I don’t go back inside to check whether I’m right, I just continue heading for my car. It sounded like a cell phone, but it can’t be mine since that’s in my pocket, Stacey has hers, and there’s no other phone in the house. Turning up my music, I back out of the driveway and head to the hospital. Tightness creeps back into my chest again and I rub it out with my fingers before exiting the car. Of course that’s the one time I don’t bring the envelope with me and have to turn around halfway to the door to go back and grab it.
The sun has fully taken over the sky. I feel like I’m melting when I step away from my car and make my way to the large gray building. Cool air greets me as I walk through the double doors, and I head toward a smiling woman standing behind a gray stone desk.
“How can I help you, sir?”
“Hi, my name is Silas Adams and I’m here to drop off a letter for my donor’s family.”
“Oh, I believe we spoke on the phone. I’m so glad you could make it in. I’m sure they’ll be happy hearing from you. The family usually is. Please keep in mind, they don’t always write back.”
“As much as I’d love to hear more about the man who gave me his heart, telling them thank you is just as important to me.”
“Of course.” Her brows bunch together as she types away on her keyboard. Tilting her head, her brow wrinkles. “Are you sure this is the right hospital?”
“Yes.” I press my hand to the desk, leaning over a little. “This is the very hospital I remember leaving and coming back to for a follow up.”
“That’s weird. I don’t see your name in our system. What’s your birth date? Perhaps it’s spelled wrong.”
Giving her the information gets me nowhere again and she calls her manager to see what can be done. He comes down to tell me what was already said. My heart is a roller coaster of emotions and I can’t slow it down, worried it’ll slide off the rails soon. This isn’t possible. How could my information randomly vanish?
“That can’t be right. I had my transplant here and was a patient for weeks. How could my information vanish so quickly?”
“I’m sure it’s some misunderstanding. Maybe our system is experiencing a mishap. Give us a call in a few days and we’ll check again for you.”
“Yeah.” I shove the letter in my back pocket. “Okay . . . Wait. My doctor. He stopped by to visit me here. You have to know him. Dr. Preston.”
“Ah. Yes. Dr. Preston. He does have patients here but we still aren’t seeing your name. We’ll give him a call and I’m sure we can get it all settled in no time.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’m sorry we couldn’t be much help today,” the manager says, forcing his lips into a smile. Everything about him is so plastic. His eyes are empty and I can’t help but feel he’s hiding something.
Nodding, I turn around and walk back out into the blistering heat, back where I started. I’m leaving with no new answers and more questions than before. Pressing my hand to my chest, I close my eyes and focus on the fast beat against my palm. Whose heart is inside me? I feel like I might know the answer but don’t want to admit it out loud.
I pull out my phone, googling heart transplant side effects and click on the link mentioning memory transfer. My chest squeezes at all the words in front of me. It’s like they’re all blending together the more I read about the possibility ofgaining your recipient’s memories, dreams, and interests. My breaths are shallow and my chest caves in as I press my hand tighter to it. If that was the case . . . I . . . no. It can’t be.
Do I have Landon’s heart in my chest?
Sliding my finger up to the search engine again, I type in “Landon Pena” and “boating accident.” There are various articles saying almost the same thing with a few minor details differing. Some say his body was never found and some say it was. Which is it? It can’t be the first one. I look at the date of the accident and suck air between my teeth when I realize it’s the same day I almost died. The day they told me I had a donor.
Feeling lightheaded, I lower my phone and close my eyes again, remembering the hands touching Elijah in my dreams, the clothes I was wearing as I was being dragged into the warehouse, and the voice that didn’t sound like mine. They really were all memories, weren’t they?
The thoughts follow me until I’m falling asleep half drunk on the couch, trying to escape a new living nightmare I can’t wake up from.
Seventeen
Elijah
I keep looking for Silas at the restaurant and the bookshop. It’s been days since we’ve seen each other. He hasn’t been at the lake either. I don’t have anything left to return to him, so I don’t know how weird it would be to show up at his house again and ask if he needs help moving more furniture. I drive by the flower shop, debating on whether to stop in and check how my order is coming along. After circling around the store, I decide to keep going and grab dinner from a nearby fast food place so I can eat it at the lake.
Getting out of my car, I grab the paper bag and look up at the stars, smiling before shutting the door. I walk up to my favorite spot on the dock, lowering myself onto the wooden planks, and set my food between my spread-out legs. A few boats are in the water and some people are talking near the parking lot. Lights create shadows and leave the water glowing in random areas. It’s as beautiful out here at night as it is in the daytime, and morestars sprinkle the sky, reminding me of Silas as much as the sunshine does. I picture him joining me and talking my ear off while I try to enjoy my peace. Maybe a little noise wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Grabbing my burger, I take slow bites in between shoving fries into my mouth. Landon hated when I ate two different things at one time.
“It brings all the flavors together better,” I used to tell him.
The cook in him never accepted that answer. In his mind some foods needed to be enjoyed separately or with one bite at a time, not shoved in all at once like some uncivilized human being. It’s what he called me when I didn’t chew before swallowing, talked when I ate, and tried to kiss him with food still in my mouth. I chuckle at all the memories and then my heart sinks when I remember I’m burying him in only two days. I’ll have to say goodbye all over again, but at least it will be the last time. That’s one comfort.
I think he’d like Silas. I think he’d like that I wasn’t spending every day wasting away too. He used to ask me if I’d wither away if he died first, and I found it strange how the questions came out of nowhere. After learning about him being sick, it made a little more sense why he wanted to ensure I’d be okay without him. He and Silas were both so sporadic and unpredictable but in different ways. Yeah, he’d really like Silas and how he can easily get me to smile. What he’d hate is me pining after a married man. Is he judging me for it now?
