Mia's Heart (The Paradise Diaries)

by Courtney Cole

  My mother follows him out and I feel my temper bubbling just beneath the surface. But I tamp it down. I’m sure they’re just concerned. Right?

  Whatever.

  I swing my legs over the side of the bed and sit for a second. Obviously, I’ve been out of bed here in the room to shower and use the bathroom and whatnot. But the idea of going outside, out into the hospital and into the world and the sunshine, has made me terrified.

  I don’t want to admit that to anyone because I feel silly.

  But it’s the truth.

  I don’t know if it’s the accident, or if I’ve always been that way.

  Who’s to say?

  Certainly not me.

  I can’t remember anything.

  I pull on some clothing. A khaki skirt and a cream-colored blouse. A pair of tan ballet flats. These clothes feel foreign. I can’t believe I would choose clothing so bland. And so…beige. But apparently, I did.

  Apparently, I was a bland person.

  And I use the word apparently a lot.

  I pull a brush through my hair and stare in the mirror.

  Dark brown hair, green eyes. I’m sort of small. Not small in a weird, misshapen way, but small, nonetheless. I guess I’m pretty, although I look a bit pale from being indoors. I probably should get some sun. Some vitamin D therapy might improve my attitude, too.

  For some reason, I feel so agitated. My mother tells me that it’s very unusual for me, that I’m usually a very cheerful person, but that a certain level of agitation is normal given the circumstances.

  I don’t know about that.

  But then, I don’t know about anything right now.

  And I’m back to that again. Sigh.

  I poke my head out into the hall and find my mother and Gavin talking to each other against the wall.

  I fight back the feeling of annoyance that rises in me, the bad taste that is in my mouth.

  What the eff?

  If he’s my friend, why is he in cahoots with my mother?

  And where the heck did I get a word like cahoots?

  Can’t my friend talk to my mother? I’m clearly a lunatic. I wonder if I was before this accident, too, or if it’s a new thing.

  I’m shaking my head when they notice me.

  Gavin smiles.

  “Are you ready?”

  His smile is a thousand-watt light-bulb and I relax. I’m being hypersensitive, I’m sure. That’s probably normal, given the circumstances.

  Gavin holds his arm out and they both smile at me.

  And once again, I am uneasy, but don’t know why.

  “I’m ready,” I confirm, as I slip my arms around his forearm. My mother falls back into my room as Gavin and I make our way down the hall and out of the hospital.

  The sun hits me squarely in the face and I blink my eyes.

  “You okay?” Gavin asks quietly. He has apparently noticed that my feet are now frozen to the ground and I am refusing to move from this spot.

  “Yeah,” I mumble. “I just feel intimidated by coming out here. I don’t know why. It makes me feel sort of panicky.”

  I’m such a baby.

  I look around, at the shrubbery in the hospital courtyard, at the benches filled with visitors and patients, at the flowers, the grass, at the wide open blue sky above us. And all I can do is to try and still my racing heart. I don’t know why I’m so anxious about this place. It’s irrational.

  “You know,” Gavin says quietly as he leads me around the path. “We were here last year. Our friend Dante had a car accident. And when we came here, we weren’t sure exactly what we were going to find. We knew he was alive and they told us that he was okay, but we didn’t really believe it until we saw it for ourselves. Maybe that’s it. Maybe you have some suppressed memories deep down about that time. It was pretty emotional. It was one of the only times I’ve seen you cry.”

  I look at him. The sun is shining onto his face, illuminating his already bright smile. He’s a gorgeous guy, that much is true. Strong, good-looking and self-assured. That’s a good recipe for destruction.

  “I don’t cry?” I ask hesitantly. That doesn’t seem right. Because right now, I feel like a blubbering mess on the inside. Gavin shakes his head.

  “Not usually. You’re pretty bad-ass.”

  I have to smile at that. “Bad ass?”

  He nods. “Yup. Totally bad-ass.”

  “Tell me why you say that,” I instruct him.

