“You might find it hard to see him like this,” Sam says as I’m putting on a gown. “He’ll be groggy. His throat is sore—he may not be able to talk much.”
I nod.
“I didn’t want to go into everything in front of Percy, because it makes her queasy, but I think it’s important to know what he’s been through,” Sam says. “The surgery involved making an incision and separating his breastbone. His chest will hurt. Actually, everything will hurt.”
It’s hard to breathe. Charlie spent the summer waiting for this. I think of how lost he sometimes looked, how sad. And now I know why he wanted a seventeen-year-old summer, too.
“It’s a complex surgery. His aortic valve was replaced with his pulmonary valve, and a donor valve was put in its place. During that time, his heart was stopped. There was every reason to be confident it would go smoothly, but…”
Sam looks away. I can tell he needs a moment to hold it together.
I nod again. It’s hard for me to speak, too.
“He’s no longer intubated, but there are a lot of tubes—in his arms, his torso,” Sam says gently. “The room is full of equipment. There are several monitors and beeping. It might be overwhelming.”
“You’re telling me not to freak out.”
“I’m asking you to try.” Sam places a hand on my elbow. “But it’s hard to see people we care about like this. Do your best.”
My nose stings at the kindness in his eyes, the way he knows that I care. I care so much. I look at the ceiling, blinking the tears away. I’m going to see Charlie after he’s had cardiac surgery, and I need to stay calm.
“Sorry. I’ll be okay,” I tell Sam.
He studies me. “Would you like me to come in with you?”
I shake my head. “I can do this.”
“Then I’m going to take Percy home to rest, but I’ll get her to text you my number. If you have questions after you see him, or anytime, just give me a call, okay?”
“Thank you.”
He turns to leave.
“Sam?”
He pauses, meeting my eyes.
“Who else has been to see him? Who else have you called?”
He pulls his mask down his chin, giving me a soft smile. “Just you, Alice. I think you probably know that.”
And with that, Sam leaves me alone in the hall outside of Charlie’s room.
“I’ll be okay,” I tell myself. And then I open the door.
Charlie’s eyes are closed. His hair is longer now, and his skin has lost its summer glow. He’s lying down, a blue gown loosely draped over his upper half. There are all manner of lines going into his arms and neck, along with IV bags and screens, just like Sam said. I ignore everything. I focus only on Charlie.
Not wanting to wake him, I quietly move to the chair next to his side, watching his chest rise and fall, blinking back tears.
Charlie hasn’t opened his eyes when he speaks. “Stop staring at me, Alice.” Every word sounds pained.
“How do you know I’m staring?”
“Because you can’t help yourself,” he croaks.
Slowly, he tilts his head toward me. Stunning green eyes meet mine, and I can’t help it, tears roll down my cheeks, dampening my mask.
“I’m so mad at you,” I tell him. “And I’ve missed you so much.”
