucy is being led away by Mark, who is shooting me a not so subtle thumbs up.
“I’m really sorry about her. I should not have told her it was a good idea to do shots.”
He laughs and kicks at something with the toe of his shoe.
“I’m Violet,” I add before I lose my nerve any more than I already have.
“I know,” he replies sheepishly. “I wasn’t joking when I said I’d asked about you.”
Butterflies are fluttering around like crazy in my stomach as he speaks.
“Do you want to get a drink?” he asks. He looks as nervous as I am and I’m grateful for it.
I shake my head. “Nah, I’m good… I don’t really drink.”
He looks relieved. “I’m driving, so me either.”
There’s a lot of loud banging and we both look into the kitchen where Lucy appears to be playing a pot like a drum.
He shakes his head and laughs at her. “You want to come and sit outside with me?”
“Nah I’d rather stay in here and listen to that.”
He eyes me curiously like he’s not really sure if I’m joking or serious.
“Sarcasm,” I explain with a smile. “Please… let’s go.”
We’re sitting so close, and I know it’s only a matter of time before he kisses me.
My side is pressed up against his and my shoulders are covered by his jacket.
It got chilly out here on the front porch about an hour ago but neither of us wanted to go inside.
If I could stay out here and talk to him for the rest of the night, and not have to go back in there at all, I would choose to do exactly that.
Parties might not be my thing… but this, sitting and talking with a guy who is actually interested in me is like a dream come true.
He’s holding my hand – and those tingles I’ve longed for – they’re racing up and down my spine nonstop.
As August would say, he’s ‘giving me all the feels’.
He’s from out of town, and while it makes me sad to think that I’ll probably never see him again, on the other hand I’m glad.
I wouldn’t want to ruin tonight by bringing my heart into the picture.
Tonight, I’m just a girl, who’s about to be kissed by a boy.
Neither of us has spoken a word for at least a few minutes and I can feel the tension building between us.
I can hear his breathing and I can feel his strong pulse where his wrist is resting against mine. He’s so alive – and he wants me.
I tilt my head up in his direction and look at his face.
He’s handsome, so handsome I almost can’t believe he’s spent the past two hours out here with me.
His free hand lifts to find my face and before I know it, his lips are on mine.
They’re soft and warm and they’re kissing me.
I kiss him back and even though I have no idea what I’m doing, I don’t think this could be any more perfect.
My breathing is laboured in a way that has nothing to do with my heart condition as he pulls away and smiles at me.
Someone inside lets out a loud ‘yeeee-haaaa’ and I can’t help but agree.
This fragment in time, where I can still feel his lips on mine, and my head rests on his shoulder is the most ‘ye-ha’ moment of my life so far.
Violet
Present day
I glance out my small window and into the hallway of the ward beyond.
I’ve taken to watching people to fill my time – there’s not a lot else for me to do in here.
I try to figure out who the strangers strolling past are, why they’re here, who they love, what they do… I make up stories in my mind about them. I’m probably dead wrong about it all, but it doesn’t matter, in my mind, that’s who they are.
That’s the thing about people… about all of us. Who’s to say who we really are?
The me that I believe I am, the me that I think the world sees, might not be me at all… it’s hard to look at yourself as something outside of your own mind, but that’s what I try to imagine as I lie here, the rain pelting against my window.
I’m the sick girl.
The girl with the bad heart.
That’s what most people see when they look at me.
I know it’s not what Lucy sees… or Auggie, or Charlie.
I know they think about my heart, but they can all see me for the person that I am outside of my condition, the person that I am to them.
I know that my mum mainly feels concern when she looks at me. She’s apprehensive about everything and anything that a person could possibly worry about.
For years she’s worried that the cough I picked up is going to turn into a chest infection, which means my body would have to work extra hard to fight it. She’s worried what that strain might mean for my heart.
She worries that it’ll fail.
Every little thing that happens to me results in my mum worrying about me ending up in heart failure.
I can see it in her eyes. I can feel her brain making those leaps.
I could stub my toe and she would still worry about my heart giving out.
That’s been the case for as long as I can remember, and it still rings true to this day – and I guess in a way she was right to lose sleep the way she did, because here I am… in heart failure, so of course she’s worrying more than she ever has.