  We continue walking around the pretty landscaped sidewalk as Gavin tells me escapades of my youth, beginning from the time we were in primary school. He speaks smoothly and calmly as we walk around patients who are walking slower than we are.

  “And then there was the time that you got the assistant principal at school fired- when we were only in fourth grade. You thought he discriminated against you because he was a pacifist and your father was the minister of defense.”

  “Did he discriminate against me?” I ask, with my eyebrow raised.

  Gavin nods. “It sure seemed like it.”

  “So, I’m ballsy.”

  Gavin laughs. “Yes, you’re ballsy.”

  “Why are you and I such good friends? Have we always been? Have we ever dated?”

  Gavin stares at me.

  “You truly don’t remember anything, do you?” he asks softly. There is sympathy in his eyes and I hate that. I’m not asking for sympathy. I’m just trying to learn more about myself.

  “Don’t feel sorry for me, Gav,”I tell him. “I don’t need sympathy.”

  He stares at me again.

  “You just called me Gav,” he points out quietly. “I haven’t told you that you used to do that.”

  I am instantly still. Holy crap. He’s right.

  “I don’t know where that came from,” I admit. “It just came out. It felt natural.”

  “It’s your memory,” Gavin decides confidently. “Subconsciously, in there somewhere, you know me.” He grins. “Because seriously, dude, how could you truly forget me?”

  He is cocky and arrogant and pleasingly so. I smile back.

  “I don’t know. It’s like I got hit on the head or something. Oh, wait. I did.”

  He laughs and I laugh and it suddenly seems normal to hang out with him. Relaxed. Friendly. Normal. I’m digging it. So I tell him that.

  He looks surprised.

  “Did you doubt that you would?” He is cocky again. “Your favorite time of the day is always Gavin Time.”

  “Gavin Time?” I repeat doubtfully. “Are you always this sure of yourself?” I ask, one eyebrow cocked. He laughs. He tightens his grip on my elbow and I enjoy the feeling of his warm fingers on my skin.

  “Always,” he says, leaning in toward me like he’s confiding something. “It’s one of the things you love about me.”

  “So I love things about you, then?” I ask, laughing.

  Gavin smiles. “Of course you do. Everyone does.”

  He winks and laughs and I laugh again.

  “Have we ever had sex?” I ask. Gavin’s head snaps back and he stares at me again, his eyes sparkling and appraising.

  “Not yet,” he says. “Would you like to?”

  He nudges me and laughs, but now I’m on a mission to find out things about myself that my mother probably wouldn’t know, so I ignore his charming grin.

  “Am I a virgin?” I ask hesitantly. “Do you know?”

  He stares at me yet again, but this time he actually seems uncomfortable. If it was possible to squirm while standing in an upright position, he’d totally be doing it. It makes me uneasy.

  “What?” I ask. “Am I a slut?”

  He rolls his eyes. “No. You’re not a slut. Far from it. But you’re not a virgin, either.”

  “But we haven’t had sex?” I ask again. He winks.

  “Not yet.”

  “Do I have a boyfriend?” I ask uncertainly. Because if I do, I certainly don’t remember it.

  Gavin looks unsettled and ignores my question.
/>
  “You know,” he muses. “I could have totally played this whole situation to my advantage. Let’s start over again. Ask me again if you are a virgin.”

  I smile. “Am I a virgin?”

  He shakes his head solemnly. “No. You’re not. You and I have wild, passionate jungle sex about four times a day. You love it. And we should probably take it back up again. I think it would help your recovery process to get back into your normal routine.”

  I roll my eyes and giggle, ignoring the disapproving look of an elderly lady with a walker.

  “Only four times a day?” I ask innocently. “Are we slackers, then?”

  “Oh, don’t tempt me,” Gavin answers. “We can increase the rate. I’m up for anything. Anytime, anywhere. That’s practically my motto. Always ready. I should get that tattooed somewhere. Maybe on my ass.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “Seriously. Do I have a boyfriend? Besides you, I mean,” I amend quickly. He smiles.

  “No. You don’t. Not anymore.”

