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“The medication. I don’t know if you know what it’s for, but…I had a heart and lung transplant. A long time ago. I’ll take this medicine for the rest of my life. And there are things…” I glance at the golden ale, “I won’t partake in. Some random foods I can’t have. I mean, you’ll meet some who do drink alcohol, but it’s not recommended.”
I plan on taking care of my organs. In order to receive them, someone else had to die. And another person out there didn’t get her transplant because I got it instead. The responsibility is not lost on me.
“You feel good these days?” I feel, rather than see, Knox’s gaze.
“I do. I’m…my doctors are pleased. It’s been twelve years. I’m doing better than good.” The side of my hand rubs my breastbone. I pull on my necklace so the heart charm rests above my t-shirt and switch to playing with the charm. I’m doing really well. There are others who are doing better. They have transplant games for athletes who perform phenomenal physical feats, proving that for some there are no limits.
“It’s amazing what we can do these days.” Stella says it with awe, and that’s a feeling I share. If I’d been born a hundred years earlier, I would’ve died during childhood. It’s something I think about in every cemetery when I check the dates and see the tombstone of a child. That would’ve been me in the eighteen-hundreds. Or early nineteen-hundreds. My mom would’ve probably chosen a stone that read something along the lines of “Loved by all.”
By the time we’ve finished lunch, I’ve talked too much about the advances we are making. They’ve tested pig organ replacement with limited success. It might not happen in my lifetime, but it’s completely reasonable to expect that in the future, there will be labs dedicated to growing organs and possibly even limbs. Every year, we learn more and more, leading to advances in helping with diseases like cancer and Alzheimer’s. Sloane’s a part of the team ushering in the golden age of medicine.
After lunch, the group disperses. We’re close enough to Knox’s place we could walk, but we drove his Sequoia, a bigger and more luxurious SUV than mine, although his is easily ten years old.
“Why don’t I walk back so you can head straight to the gym?” There’s a facility nearby the Arrow guys use for training. I overheard Trevor and Knox mentioning plans to meet.
“It’s your first weekend in Santa Barbara. I’ve already worked out for the day.” He lifts his shoulders like it’s no big deal, and this thought is just occurring to him, which it probably is. “What do you say to a tour?”
“Well, you’ve gotten in your workout, but I still need to get mine in.”
“Oh?” He brightens like I’ve brought up one of his favorite subjects. “What do you do?”
“A daily three-mile walk. I mean, I know it’s not exercise for someone like you, but I enjoy it and my doctors…” I close my mouth before I share studies on the benefits of walking. Knox isn’t questioning me and I’m sure he doesn’t care about an exercise regime someone like him wouldn’t consider exercise.
“All right. How about this? We’ll head back, drop Millie and the car at the house, and we’ll do the tour on foot. I promise we’ll get over three miles in. And if you want, we’ll swing by the beach so you can get plenty of speed walking in too.”
Refusing is on the tip of my tongue, but his expression isn’t just sincere, it’s a mix of hopeful and boyish. He’s a handsome man when he’s serious, but this expression has my stomach twisting and flipping. I mean, not that that look has anything to do with me. Maybe he’s genuinely not in the mood to lift weights today. Who am I to judge? I hate weightlifting. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than spend an entire day with Knox.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” He slaps his hands together, grinning, like I gave him something. As if. I get a Saturday afternoon with the Knox Andrew Williams.
The first stop along our tour is State Street. The touristy street is a twenty-five-minute walk from Knox’s house, or around thirty-five hundred steps according to my watch. Quaint, artsy stores mix with wine shops, clothing boutiques, and restaurants with sidewalk seating. A portion of the thoroughfare is closed to automobile traffic.
The cute storefronts with awnings and hand-carved signs hanging over expansive windows displaying arts, crafts, and clothes give the street a classic Main Street aesthetic. Many of the buildings are stucco, and the terra cotta gleams golden-tan under the sun high overhead. Almost everyone’s wearing shorts, although there are some brazenly strolling around in string bikinis or shorts with a bikini top. Baby strollers and retirees blend into the pedestrian crowd with ease.
It’s a hot day, and while it wouldn’t be noteworthy back in North Carolina, people here keep referring to it as a heat wave. There’s not a cloud in the sky, but there’s also little breeze this many blocks from the ocean.
A crowd inside a tavern cheers as we pass.
“Do you watch sports?” Knox asks.
“Not really,” I admit. “I’d rather read than watch television. Watching a sports game has never struck me as a rational use of time. I mean, I’m a North Carolinian. I do like college ball.”
He grins so wide he gives me a flash of white. He tilts his head back and claps his hand. I feel like clapping too, simply from his burst of happiness. “I knew I liked you.”
“What team do you pull for?” It’s been a long time since Knox lived in NC. My guess would be the LA Lakers. That seems to be the Cali team of choice if the signs in the bars we’ve been passing are any indication. But he said college ball, so maybe UCLA?
“I still pull for the Heels,” he answers. “I mean, it depends on who’s playing. But I’d say I watch more extreme sports than anything else. Things that inspire me to get out and do.”
I grin. “Pretty sure watching someone jump off a cliff wouldn’t inspire me to get out and do.”
He snorts and directs me to cross the street, pointing the way to the promenade.
“It’s more along the lines of snowboarding. Skiing. Motocross. Cliff jumping…they don’t show that too much.”
“Same thing. Still goes.” I am extraordinarily lucky to be alive. It would be irresponsible to take that kind of risk.
We cross half a block in silence, with me staring into store windows and Knox reading a text.