The only person capable of reigning my mother in these days is Aunt Rita. Even Dad doesn’t have that power anymore.
It’s fortunate really, that where Mum’s superpower has been worry, Dad’s has been patience. That man seriously has the patience of a saint
.
People look at our family, and they see the woman who does it all, she takes care of her sick daughter, she’s a mum, a wife, and the house is somehow always clean and tidy.
What they probably don’t see is that Dad is the glue holding it all together – he’s literally been holding her together since the day I was born.
I would hate to think of how many meltdowns Mum would have had by now if it weren’t for dad and his rational thinking. It’s worked for years and years, but now, when I’m confined to a bed in a way I haven’t been for a long time, it seems to have lost its effectiveness.
No amount of soothing words or well-meaning suggestions on dad’s behalf have reached her since I arrived here.
Aunt Rita has a different approach. She’s abrupt to the point of being rude and that seems to work for now. Just earlier she told Mum that she stunk, that she needed to, and I quote, ‘bugger off home for a shower’.
That’s what I love about Rita. No one messes with her. We just all simply do what we’re told when she’s involved. There really is no other way.
“What are you thinking about there, kiddo?” she interrupts my day dream.
I sigh and shrug. “Just contemplating life, I guess.”
“Pffft.” She slaps the magazine she’s been reading down onto the small table in the corner. “That’s for the old and the dying, and you, my dear girl, are neither of those things.”
“Aren’t I, though?” I gesture to the collection of drips and lines attached to my body.
It’s not an unreasonable assessment, and it’s certainly not the first time I’ve thought about this. If they don’t find me a match soon, I could die.
It’s just that simple and that complicated all at once.
She just shakes her head, totally unfazed by the possibility of my death. “It’s not in your stars. You trust me on this; you’ll be just fine for a long time yet.”
I’ve never been sure where she gets this ‘in your stars’ business from, but she’s been saying it for as long as I can remember.
She’s actually rarely wrong – not that any of us like to admit it.
She’s the only spiritual person in our family, well, her and Charlie. It seems he’s been drinking whatever Aunt Rita has. He’s turned into a bit of a hippy these days.
“What else do my stars say?” I ask her as I turn onto my side so I’m facing her.
I don’t normally entertain her with this carry on, but in this moment, I want nothing more than for her to be right – I want to be okay.
“If you’re asking if I see a Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome, then you bet I do.”
My heart starts beating erratically and the monitor to my left beeps like crazy. She knows nothing about the vision I had, but yet she’s looking at me as though she’s very well informed.
Rita glances at the screen briefly and grins wickedly. “Well, if just the mention of the man gets you going like that, I can’t imagine what’ll happen when you finally get him in the sack.”
I manage to somehow choke on thin air at her statement, which does not help the rate of my heart in the slightest.
Melanie, one of the nurses appears in the doorway. “Is everything okay in here?”
She glances at the machine, and then at me – I’m coughing and spluttering as I try to wave her away to indicate that I’m okay.
“She’s fine, all is well, lovely, I just don’t think Violet here realised that people my age knew what sex was.”
Oh God, I can feel my face heating now as I reach for my water and take a sip.
You can always count on Rita to keep things interesting, that’s for sure.
Nurse Melanie laughs and pushes the button to silence the beeping on my monitor. “No more sex talk.” She points her finger at my Aunt. “Violet needs to rest, not go into cardiac arrest.”
“I make no promises,” Rita replies without a care in the world.
I know Melanie is doing her best to hold herself together, but I can still manage to see her shoulders shaking with laughter as she leaves the room.
“Where’s this mystery man then, huh?” I ask after my heart rate settles back into its normal rhythm.
Her eyes sparkle with a youth that doesn’t match the lines on her face. “I can’t tell you everything now, can I? That would ruin all the fun.”
She winks at me, picks up her magazine and starts flicking through it as though she never said anything at all.
Violet
Present day
I’ve developed a dry, hacking cough these past few days. That, combined with my general fatigue, dizziness, rapid breathing and bluish skin tone, solidifies the fact that I’m not going anywhere anytime soon – if ever.
No one’s said it out loud to me yet, but I know my heart is failing more severely now.
I’ve already been here for longer than any of us anticipated, and now it’s becoming obvious that I won’t be leaving until I get a heart.
