#heartmatch Page 3
“Mom, stop.” He put up his hand. “He fricking left and for that—he can go to hell.”
She stared at the floor.
“Look. Mom. I’ll make a promise to you and maybe you can make one to me.”
She stared at him suspiciously. “I’m listening.”
“I’ll call dad if—”
Shit. I can’t go there.
“If I call you when I’m leaving work?” A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “I can do that.” She took a couple of steps and embraced him. “I won’t break that promise ever again.”
“Okay.” He took an unsteady breath. His shoulders slumped. Why didn’t he have the courage to ask her to quit drinking before she killed herself? “And I won’t break mine.”
“I love you, sweetheart. Never forget that.” She sighed. “Now off to work for me.” She opened the front door, stopped, and blew a kiss. “Call your dad.”
Jason nodded and she left.
###
Jason let Sonic back in before turning on his computer. Sam wasn’t online. A Skype message popped up. He clicked on the icon.
The bastard lies in wait. Mom probably texted him.
“Turn your camera on, Jason,” his dad typed in a private message.
The almost-fifty bastard man who’d left with someone half his age appeared on the screen. Jason stared at his dad’s image. Bastard left just because he couldn’t keep his junk in his pants. He aimed two middle fingers at him.
“Come on, dude. I want to show you around our new place. Invite you to come and visit.”
Jason hung up and closed the window out.
“Stay out of my life, you snake,” Jason mumbled as he jumped out of the chair. He took a rolled joint out from under his mattress, opened the window, and puffed.
FEBRUARY 8
Wednesday
Sprawled out, legs atop of her favorite quilt, Samantha clicked channels.
Talk shows, news, a doctor’s show about the dangers of opioids.
She pressed power. The screen blackened.
Doctor Sadana moseyed into the room and put more pamphlets on her tray. “How’s our patient today?”
They all expect good, fabulous, feeling fine doc.
“Awful.”
He raised a steel-wool colored eyebrow as his dark brown eyes searched hers. “That’s to be expected.” He put a hand to her forehead. “Headache?”
“I want to go home,” she said without looking at him.
“Your heart has weakened, and fatigue has set in. You went up on the transplantation list yesterday. Once we find a match we’ll need you here, not stuck in traffic.” He grinned. “So, no going home right now.”
Samantha didn’t comment. She turned her head to glimpse the laptop screen.
No message from Jason.
He cranked his neck to see her computer. “I see you’re online. Are you reading up on heart transplantation?” When she didn’t answer, he nodded. “I’ll leave you to rest.” He left whistling.
Rest?
Tears of frustration formed. Her body ached. She lay in the sterile hospital room with an IV needle in her vein. Everyone non-medical appeared on edge, including herself.
She was alone. Her mother had gone to the cafeteria for coffee. Her concerned dad had left a phone text message saying he hoped to finish his business in Seattle by the end of the week and head home. She wanted him sitting right here beside her. What if she died during surgery?
Samantha adjusted her laptop and connected to the #heartmatch site. Jason’s profile picture, showing him as connected, lifted the corners of her mouth into a smile. He’d changed the image and left a message.
She typed. “You there?”
As she waited her gaze took in the white room. A television hanging from a ceiling swing-arm mount, the bathroom door on the right, and the entrance door directly in front of her. An antiseptic smell permeated the room. The breakfast tray had already come and gone.
Samantha tapped the keys again. “Sorry I missed your message. A bit busy here.” Wide-eyed emoji.
“Yep. I’m here.” Jason’s photo popped up. “You wanna Skype or Facetime?”
He can’t see me like this, Samantha mouthed. “No, thanks.” Smiley face emoji.
“You a boy in disguise?” Jason typed in.
Laughing emoji. “Nope.”
“Married with kids?”
A shocked emoji. “I’m eighteen, like I told you. And ugly.”
“And bald? Who cares?”
Her mother walked into the room. Samantha closed the lid.
“Are you Skyping your dad?”
“I’ll catch him later.” She hesitated. “Mother, could I have some privacy?”
“What?” Her mother looked momentarily taken aback then regained her composure. “Sure. I’ll go buy some magazines.” She left shaking her head.
Samantha reopened the lid. She had to go back into the site. She beamed. Jason had stuck around.
“Sorry about that? My mom came in.” Samantha typed.
“You at home?”
Thinker emoji. “No.”
“You always carry your laptop with you?”
A nurse entered to draw her blood. Samantha stopped typing, closed the lid. The nurse moved her laptop to the nightstand.
Shoot. He’ll get tired of these lapses in conversation and leave.
Samantha opened her computer again after the nurse left. “He’s gone. Well, that’s that,” she uttered.
