Prologue
Almost three years ago…
It all happened so fast.
The call from the doctor. The news of her new heart. Time was of the essence, and there was little time to contemplate what was actually happening. It was probably for the best. Less time thinking of everything that could go wrong. Complications during surgery or her body rejecting the new heart were all valid concerns. But no one talked about that now. Between her family and the medical staff, it was all positive. She’d been briefed on the procedure long before today. So much so, she’d thought she was fully prepared.
I’m not.
In a matter of hours, she and her family had been contacted, piles of paperwork had been filled out, and she was set up in her pre-surgery hospital room. She’d been poked, prodded, and had multiple wires hooked up to several machines monitoring her. There’d been an influx in the number of doctors and nurses coming in and out of her room. This was a big deal.
I know.
Finally, things had begun to settle and quiet down.T minus one hour.In less than sixty minutes, she’d be rolled into surgery and put to sleep. Hours later, she’d wake up with a new, healthy heart. In less than twenty-four hours, her life would make a sharp turn from her “normal” downhill spiral and fast-track to the end. Not of life, of course. For Addison Huxley, it would be her new beginning.
My second chance.
It seemed like a dramatic reference. Yesterday she wasn’t dwelling on her heart transplant. It didn’t consume her every thought. Maybe at the beginning, a year ago, when she’d been told she was being put on the waitlist. Nobody liked waiting, especially when it could mean life or death. But it essentially became part of her every day. She lived her life and hoped it would all work out in her favor.
And by all accounts, it had.Kind of.
Somewhere, enroute, a beating heart was being kept on ice.For me.Someone else’s heart. And there was where it got tricky. Realistically, Addison knew how the human body worked. She’d taken science class like everyone else and knew the basics. All the essential organs needed to live. A year ago, she was given her diagnosis, and her only option was a transplant. Aside from a lot of big words she didn’t understand, it seemed cut and dry. Almost simple, with the biggest obstacle being the waiting. They couldn’t give her a specific time frame for how long it would take. Because no one could predict death. But that wasn’t how it was explained.When a heart becomes available.As if they were out of stock and on back order. It had been an emotionless conversation.
There were specific factors to matching a donor heart. That’s what the doctor had called it.The donor heart.Addison didn’t question it at the time. Why would she? A year ago, it was a plan with countless what ifs. It wasn’t real.
It is now.
She was getting a new heart. And the donor?I don’t know.There was so much happiness and focus surrounding her surgery. It was all about Addison. The donor was never mentioned.Ironic.This person, a stranger, lost their life, and because of that tragedy, everyone around her was celebratingAddison’s second chance at life.My best day was their worst. Because they died, I get to live.
Addison drew in a breath, trying to calm her nerves. It was easier to control her body physically.Except for that damn foot.It shook uncontrollably. It was as if it had a mind of its own. No matter how many times she moved her leg or tightened her muscles, it wouldn’t stop shaking.
Until…
A hand clasped around her ankle, and she jerked her gaze to the end of the bed. Andrea, the nurse who had been taking her vitals, was gently but firmly grasping her and offering a warm smile.
“Contrary to popular belief, we’re not always in full control of our bodies. Our brains get the final say.”
True.
Addison flattened her lips, forced a smile, and nodded.
“Nervous?”
It was a yes or no question but not an easy answer. Addison was prepared. She understood exactly what was happening. The staff had been great about updating her with everything. She’d been given a play-by-play. So, was she nervous?
I don’t know what I am.
She stared up at the ceiling in silence.
“My grandmother used to say, ‘penny for your thoughts’. But with inflation, I’ll bump it up to a quarter.” The joke was corny but welcome, and made her chuckle.
“This is the first time in twenty-four hours that it’s been quiet. Eerily silent. Kind of like when the weather channel announces a record-breaking blizzard, and everyone freaks out. There’s a mad dash to the grocery store to clean out the shelves. Lines at the gas station, setting up the generator. Flashlights and batteries, candles, and lighters.” Addison laughed, thinking of the last major snowstorm a few weeks before. “It’s like sheerpanic, as if the apocalypse is coming. And then once it starts snowing” —She paused, glancing over at Andrea— “it just gets quiet. And you’re left with only your thoughts.”
Andrea’s face softened. “That’s a damn good description. Are you a writer?”
I wish.
Addison scoffed. “Bartender.”
