Sera
I meet with Dr.Lee and the surgeons who ruined my death and have now ruined my life. I know, logically, it’s not their fault that Luke is dead, but all I can feel is anger, a new kind of rage at the thought that I have to be alive without him here.
“I know this is hard, Sera,” Dr.Lee says, standing beside my bed as I glare out the window at the brilliant August sky. “But we don’t choose our fates. You were lucky.”
I laugh, harsh, bitter.
“No one ever said luck was always a happy thing,” she admits, and I finally turn to look at her.
“What am I supposed to do now?” I ask, honestly wondering if there’s anything I’ll ever be able to do again. Every heartbeat is a reminder that he’s gone. And I have to spend my life being grateful for that? I feel sick.
“Live your life,” she says, shutting her iPad cover and giving me a sharp look. “There’s no reason to think your new heartwon’t take, but you have a long road ahead of you. You’ll need cardiac rehab to recover from this surgery, then a valve replacement procedure in five to ten years. If it’s easier to just think one or two steps ahead, do that. But then, yes, you should think about the rest of your life.” She packs up her stuff and then turns back with one last thing to say. She must be an older sister, I think. “What would Luke do?”
I don’t respond. Instead, I look back to the window, facing the perfect blue sky, which I will continue cursing until it agrees to turn gray.
What would Luke do? I know what he’d do for himself—we talked so much about it—but I’ve taken all that. Taken everything. More than I deserve. I don’t know how to live with this, the unfairness of it all. My bones feel achy and heavy with grief. My eyes are so tired of crying but then continue to do it. Only my heart, Luke’s heart, our heart, feels light and effortless. Behind it, my soul is bruised and battered, tired and fed up, wanting only rest.
*
Abbi is back in school, like she promised, so my days are taken up with Mom sitting there in the room like there’s nothing more to say. Like I’m just supposed to heal and move on. Paula wants to visit, but my stomach cramps with anxiety at the thought of seeing her. And the thought of Oliver and Adam sends me back into tears.
“It would’ve been better to let me die too,” I sob whenMom mentions Paula and the boys. “How will they ever forgive me?”
“Don’t say that, Sera. Luke wouldn’t want you to say that.” She tries to take my hand, and I push her off. My heartbeat races to keep up with me. The unfamiliar rush of blood makes me feel flush and warm.
“How do you know? How could you let them do this? I don’t want it!” I scratch at my arm where the IV is. “I don’t want it. Please take it out!” I cry as I reach for the bandage on my chest. Mom grabs my arms, holds them down. When I finally settle, she pulls me toward her.
I collapse into her arms and dissolve into tears. There’s no getting away from that sound, the beat of Luke’s heart, keeping me alive and aware and away from him. A nurse comes in, gives me something to make me sleep.
*
I wake up with my face still wet. Hurting all over. Blissfully alone. Whatever they’ve given me has dulled all my edges and dimmed the world around me. The sky has listened, finally, and a gray drizzle greets me through the window. I’m allowed to get up to pee, so I pull my headphones over my ears, put on something loud to drown out my heartbeat. Using my walker, I slowly take myself to the bathroom. Above the sink there’s no mirror; they probably don’t want anyone seeing how truly messed up they look after surgery. I manage to splash my face and brush my teeth. I don’t know what’s going on with myhair, but I’m sure I don’t care. When I leave the bathroom, I’m no longer alone. Maddy and my mom are chatting by my bed. I ignore them. I just want to go back to sleep.
“Look who’s here, Sera!” Mom is overly cheery, and I shoot her a look.
“Hi, Sera.” Maddy puts her heavy tote on the ground. I can’t imagine why she’s brought so much stuff, and I’m pretty sure she’s supposed to be at the diner, but I’ve also lost track of days.
“Shouldn’t you be at work?” I say as I sit back on my bed. Mom lifts my feet to help me back in, then makes up some excuse about needing coffee and leaves us alone.
“I took the day off. I wanted to come see you.”
“I don’t really want to be seen. Sorry to disappoint.” I push the button to make the bed rise, and the noise cuts through the tense silence. Maddy isn’t deterred, though—she’s annoyingly persistent, like usual.
“I brought some of your art supplies over from the studio. Iris thought you might like to paint.” She smiles and plops down in the chair my mom keeps vigil in.
“You don’t have to stay,” I say, strained. “I don’t really feel like painting…or talking.”
Maddy nods. She looks around the room, then back at me. “This whole thing…it’s fucked, isn’t it?” she says point-blank, and though she’s blunt, I see sadness in her eyes. They’re puffy behind her glasses. Luke was her friend too.
I squeeze my eyes shut against the flow of tears, the anger beating at my rib cage. I can’t handle other people’s grief. It’s too much. I’m still shoveling through mine to no end.
“You should go,” I whisper.
“Nah. I don’t have anything going on today except researching French culinary courses. Wanna hear about the differences between the grandes sauces?” Maddy pulls her iPad out of her bag and clicks around. “Some of it’s in French, so keep up if you can.”
She dives into the most boring reading I’ve ever been subjected to. I let her voice wash over me until I fall asleep again.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