  He looks rattled now, like he wishes he wouldn’t have added that last part.

  “What?” I ask. “Not anymore? Who was I with? We broke up?”

  Gavin is definitely uncomfortable now. He looks away and puts a lot of effort into steering me around a slower walker. I stop in the middle of the path and put my hands on my hips.

  “Gavin, seriously. Just tell me. My mom doesn’t seem to want to talk about any of this stuff.” And I had tried several times over the course of the past week. She just changed the subject and told me that I was an honor student and was a joy as a daughter, etc, etc. She laid it on so thick that I’m actually a little suspicious of all of it.

  Gavin sighs.

  “You did have a boyfriend, of sorts. You told me that you weren’t in love with him, that you were in lust with him. He took your virginity and used you to get information. And then he tried to kill our best friends and the Prime Minister of Caberra.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Holy shit,” I breathe, staring at Gavin. “You aren’t joking.”

  Gavin shakes his head, his normally cheerful demeanor suddenly very serious.

  “I wish I were,” he answers. “But I’m not. Vincent Dranias was your boyfriend. You trusted him. And he screwed you over. He’s in jail now.”

  “Jail?” I whisper. My eyes are watery and I’m annoyed by that. Apparently, I’m not supposed to cry. I’m a bad ass. I wipe at my eyes impatiently.

  “Jail,” Gavin confirms. “He’s eighteen, so he is being tried as an adult. The whole thing isn’t over…these court cases usually go on forever. But he’s in jail for the duration and I can guess that he will be there forever. You can’t try to assassinate the prime minister and not pay the consequences.”

  “And I brought that guy into our lives? So it was my fault?”

  I am horrified at this notion, even though I don’t remember Dante or his father or our lives right now. Gavin shakes his head.

  “No. You didn’t bring him into our lives. Another one of our friends, Nate Gerraris, did. His father used to be Dante’s father’s Deputy Prime Minister. It was all a plot by Nate to try and get his father promoted to Dimitri’s job. You were collateral damage. They used you to get close to Dante.” He stares at me. “Are you okay?”

  I’m not sure.

  “Does Dante hate me?” I whisper. I don’t remember Dante, but I certainly don’t want one of my good friends to hate me. And my freaking emotions are going to be the death of me today. Only a lunatic would be paranoid that a friend that she can’t even remember hates her. I’m not in love with myself right now. That much is true.

  Gavin grabs my arm and guides me to a bench nearby.

  “Of course he doesn’t hate you,” he says firmly as we sit. The wood is hard beneath my thighs, but I welcome it. It’s a nice distraction from the confused mess that my brain has become.

  “I know you don’t remember him right now. Or me, either,” Gavin continues. “But I know that you will. One of these days. And until then, just take my word for it when I say that we are your real friends. We have been friends since we were toddlers. No one understands us like we understand each other. Dante would never be mad at you for getting taken advantage of. He was more pissed than anyone that you were used.”

  Gavin is fierce now and it seems out of his character. I tug on his arm to get his attention.

  “Calm down,” I tell him. “It’s okay. I believe you.”

  His face relaxes and he smiles down at me.

  “Sorry,” he says. “I get worked up sometimes.”

  “I can see that,” I answer. “But that’s good. It means you’re passionate.”

  “Oh, baby, you have no idea,” he replies, cocky once again. I pick up his hand and study it, noting his smooth fingers. He doesn’t do manual labor, that much is apparent.

  “You don’t stay serious for long, do you?” I ask, glancing back up at his face.

  His eyes are serious now, even though he grins. “What is the point in that?” he answers. “There is enough serious shit in the world. I don’t need to be a party to it. We see it around us all of the time. There is no need to take ourselves seriously, too.”

  And in this moment, I see something in Gavin that I wonder if I ever saw before, pre-head-injury.

  He’s not as cocky or as happy-go-lucky on the inside as he pretends to be. He wants to be, but he isn’t. So he chooses to act like it instead.

  Interesting.

  “Do we have hard lives?” I ask, instead of pointing out my new revelation. Gavin laughs.

