My Heart Needs (The Heart Duet Book 1)

by Nicole S. Goodin

  “I just don’t understand.”

  Of course she doesn’t. She couldn’t possibly.

  I know she’s watched me endure this condition every step of the way – but she hasn’t had to live it first-hand.

  It’s my life, not hers.

  She’s always done everything she can to keep me alive and to make the best of my situation, and I’m grateful for that, I really am, but this is about more than just surviving now. This is about living – it’s about having a real life.

  I don’t want to carry around a battery pack strapped to my body for the next however many years.

  I don’t want to have to endure an open-heart surgery now and then again one day when the VAD stops helping.

  I just don’t want to do it.

  I don’t pull this card often, but I feel like it’s justified now.

  “I think I’ve been through enough,” I croak – even my voice seems to have given up on me now. “Don’t you?”

  I want to take the easier option for once. I want to be hopeful.

  A huge part of me feels like being fitted with a long-term solution means I’m closing myself off for the real long-term solution here – a heart.

  I need to give my body and the universe a shot to make things right for me.

  I have to take a chance on someone else’s heart.

  Her stare softens and I see her resolve wavering.

  “This is what my heart needs… I can feel it.”

  She sighs.

  “You’ve been on my side my whole life, Mum; I just need you to stick by me for this too, okay?”

  She nods her head and I watch as tears well in her eyes.

  “Okay.”

  “You promise?”

  She leans over and kisses the top of my head.

  “I’ve gotten you out of here your whole life, I’m not about to stop now.”

  Leanne

  1993 (Six months old)

  We’re finally going home.

  It’s been so long, I was beginning to wonder if this moment was ever actually going to arrive.

  Most people spend one or two nights, possibly a couple more if they need the extra support after they give birth, but we’ve been here a little over six months in total now and this is the very first time Violet will leave these hospital walls.

  She’s never even been inside the beautiful nursery I decorated for her – the space containing everything I selected carefully by hand.

  Something like co-ordinating colour schemes seems so unbelievably trivial now. It’s almost laughable that I visited four different baby stores just to find a blanket in the perfect shade of mint.

  If only I knew nine months ago what I know now.

  I wouldn’t have spent my time making sure that I had the all-natural, expensive-as-hell baby lotion; I wouldn’t have insisted that Shaun re-paint the ceiling in the nursery and I definitely wouldn’t have bothered stressing about the fact that all of the baby clothes we owned weren’t pre-washed, dried and folded neatly in the drawers.

  If I knew then what I know now, I would have spent the time I wasted doing all of that, playing with August, or going for walks outdoors… I would have enjoyed all the simple things we all take for granted until something like this happens.

  It’s not so easy to take a stroll down the road anymore or shoot into town. Heck, all that was made significantly more complicated by just having a baby, let alone by having another baby – especially one that comes with heart complications and a feeding tube, but this is my new normal.

  This is our new normal.

  It’s been about three months since Violet’s last open-heart surgery – the bi-directional Glenn, and she’s only just well enough to leave. That procedure has prepared her body for the final stage operation she’ll have when she’s three years old.

  We’re out of here for now – and I know all too well that our time to return will come all too soon. But for today, we’re finally free.

  The worry of the next surgery is for another day.

  We walk down the long hallway, Shaun carrying Violet, all tucked up safe and asleep in her car seat.

  Thinking back on the past ninety days is like trying to read writing on the side of a speeding train.

  It’s a blur.

  I see some parts so clearly, yet can’t recall others at all.

  I notice things I didn’t see at the time – no one ever told me, but I can see now that Violet was really unwell for a while there… that maybe she wasn’t doing too well at all.

  I wonder if maybe there were times where perhaps death was knocking, but we just weren’t coming to the door to let it in.

  Maybe it is like they say – maybe ignorance is bliss after all.

  Regardless of what happened then, I do my best to focus instead on what’s happening now. I feel like singing, dancing and making a real scene as we make our way out of here. I’m tempted to yell ‘you were wrong’ at the top of my lungs.

  Don’t get me wrong, we’ve received some fantastic support these past months, but I’ll never forget those doctors that told us we were wasting our time – that our little girl wouldn’t make it.

  It may not have been an easy journey getting to this point, but we are here, and that’s what’s most important. I know we’re not through it all yet, but I also know we undoubtedly made the right decision in trying.

  Violet has been given six months we were told she wouldn’t get, and even though I’m dying to get out of here and move onto the next stage of our lives, I couldn’t be more grateful that those months have existed.

  Life lately hasn’t consisted of much more than the four walls of the small room we’ve been confined to, but I still wouldn’t give it up for anything.

  We walk out of the front doors, and into the fresh morning light.

  Shaun straps Violet’s car seat into the back of the car and I slide in next to her.

  “We made it, baby,” I whisper to her as Shaun starts the engine. “I promised you I’d get you out of here.”

  “Shaun!” I hiss into the darkness of our bedroom.

  “Mmmmmm,” he groans in his half-asleep state.

