She shudders with a haunted look in her eyes. A tear crests over her eyelid and falls, running down her cheek. “Then the doctor came and told us they received a call. They had found a donor, a perfect match…Ava, you got your heart transplant. You have a new heart.” As if she can’t contain her emotions, she throws her arms around my neck. I tear up, and I’m not completely sure if it’s the new heart or just her newly overpowering peach smell invading my senses.
But the scent of her perfume is the last thing on my mind. I feellike I’ve been tossed overboard in treacherous waters without a life jacket, and giant tidal waves are smashing into me. For the past month and a half, I’ve only concentrated on how little time I had left, and it made everything a lot simpler if I’m honest. But now, theoretically, I have all my life in front of me and I should be happy, yet I am terrified. The endless possibilities of what the future holds make me feel like I’m in a boat adrift at sea.
The shock dissolves after a few moments, and then the dam breaks. Tears stream down my face like pouring rain while deep sobs rake my body. Chloe doesn’t pull back until I manage to calm myself.
I clear my throat and wipe at my tear-streaked face, finally able to take in my room. It resembles a fancy five-star hotel room with a hospital bed. All the machines look futuristic, and everything is brand-spanking new. The marble floor is so shiny you can see your reflection in it. “Um, Chlo, where am I? I don’t think my insurance can cover this room.”
“They transported you to a private hospital specifically for the transplant surgery. They couldn’t bring the heart to you and refused to let Doctor Anderson do the surgery. They wouldn’t even let him assist. He was beyond pissed, but your Mom signed all the consent forms, and you now have a new doctor. It was weird, but everything happened in a blur, and your heart was deteriorating by the minute. She had to act fast. Anyway…they said all costs were taken care of by an anonymous donation.”
“For real?”Was I just this lucky?“Well, I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Where’s mom?”
“She went home to take a shower and change. The doctor said it would be hours until you woke up.”
“How is she?”
“Honestly…she was barely hanging by a thread. But as soon as you got rushed into surgery, she was already making plans to move you back in with her and to speak with the school again soeverything could go back to normal.”
I shake my head. “Too bad that’s not what I want.”
I now know how it feels to have your days numbered. I learned the importance of living my life to the fullest, for myself, not for other people. Did I make mistakes? Sure. I spiraled out of control with the men, desperate to feel and experience as much as I could in the limited time I had left. Did I regret anything? Honestly, not really. Well, okay, maybe having sex with William the Turd. And I shouldn’t have snorted cocaine with my heart condition. But I let myself make mistakes. I let myself live. And that is what matters most.
7
Ava
TWO MONTHS LATER
The blaring sound of my alarm breaks through my dream, and I groan, not ready to wake up yet. Fumbling for my phone, searching for it in the tangled sheets, I finally manage to find it and press the snooze button.
Just five more minutes.
I was dreaming about him again, the majestic, giant wolf with honey-colored eyes and a beautiful, thick coat of ash-brown fur. We were howling at the full moon together, and the sense of rightness, of complete belonging, enveloped me like a warm blanket.
Is it weird that I’m sexually attracted to a wolf? Yup, I’m definitely going crazy.
Sighing, I push up into a sitting position as the alarm screams at me again. I stab at the screen, mumbling profanities at it, and rub at my eyes to clear the sleep cobwebs from my mind. Standing up, I accidentally knock into one of the boxes I still haven’t had the chance to unpack. It flies across the room. Jesus, I’m so much stronger since the surgery, and I haven’t gotten used to it yet. I can’t even keep track of how many things I’ve managed to clumsily break, only by holding them or by pressing my finger on a button. On the bright side, I was able to carry all my boxes to my new apartment without any help in record time.
My body is also toned. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have abs or anything like that. I am still my curvy self, but you can start to see some muscle definition here and there, and the weird part is that I didn’t do anything for it. I still eat chocolate cake like my life depends on it; you can’t pry it from my cold, dead hands even if you want to.
Even though it’s small, the studio apartment I moved into is cute, and the space is used efficiently. A glass paneled screen separates the bed from the rest of the space, and the dark brown L-shaped couch is on the other side, with a small walnut coffee table between the couch and the TV console resting against the wall. The kitchen is adjacent to the living room space with white cabinets that are a bitch to clean and a breakfast bar that sits two instead of a dining table.
Making my way to the bathroom, I enter the small room and take care of my business. Then I turn on the shower, take off the sleep shorts and the tank top I’m wearing, and step into the spray of hot water.
To my mother’s horror, I moved across the country to the city of Ashville a week ago. One day, I was rotting in bed, still drowning in the endless possibilities of what my life could looklike, when this wildlife documentary about Ashville’s national park started on TV. With my eyes plastered to the screen and a weird jolt from my heart, I felt this strong compulsion to move here. I took it as a sign to make a new beginning and escape my mother’s immediate reach. She drove me nuts after the heart transplant surgery.
As soon as I got the confirmation from my new doctor that everything was all right and I made a full recovery after the surgery, I packed all my things and haven’t looked back. He said I was a miracle patient, that no one had ever made such a fast recovery after a heart transplant in all of his career. I was just happy that I could put distance between me and my mother so soon.
Turning off the water, I dry myself and wrap the towel around my body. I have a pep in my step as I shuffle to the small mirror hanging above the square-shaped sink. My heart condition made everything strenuous. So now, I greedily sponge every mundane task I go through without feeling like I’m running up a hill with no lungs. I brush my teeth and then dab a bit of foundation and blush on my face. I tame my unruly eyebrows with a spoolie and curl my eyelashes before coating them in a thin layer of mascara.
When I deem my face presentable enough, I stride to one of the boxes on the floor next to my bed and rummage for something to wear. I finally settle for a pair of straight jeans and a sweatshirt that looks like it doesn’t have too many wrinkles and get dressed.
My loudly grumbling stomach guides me to my fridge. Since the surgery, it seems like I can never eat enough. The idea of stuffing my face as soon as I woke up was never appealing to me. Now, I feel like I will wither and die if I don’t wolf down a whole continental spread in the morning. Strangely, though, I haven’t gained any weight. I’m practically living the dream if you ask me.
I’ve cracked six eggs and am whisking them in a bowl with afork when my phone starts ringing on the coffee table. I make a beeline for it, take the phone, and accept the video call from Chloe, bringing it back with me to the kitchen.
“Hey, Chlo.”
She smiles brightly, and my chest constricts with how much I miss her. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and her beautiful face is free of makeup. “I see you still haven’t unpacked everything.”
