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Chris looks me in the eye and flashes me a weak smile. “Your parents will talk to you about Caleb.”
“Why? Where is he?”
Claire turns around and leaves the room without another word and Chris looks stumped.
“Please tell me what’s going on here. I wake up with tubes coming out of every hole in my body and the nurse just said something to me about anti-rejection meds. Did I get a heart transplant? What happened? Please… I’m scared.”
Chris hangs his head for a moment and when he lifts it again, there are tears in his eyes. “I don’t want to be the one to break your heart. Please don’t make me do this.”
The heart-rate monitor starts beeping loudly as my pulse races. The nurse is at my side a second later, injecting something into my IV line. Within seconds, drowsiness overtakes me and I drift off with Caleb’s name on my lips.
THE FIFTH TIME I wake, my parents are there. My dad is standing like a soldier at my bedside, his hands behind his back, his chin dimpled with the effort of holding back his emotions. My mom stands right next to him, her gloved hand wrapped tightly around my fingers.
“Don’t lie to me,” I whisper through the tears.
“I won’t lie to you, sweetheart,” my dad says, his voice thick with emotion. “But I think Caleb would rather tell you everything himself.”
I open my mouth to curse him for lying to me by pretending that Caleb is alive, but before I can speak another word, he pulls a white envelope from behind his back. The sight of my name on the outside of the envelope in Caleb’s messy scrawl sends a bolt of pain through my chest.
“I wanted to wait to give you this later, but I don’t think Caleb would have wanted that.”
“Stop talking about him like… that.”
I want to tell my dad to stop talking about Caleb like he’s gone, but I can’t bring myself to say the words. I draw in a long breath as I take the envelope from my dad’s large hand.
“We haven’t read it. We just opened it to make it easier for you,” he assures me as he takes a step back.
“We’ll be right outside, honey.” My mom squeezes the words out through her tears.
I hold the envelope up in front of my face and stare at the letters A-B-B-Y and I imagine Caleb sitting at the table in the apartment he shared with Greg. I imagine his beautiful fingers curled around the pen as it slid across the paper. When did he write me this letter? What was he thinking?
I guess I’m about to find out.
I lay the envelope on my belly, then I struggle a bit to slip the folded piece of white paper out with just one hand. But a few seconds later, I have the paper out of the envelope and unfolded. I lay it facedown on my belly for a moment.
Caleb, wherever you are, please give me the strength to make it through this.
I sniff loudly and let out a long sigh. Then I lift the paper off my stomach and read.
Abby,
How do you thank someone for giving you a reason to live? I’ve thought about this a lot over the last few years since you came into my life. And for three years, I came up with nothing.
Then my dad died and there you were again. My friend. My girl. My sunshine, bringing light to my darkest days.
When the estate lawyer called me to his office to pick up the inheritance check in January after my eighteenth birthday, it got me thinking about what I wanted to leave behind after my death. Like my dad, I don’t have much to give, but I do have one thing I hope will still be useful when I go. Something you fixed up and made all shiny and new for me.
My heart.
Abby, the first time I spoke to you in the hospital, my heart danced. And I don’t think it ever stopped. You gave my heart quite a workout, sunshine. So I know that the moment they took my heart out of my chest and put it in yours, my heart danced its final dance as if nobody was watching.
You can be anything you want to be now. Chase your dreams, Abby.
Always yours,
Caleb
I throw the letter over the edge of the bed and try to breathe, but I’m in so much pain, breathing seems secondary. The nurse rushes in and injects something into my IV line again.
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out except for a soft squeak.
“What did you say, sweetie?”
The drowsiness is taking hold again, and my throat relaxes enough for me to get out four words. “You were my dream.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
I SPEND SEVENTEEN excruciating days in the hospital, unable to speak or eat. It’s only my desire to see the endless biopsies and X-rays end that makes me take up solid food again. I need it all to be over. I need to go home, curl up in my bed, and sleep for a very long time. My dreams are the only place where I’m safe. My dreams are the only place where none of this ever happened.
The ride home from the hospital is the longest three hours of my life. The ride should have taken two and a half hours, but my dad insists on driving below the speed limit. Afraid my new heart might fall out or something. My mom is sitting in the backseat with me, wringing her hands with frustration because I won’t allow her to touch me.
I don’t want my mother to hold me while I sob on her shoulder and ask, “Why me?” I want Caleb to hold me and tell me I’m going to get through this. That losing him isn’t the end of every good thing in my life.
I just want to hear his voice one more time. Is that too much to ask? I think it would be easier if I could just hear him call me “sunshine” once more.
We enter our house in Raleigh and the first thing I’m struck by is the smell. The beach house always had a slightly salty, sunbaked aroma mixed with the scent of fresh laundry. With seven people in the house, there was always a load going. Our house in Raleigh smells like my mom’s favorite lemon-scented disinfectant. She must have disinfected every surface with that stuff when she and my dad came home a few days ago to prepare the house for my arrival.
I want to take a shower, but I’m not allowed to for another twelve days. And my mom is supposed to help me when I take a bath, so that rules out that option. I head for the kitchen to get myself a glass of water and my mom follows close behind me.
“Are you hungry, honey? I got a bunch of healthy snacks that are on the list Dr. Rosenthal gave me. We have tons of fruits and veggies, low-fat cheese sticks, gluten-free rice crackers.”
“I’m not hungry. I just want a glass of water.” I reach for the cupboard above the kitchen counter, but a sharp pain in my breastbone stops me.
“I’ll get you some water. You just go lie down.”
She grabs my arms and gently turns me away from the counter. I take a couple of steps forward, then I stop in the middle of the kitchen and look around. The beige stone tiles and cherry cabinets look the same as they did when I was last here, but something about this room is different.
“What did you change in here?”
My mom glances toward the kitchen window above the sink. “We removed all the blinds and curtains in the house.”
“In my room, too?”
“No.” She swiftly grabs a glass from the cupboard and fills it with water, then she places her hand on the small of my back to lead me to my bedroom. “Chris and Claire helped us install some remote-controlled window coverings in your room. The remote is in the top drawer of your nightstand. I know you probably don’t feel like it, but please consider leaving the blinds open as often as possible. It’s better for you. You know the saying. Sunlight is the best disinfectant. Turns out that’s also true in the literal sense.”
I stand on the threshold of my bedroom and marvel at how clean and organized everything is. The dozens of pictures of me, Caleb, and Amy that were pinned haphazardly on the walls are now arranged in a beautiful collage in a single picture frame that hangs above my headboard. The messy collection of office supplies and makeup on my desk is gone and a handy purple makeup case sits next to my laptop. Both my guitars hang from hooks on the wall. The room smells like lemon instead of the usual combined s