  “She’s done it again.”

  “You’re kidding,” he moans.

  I wish I was.

  This is the third time this week alone.

  Violet is starting to make a habit of pulling out her feeding tube, and each time she does it we have to make a trip into the hospital to have it put back in.

  She only seems to do it in the dead of night – times when I can’t call Linda and have her put it back in, of course.

  I know it’s necessary to have the damn thing, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was sick to death of it.

  There’s only so many times you can drive a baby into the hospital in a half-asleep state before something cracks.

  I’m at the point now where I’m going to insist that I be taught how to do it myself – if the on-duty doctor won’t do it then I’ll have Linda show me how… it can’t be that bloody hard.

  “I’ll take her in, you stay here with Auggie.”

  “If you’re sure?” He yawns.

  “Go back to sleep,” I whisper as I pull the door shut.

  I know he won’t need to be told twice.

  We’re both as exhausted as each other right now.

  Ever since we brought Violet home, August seems to have forgotten what sleeping right through the night is all about.

  She’s up every few hours, crying or wandering around the halls.

  The only thing tougher than getting up to a baby half the night is getting up to a nearly three-year-old for the other half of it.

  I’ve had only one full night’s sleep since we got home. I set Violet’s tube to automatically feed her every three hours and Rita took August for the night to try and give us a break.

  While the hours of uninterrupted sleep were total bliss, the overwhelming feeling of panic and terror when I woke to silence is something I could do without
– I haven’t been brave enough to try it again.

  It’s a scary thing being a parent.

  It’s a truly terrifying job to be a parent of a child with needs that differ from others – needs that make everything so much more high-risk than it should be.

  Every day feels a little bit like a gamble. Like I’m betting all the money I have on the favourite in the field, but instead of crossing my fingers for a big win, I’m just hoping like hell that I’ll get my money back – that I’ll get the chance to make another bet tomorrow.

  It’s a challenging lifestyle to adjust to and one I’m not sure I’ll ever consider normal – but I have to try.

  This is my life now – our lives, and that’s all there is to it.

  We just have to get on with it – take it day by day and hope that our bets keep paying off.

  Violet

  Present day

  “Alright, what’ll it be first… ‘Mean Girls’, ‘Legally Blonde’ or ‘Bring It On’?”

  I shake my head in amusement at the offered selection. “Really?” I raise my brows at Lucy. “Those are the choices I get?”

  She gasps in mock outrage. “These are classics.”

  I stifle a giggle. Lucy is such a sucker for these kinds of movies.

  “Fine, ‘Mean Girls’… unless you’re going to quote the whole thing word for word, in which case, the other one with the cheerleaders.”

  She claps her hands together excitedly and rushes over to the TV. She’s just as happy about this as I am.

  Movie nights are our thing, and while it might be an awfully tame pastime for a couple of girls in their twenties, there’s no other way I’d rather spend my time – we’ve been doing this for as long as I can remember.

  I’ve missed hanging out with Lucy lately and while it’s not the same in here, I just don’t know if I’m going to get another chance to do this with her outside of this room – there’s no guarantee I’m going to get to go home.

  So I begged my nurses to let this slide. Hospital policy says that no visitors are allowed in the ward after eight at night, but thankfully, they agreed to turn a blind eye to our girly movie marathon.

  I guess a crappy heart does have some perks after all.

  I think they all feel sorry for me, and while I normally hate sympathy, in this case, I’ll take it. One of the nurses even brought us in some popcorn earlier so I don’t think anyone’s got too much of a problem bending the rules just this once.

  I’m just glad that they agreed without Lucy having to get involved. She might look sweet, pretty and innocent, but I know full well she’s not someone you’d want to mess with. Her mum jokes that she’s always been part wild cat – when the need arises, she’s not afraid to roar.

  She’s always been like that… Lucy has had my back for forever.

  Lucy

  2006 (Thirteen years old)

  “Seriously, Mum, she’s just a bitch.”

  “Language!” Mum scowls at me.

  I roll my eyes. Sometimes my mum really needs to chill – it’s not like I said the ‘f’ word or anything.

  “But she is.”

  “That might be the case, but there are things that we think, and things that we say out loud, and you, my dear girl, really need to learn the difference between the two.”

  Mum’s always said I have no filter.

  She’s correct too. I can’t understand why you’d think something but not be willing to say it out loud. I’ve always believed that if you shouldn’t say it out loud, then you probably shouldn’t think it either.

  “And besides,” Mum carries on, “what Julia is or isn’t doesn’t change the fact that you are the one being called into the principal’s office.”

  “I only had to go there because I told her she was being a bi—”

  “Lucy Reynolds, don’t you dare,” she cuts me off. “I don’t know what has gotten into you.”

  I know exactly what’s gotten into me. Julia and her little gang of airheads is what has got me all riled up.

  I don’t know who they think they are, and I don’t care how many trips I have to take to the principal’s office, there’s no way I’m going to take this crap lying down.