If I get a heart, that is.
For now, I need something called a ventricular assist device, known commonly as a VAD, it’s a device that basically takes the blood from my body and oxygenates it before pumping it back in again.
Essentially, it’s doing the job my heart has decided is too hard – this machine should give my heart the rest it needs to hold on a bit longer.
I just need to keep holding on.
It’s the same story, different day for me right now. There are more tests, more maybes… more trial and error.
This is possibly the highest staked game we’re yet to play.
This choice could be the deciding factor as to whether I live or die.
The external, short-term device that Dr. White is talking to us about is the option I want to go with.
She’s explained, in great depth, that this is a temporary solution – all this device will do is buy me some time.
A month if I’m lucky – but probably even less.
I don’t know if that’s going to be enough time – no one does, but I do know that I don’t want to go through yet another open-heart surgery to have a long-term VAD put in, just to find that I could have got a new heart next week.
My mum and dad are not in agreement with my logic on the subject.
They want the long-term solution.
“It could buy you years, Violet,” Mum pleads with me. “You might not have to worry about a transplant for a long time – it just seems less risky.”
I understand what she’s saying, I really do, but I have a shot at a real second chance here.
I’m a perfect candidate for a transplant, I’m still young, I’m sort of fit, I don’t smoke, I’ve already been doing the cardiac rehabilitation program, I’ve got the support… and more than that, I’ve just got a feeling that this might finally be my time.
“Often a period of time spent on a short-term VAD can actually improve a patient’s suitability for transplant, Mrs. Miller. I know it’s a scary thing to consider, and the allocated period of time it offers may be hard to come to grips with, given that it’s so short, but I really do believe that this is the best course of action for Violet right now. We can do what we need to through the cardiac catheter, and a few small incisions in her abdomen, rather than having to put her through another high risk, lengthy surgical procedure. The less stress on her heart and body, the better at this point.”
I want to high-five Dr. White – she’s saying all the things my parents need to hear.
“What happens if her time on that machine runs out?” Mum asks. Her voice is shaking. I hate hearing her like this. It cuts me deep to see the pain and suffering my condition causes her.
“If the short-term VAD is no longer able to sustain Violet’s heart function, and a donor heart hasn’t become available, then we’ll have no choice but to continue with the long-term VAD.”
That sounds like a terrible outcome to me. It’s obviously better than dying, but it’s still far from ideal.
The backup option seems to bring so
me peace to my parents however, so if that’s what they wanted to hear, then I’m glad they did.
I know damn well there’s a lot more that Dr. White isn’t saying – my heart could fail again while I wait for a transplant, I might deteriorate to the point where I’m not strong enough for surgery… circumstances could change, and I suddenly might not be suitable for the long-term VAD anymore.
They’re all very real possibilities, but I ignore them – every single one.
“It’s your choice, buttercup.” Dad reaches for my hand.
I know it’s my choice – I’m an adult now and my mind has been made up for the better part of the last half hour. This question and answers session has been for their benefit, not mine.
“I’d like to go ahead with the short-term VAD,” I tell Dr. White.
She nods at me with a small smile – I know she thinks I’ve made the right decision.
“You understand that having this procedure means that you’ll be restricted to a bed, and you won’t be able to be discharged until either you receive a transplant, or you are fitted with the long-term VAD?”
I understand all of it.
I think that’s why Mum and Dad were so set on the second option – that procedure would have meant I got to go home.
“I understand.”
“Great.” She closes the file she’s holding in her hands. “I’ll let Dr. Ellis know you’ve made a decision and she’ll go ahead and make the arrangements.”
I can almost literally feel the tension radiating from my mother as I watch Dr. White leave the room.
Dad mumbles something about coffee and before I even look up, he’s gone… leaving me all alone with a sceptical set of eyes.
“Are you sure, Violet?”
“I’m sure.”
“But why don’t you take the long-term opt—”
“Mum, I’ve made my choice,” I interrupt her.
I’m too tired for this argument. I know it’s hard for her – having to come to terms with the fact that I make my own decisions now, but that’s the reality. I’m twenty-one years old and my health is no longer her burden to carry, it’s mine.
My Heart Needs (The Heart Duet Book 1) Page 11