  “Seriously? Our fathers are both in the parliamentary cabinet of the prime minister. We want for nothing.”

  “That’s not what I asked,” I point out. “Our lives… are they hard?”

  Gavin stares at me for just a moment before he shrugs, then looks away.

  “It isn’t always easy. But we make it work. We’ve been brought up this way and it is what we know.”

  His answer is very telling, as is the very diplomatic way he delivers it.

  We’re the children of politicians. It’s can’t be fun but Gavin is so stoic about it, so matter of fact. It’s impressive. So I tell him that.

  He shakes his head and helps me to my feet.

  “It’s not impressive,” he tells me. “It’s just the way it is, Mi. You’re the same way. Well, you used to be. Although, you’re more of a rebel than I am.”

  “So, I’m a bad ass rebel now?” I tease. He nods.

  “You always have been. Your latest thing was hilarious.”

  We step back into the hospital and immediately I breathe in the sterile air, which makes me want to gag.

  “My latest thing?” I repeat as Gavin punches at the elevator button.

  He nods. “Yep. You were into wearing black all the time and dying your hair crazy colors. You even had your nose pierced—right before your accident. It was driving your mom insane.”

  I subconsciously pull at a tendril of my dark hair. “My hair isn’t dyed now and I don’t have a nose ring.”

  “I know,” Gavin answers as he puts a hand on the door to make sure it stays open while everyone steps on. “When I came to visit you for the first time after the accident, your hair color had been changed and the stud in your nose had been taken out. You weren’t even awake yet.”

  I stare at him. So that meant that my parents had dyed my hair while I was still in a coma? What the eff? Changing my hair color was a priority for them while the state of my health was still in the air?

  Gavin sees my expression and shrugs.

  “Political family,” he reminds me.

  I think it’s possible that I’m going to hate my new life.

  And my old life.

  As we get off on my floor, Gavin turns to me.

  “Mia, everything is what we make it. You hated all of the pressure placed on you by your father’s job. You railed against it all of the time- but that only put more stress on you than necessary. Th
e hole in your nose has grown closed because it was such a new piercing. It’s like it never happened. So, why not use that to your advantage? If you just go with the flow like I do, everything is so much easier. You don’t need stress right now. You need to relax so that your brain can recover from your injury. Seriously.”

  I stare at him. “Are you telling me to fall into the whole rank and file thing and do what everyone tells me?”

  He grimaces.

  “It sounds bad when you put it that way.” He pulls me to the side, out of the way of the scurrying nurses and orderlies. “All I’m saying is… relax and go with the flow. I want you to get better and your doctor says that you need to relax to do it. My phone number is in your phone. Call me whenever you need to.”

  My phone. I had forgotten that I had one. And my mother certainly hadn’t given it to me over the course of the last week. I wonder if it was destroyed in the earthquake?

  But instead of saying anything, I just nod.

  “Okay. Thank you, Gavin. I feel more normal today than I have since I woke up and I know that it is because of you. Thank you.”

  Gavin smiles beatifically and my knees momentarily weaken. He truly is gorgeous. He leans forward and kisses my cheek.

  “Anything for you, Mi,” he says. “Seriously.”

  And then he’s gone. I’m standing in the middle of the hall by myself, watching his cocky back retreat to the elevators. Yes, even his back is cocky. And strong. I gulp.

  He turns before he gets on the elevator and grins one last time. I gulp again before I smile back.

  After the elevator doors swallow him up, I truly do feel alone. He knew me. The real me. Not the me that my mother is trying to make me believe that I am. Suddenly, all I want is for him to come back, to sit by my bed and hold my hand and make everything okay.

  But that’s impossible, because everything isn’t okay.

  So with a sigh, I return to my room and find my mother doing a crossword puzzle in her chair. When I enter, she smiles.

  “How was your walk, sweetheart?” she asks. “Are you tired now? Would you like to lie down?”

  I shake my head. “No, I feel good. The fresh air was nice and it was good to talk with Gavin. Mom, do you have my phone?”