  “Mr. Filby was very concerned about your behaviour, you know.”

  “Mr. Filby.” I sneer the name, even though it’s not him I’m really angry with. “He doesn’t even know what happened.”

  “Well then you tell me what happened, because this isn’t like you.”

  She’s disappointed in me; I can see it in her eyes and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt, but I know she’s going to be just as angry as I am when she finds out what those girls said.

  “They called her Frankenstein,” I growl.

  I hear her gasp. “What?”

  “Julia and her friends, I heard them calling Violet ‘Frankenstein’… they were making fun of her scars.”

  “They said that?” she whispers. Her face has paled in shock.

  I nod, and I see her expression shift from stunned to furious in the blink of an eye.

  “Oh. No. Way. This is not happening. Na uh, no damn way… not on my watch.”

  She’s got the phone in her hand already and I haven’t got a clue who she’s planning on calling, but I don’t care.

  Mum is on the warpath now.

  If I look close enough I can probably see the smoke coming out her ears and the steam pouring from her nose.

  She’s royally pissed off.

  “Bet I can call her a bitch now, huh, Mum?”

  She points to me with a ‘don’t mess with me’ finger at the same moment that whoever she’s calling answers the phone.

  “Yes, hi, Mr. Filby, this is Linda Reynolds…”

  Her voice fades out as she leaves the room and shuts the door behind her.

  Mr. Filby might have been a complete ass to me today by not giving me the opportunity to explain myself, but I actually feel a little bit sorry for him right now.

  My mother is a firm believer in justice and fair play and she won’t stop until she gets it.

  It’s one of the qualities that makes her such a great nurse – her sense of equality, and right and wrong means that she’ll fight for as long as it takes for her patients to get what they need.

  She’ll go to great lengths for someone she doesn’t even know, and I swear she’ll literally go to the ends of the earth for the people she loves.

  That unequivocally includes Violet.

  She’s my sister in all the ways that count, and she’s been treated as a member of our family since the day she first turned up.

  I know that Mum will fight as hard for Violet as she would if it were me that had been treated like this.

  I’ll fight hard too. No one speaks like that about my best friend and gets away with it.

  Julia was lucky I didn’t do more than call her names.

  The look on Violet’s face when they giggled and laughed and made fun of her is a look I’ll never, ever forget.

  The hurt I saw in her eyes will stay with me for the rest of my life.

  Girls like Julia, they’re the reason Violet feels like she needs to hide herself and who she is.

  Girls like that, the type who can’t see past a few marks on a person’s skin, they’re exactly the reason that Violet won’t wear a bikini or a top that shows even a little bit of the scar on her chest.

  They’re the kind of girls that look for trouble where there is none. But they found trouble this time, that’s for sure.

  They might not have known that Letty and I were still in the changing room, but that’s no excuse.

  In fact, it might be worse. They didn’t even have the nerve to say those things to her face – instead they talked about her behind her back.

  Then there’s the fact that they were totally wrong. Violet is no freak – she’s more beautiful than all those girls put together.

  If I had to take a guess, I’d say that Julia was jealous of Violet. Julia is planning to go and s
tudy art next year, and don’t get me wrong, she is a good painter. She rates herself as one of the best in our school, but no one is as good as Violet – not even close. To be honest, I think she’s even better than Mrs. Barkley, our art teacher.

  Jealously can be an evil creature and when that group of girls had sneered those hurtful names and then told me to get lost, the jealously had been plain to see.

  It breaks my heart. I know that Violet would befriend literally anyone that was genuinely kind to her – she’s just that type of person. She’s not bothered by things like age, gender, race or ability.

  She’d do anything for her friends and if Julia wanted to be one of them, she would be – no questions asked.

  But instead she’s chosen to be a bully.

  It’s sad really – for Julia and her little gang of followers more so than anybody else. They’re missing out on knowing the best person I’ve ever met, and that is their loss.

  Those girls are part of the reason Violet considers me to be her only ‘real’ friend and they’re also to blame for Violet thinking that people are out to embarrass her.

  Mum strides back into the room, phone still in her hand and a pissed-off expression still firmly on her face. “We’ll discuss this on Monday, Trevor, I’ll see you at nine A.M.”

  Oh heck, she’s moved onto first name basis now, which means she’s really angry.

  I bet Mr. Filby will be regretting the moment he decided to rat me out to my mum.

  She hangs up the phone and I watch her take three deep breaths.

  “Right, what are you waiting for, let’s go,” she announces finally.

  “Are we going to throw eggs at Julia’s house?” I answer hopefully as I jump out of my seat.

  “Nope.” She reaches into the cupboard and pulls out a bottle of red wine. “We’re going over to the Miller’s.”

  “Can I ask you again about the eggs after you’ve had a couple glasses of that?” I reply optimistically.

  “You could try.”

  I grin. “Should I bring the toilet paper? We could TP her house?”

  Mum laughs then, and some of the tension in her shoulders disappears.