“Does Olive enjoy the snow?”
“Not really. She is one of the very few children who would rather sit inside and sip hot cocoa than get all bundled up to go out and make a snowman. She prefers the warm weather.” And just like that, I’m yapping like a fool. Clearly, this woman knows exactly how to get me to talk.
Amy leans forward, pressing her elbows into her thighs. “I don’t think there is anything wrong with you, Hunter. It sounds to me like you’re a doting father and just a little lonely without Ellie. That doesn’t exactly define the word crazy. I know that’s why you must think you’re here right now, but most of the time, I just listen to things no one else wants to hear you say over and over.”
I lower my head in debate. I know I need this but I also know what happens every time I cave to the idea of therapy. It opens old wounds and I end up exactly where I am right now. “I don’t know,” I tell her.
“And that’s fine,” she says, pressing her lips together. “Take all of the time you need. Amy reaches to her desk and retrieves a business card from a little marble tray. “If you decide you need someone to listen to you, call me.”
I take the card from her fingers and slip it into my coat pocket. “Thank you,” I mutter. I’m glad she didn’t ask me to make an appointment or make me feel guilty for not making one. I’m thankful she isn’t pushy and is honestly allowing the decision to be mine, unlike AJ and I’m guessing Mom, who is likely hiding behind AJ.
As I stand from the chair, I feel a vibration in my back pocket. Without considering the thought of being rude as Amy is reciting the hours in which she can be reached, I look down at the screen of my phone, seeing the notification of a new text message. I pressread.
Ari: I’m here.
I quickly thumb the keys to ask:
Me: Where?
Ari: My shop. 250 Main Street.
I peer up at Amy, who is now watching with a curious expression. “Is everything okay?” she asks.
“Yes, it’s great.” It’s more than great.
Her brows knit together with confusion. “Whatever that message was, it certainly changed your mood pretty fast.”
“It’s—“ I hesitate before unveiling more information about my life. She seems more interested than anyone else I would share this with, though. “It’s Ari, the woman who has Ellie’s heart.”
“I don’t understand,” she presses.
Elation is bubbling in my stomach and I just want to leave but I remember now that AJ is waiting in the lobby for me, and I’ll have to explain to him why I have walked in and out of here in ten minutes.
I look back down at my phone, pondering for a moment before typing in my next message.
Me: Will you be there in ninety minutes?”
Ari: Yes, I will be here until five today.
I glance up at the clock and sit back down in the seat, removing my coat to make myself more comfortable. I interlace my fingers and rest them on my knees as I lean forward. “Ellie died giving birth to our daughter, Olive. To my surprise, beyond her death, she had a private agreement outside of our joint will that stated she would donate her heart if the situation were to arise. Since she died from an aneurysm, her request was fulfilled. Weeks after Ellie’s death, I began receiving letters from the recipient. They were all anonymous. Five years have gone by, and last week, for the first time, the woman with Ellie’s heart asked to meet me.”
Amy looks intrigued—beyond intrigued, really. There’s a passion filling the question in her eyes. She must love what she does...hearing the stories, then trying to place the puzzle pieces back into the perfect picture she never saw in the first place. Without direction or an image to copy, it must be difficult. “It turns out I have met this woman a few times before. She’s wonderful and captivating, and she knows secrets about my wife that Ellie never cared to share with me. This has all come to a culmination in the past week and it feels as if my mind is imploding.”
Amy laughs quietly. Not a mimicking type of laugh, a sympathetic and commiserating type of sound. “We just got through about five sessions worth of information in three minutes,” she says, leaning back in her leather chair, which whines against her weight. “People don’t always keep secrets to hurt others. Sometimes they keep secrets to protect the ones they love. I’m curious, though, you said Ellie and this woman knew each other?”
“I guess so; though, I’m just learning this now,” I tell her.
“How interesting,” Amy says. “Are you going to continue searching for the answer?”
“How can I not?” I respond. The constant thoughts of Ellie keeping secrets from me have consumed me and caused ripples in the life I have tried so hard to put back together. “Yes, I need to see this woman again.”
“Do you think you are happy to see this woman because she owns this secret or because she has a piece of Ellie alive within her?”
“Both,” I tell her. Of course, it’s both.
“Do you have feelings for this woman?” she continues.
Flashes of Ari’s eyes seep into my mind as I consider this answer. “I’m not sure. I was in the beginning of a nice relationship with a woman who happens to live across the street from me, but she isn’t exactly interested in being with me as I figure out my feelings for Ari, the woman with Ellie’s heart.” The answers are so simple, yet the resolution is so difficult. I’m not sure anything will ever be resolved and I could end up in the same situation I was in before I met Charlotte. Alone. If I never find another woman to be with again, it will be fair, though. Most people aren’t lucky enough to have an Ellie in their life for as long as I did and then live on to experience anything even remotely close again. I’ve come to terms with living out the rest of my life focused only on Olive, but it seems lately that a part of me wants to be selfish, as well.
