“That’s selfish,” I tell her. “Do you think I care what you look like?”
“Hunter,” she says firmly. “I will not put you through this a second time. Losing Ellie was more loss than you should ever have to deal with in one lifetime.”
I twist and squeeze my grip around the steering wheel, wanting to say so much but knowing nothing I say will have any effect.
“What about the flower shop?”
I see her shrug out of the corner of my eye. “I’ll keep working until it becomes too much.”
“And what, you just drop dead one day while you’re alone in the shop?” I shouldn’t have said that. Her eyes are shooting invisible daggers at the side of my face and she has every right to be looking at me that way.
“My mother calls me every hour. If I don’t answer, she will assume I’m dead,” she snaps, finally getting angry, herself. Her tone is harsh, her words cold, and full of so much fucking pain, pain that she’s been trying to hide.
“Can I visit you?” I ask, attempting to act a little gentler. I feel like I already know the answer to this, considering there are only so many ways I can ask the same question.
“No,” she says without much thought.
“But the store is open to the public, isn’t it?” Now I just sound childish, which I know won’t help but it makes me feel better.
“Hunter,” she sighs. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.” Now she sounds like Mom lecturing me. “If you don’t think I would like to die some meaningful death beside the man who has become so intricately woven through every facet of my life, then you’re wrong. I love that you have chosen to spend so much time with me over the past few months. To know the man who lost his heart the day Ellie gave hers to me has offered me more peace than you could ever imagine. Again, though, that was selfish. I wanted to meet you so I could feel better knowing you weren’t still that man folded in half beneath a pay phone at the hospital. I needed to know you were surviving. God gives and God takes. He gave to me and took from you, and I needed to personally thank you because it was the least I could do.” Ari sniffles briefly through a pause in her clearly unfinished thoughts. “You’re an incredible person, Hunter, and I have cherished the time we have spent together—my guilt isn’t as suffocating since I know you’re going to be okay. But beyond that, my selfishness ends here. Now, I want to protect you from watching another person in your life—die.” She makes it sound like she was using me but I wanted to be near her for a selfish reason, as well. A reason that won’t exist for much longer because she’s going to die.
Die. Those three letters pack a punch every time I hear them—they symbolize the end of everything. My ears should be numb to that word by now, but they aren’t. It takes such a short breath of air to say it and while it seems to always be followed by a period, there is no real need for one because “die” defines completion. The period should be a silent punctuation mark; quietly puncturing it’s way through the heart of anyone who witnesses the meaning of this stupid word.
We pull into my driveway and I step out first, watching as Ari stares expressionlessly out through the windshield. I want to know what is going through her mind. I want to know if everything she just told me was a forced lie and that she really does want me to be there for her. But as the thought runs through my mind once more, I remember the last breath I saw Ellie take on her own without a goddamn machine hooked up to her. I remember witnessing her lifeless body only moments after her brain died. The life that was once written across her face relaxed into a smooth surface of plateaued nothingness. I’m not sure I have it in me to live through that again in any form, whether our relationship was based on selfish gains or not, but I would if it meant something to her...I would stand by her side.
I have not fallen in love with Ari in the typical man loves a woman fashion. Instead, I love the person who has taken the time with Ellie’s heart to make sure everything her heart has touched has been cared for in some way. I love that a person was able to keep her heart alive, even if only for a short time. Ellie’s heart was large and full of so much love, care, and compassion that it deserved to go those extra miles.
I open Ari’s door and offer her my hand. “I can get out myself,” she says, humbly. “Thank you, though.”
Once outside of the truck, Ari leads the way toward my front door but I stop her. “Charlotte moved home today.” Ari looks at me for a few long seconds, peering back and forth between my eyes. “She was happy to get her house back.”
Ari’s brows arch a touch as she processes this tidbit of information. Then she turns and brushes by me, heading down the driveway toward the street. I follow her onto Charlotte’s driveway and up to her front door. I still have no clue why she wanted to come here or what she needs to say to Charlotte but we’re here now, and I should find out soon why she’s doing this.
Charlotte answers the door, looking confused at first. “Ari? Are you okay?” She didn’t see me at first glance but now she does and the question grows stronger within her eyes. I give her the same puzzled look back, letting her know I have no idea what this is all about. “Come in,” Charlotte says, backing away from the door, allowing us to come inside. Boxes are now scattered, rather than stacked how I left them. Half of them are torn open and the other half are still taped shut. The furniture hasn’t been taken out of storage yet but the moving company is supposed to be bringing everything by tomorrow morning. Basically, the house is empty.
I hear the girls singing and dancing in one of the rooms upstairs and the echo of their voices tells me that room is still barren, too. “I’m sorry to intrude on you like this,” Ari says, taking in the scene of the empty house. “I’m sure you have a lot to do and you don’t need me taking up any of your time but I felt it was necessary to come over here and talk to you. Both of you.”
Charlotte’s expression has turned into worry, and I can assume she is as in the dark as I am on what this could be about and why Ari wants to be here in Charlotte’s house.
“I’m sorry I don’t have a seat to offer you,” Charlotte says. “You look frazzled. What’s going on?” Charlotte looks at me as if the answer might be written across my face or spoken by my eyes but I don’t think there’s a look to convey that a person in this room is dying.
“Hunter is in love with you,” Ari says in between heavy breaths, sounding as though she just climbed a set of stairs. “He talks about you all of the time. His eyes light up when I mention your name. He talks about Lana as if she were equally as much of a daughter to him as Olive. Sharing a home with you for the past few months was a treat for him, something he enjoyed, rather than a person living with a roommate. You moving out is hard on him. You are the family he has wanted since Ellie passed.
The relationship that has existed between Hunter and I has been a glorified friendship, one I have enjoyed more than I could ever explain. I am only the person who carries Ellie’s heart, and I’m not the one who should be standing between you two.”
“Ari,” Charlotte croaks. “Why...”
“I’m saying this because you look at him the same way. You talk about him whenever you and I speak. You love Olive. You have loved living with the two of them and you are only moving out because you think it is what he wants.”
“That’s not true,” Charlotte says with the sound of hesitation woven through every word. “Not all of it is true.” I’m not sure it matters what parts are or aren’t true. They all essentially mean the same thing.
“Hunter adores me,” Ari continues. “He is in love with my heart. He has been a really good companion and he has removed the guilt I was desperate to shed.” Ari walks closer, taking Charlotte’s her hands in her own. “I feel lucky and grateful to have spent this time learning about him, hearing his happiness poke through his words when he talks about you. I have watched him gradually grow happier as the months have gone by and it’s fulfilling to me. It has made me love him.” Ari laughs softly as a pink blush fills her cheeks. “My heart belongs to Ellie, and Hunter’s heart belongs to you, Charlotte.”
Charlotte’s eyes grow wide as a film of tears underline her lashes. “I don’t think I understand why you’re saying all of this,” Charlotte says.
I feel like I should step in and shield both of them from the pain, but I don’t know how to and I don’t know what to say. I don’t think it’s my right to announce Ari’s preplanned future.
Ari leans toward the stairwell, presumably making sure the girls are not in hearing range. As she re-straightens her posture, she draws in a sharp, short breath. “There was never a life-long warranty on this heart I have and each transplant turns out differently. Some are lucky and live a long life, while others don’t make it through the first six months after surgery. I’ve had almost six years and I consider it lucky.”