###
Jason clicked on the killer game involving lethal fun. The object of the game—stalk and chase until the kill. He could be the assassin with his dad the enemy. He’d designed a snarling photo of his dad and stuck the picture on a bobblehead-like stick figure. Jason took aim at the pathetic caricature and started shooting.
After several pleasurable hours of slaughtering his dad’s image, Jason checked the bottom of his computer. Time for his mom to get off work. He lifted his gaze to stare at the window. Dark, but not snowing.
“On way,” his mom texted.
“Time to clean up my act,” he muttered to himself.
He picked up the clothes strewn around his room, took empty glasses and plates into the kitchen and loaded the dishwasher. Shaving and a shower came next. Just so he wouldn’t look so much like his dad, he took the scissors to his hair, cutting as close to the scalp as he could.
The scraggly aftereffect made him chuckle. Next, another selfie. He changed his #heartmatch profile picture again and left a short message for Sam.
“A smile to make your day.” Sounded stupid. He shrugged and decided to leave the message anyway.
Headlights lit up his bedroom wall. A car door slammed. Jason strode across his room, through the hallway, and into the living room.
He opened the front door. His mom stumbled into his arms, sobbing.
His heart picked up speed. His biggest nightmare. An accident.
“Mom, what happened?”
“I—we—”
He held her away from him, searching her face. Mascara streaked her cheeks.
“Tell me what’s wrong.” Jason clutched her shoulders between his hands. “Mom?”
“Your dad—”
Jason stiffened. After killing his dad over and over during the early hours of the morning, maybe he’d really died. True he hated him, but he was still his dad. Jason only wished him dead in the games. Not in real life.
“What happened to dad?” he reluctantly asked, not sure he wanted to know.
“I thought he’d come back to us. I told myself to give him a few months and he’d return.”
His mom blew out a breath and hiccupped. Jason whiffed.
Damn. Whiskey this time.
She stumbled into the kitchen, crying. Jason followed and waited for her to continue.
“He always said I love you when we texted. He—, he doesn’t though. I know that now.”
“He doesn’t?” Jason pretended ignorance.
“Matthew,�
�� she whispered. “My husband. My soulmate.”
Her knees buckled. Jason grabbed her under the arms to steady her.
“Your dad—” her body leaned into Jason. “He just told me he’s going to marry that girl.”
His mom sank down in the closest chair. Jason’s throat constricted. He’d rather have his dad dead than to see his mom hurt like this. He wrestled with the gloomy solitude of his own mind.
Bitch.
Now he’d have to kill his dad and soon to be stepmom in his games. He couldn’t let this happen. He needed to figure out a way to keep his dad single. “Mom, it’ll all work out. You’ll see.”
She opened her purse and pulled out a silver flask.
“Don’t. Please,” Jason begged.
She tilted the container up and guzzled. “I don’t care anymore. I just don’t give a shit.”
Jason flinched. He’d never heard his mom cuss.
She rose and staggered out of the kitchen toward her bedroom.
His phone vibrated. He took out his cell and read.
“Answer Jason or I’ll cut your phone off. I still pay most of the bills you know.”
His fingers texted his dad in a fury he’d never known.
“What the shit did you just do to mom?”
“She told you, huh?”
“That piece of crap is my age. What the hell?” Jason’s fingers flew over the keys.
“Don’t insult Darla. She’s good for me, son.”
“Well, she’s surely not after your dick. Maybe it’s your money she wants.”
A long pause before his dad answered. “Wait until you meet her. You’ll learn to love her like a mom.”
“She’s twenty-five years old, for fricking sake.”
“Like a sister then? Come on out, son. I want you to be my best man.”
“Fricking bastard has lost it,” Jason muttered.
“If you don’t come to California, we’ll come to you.” His dad typed.
Jason pounded a fist upward wishing the air was his dad’s head.
“So? What is it, Jason boy?”
“How can you hurt mom like this?”
“I fell out of love. Simple as that.”
Jason didn’t want to talk any more. He did want to get in the last word though.
Jason typed. “Just go to fricking hell.”
He put his phone on Airplane Mode. If his dad called, the cell would go directly to voicemail. The urge to unfriend his dad on all his social media sites was strong, but something in his head said not a good idea.
Worried, he strode to his mom’s bedroom to check in on her. His heart beat double-time as he eased open the door. She lay across the bed, still in her uniform. He pulled off her shoes and threw a comforter over her. He left the nightstand light on and exited the room.
###
“Damn balls are freezing,” Jason said as he wrapped his comforter closer around his body and sank down on the outside back steps. He needed to smoke a joint and think.
So, dad gets his jollies from this Darla girl. He’s not leaving her. Maybe if I figure out a way to make her want a younger man, she’ll leave him.
Jason drew on the joint a few times. He grinned.
Ridiculous. She’d never go for me.
He laughed before continuing the conversation with himself.
And there’s mom drinking herself into unconsciousness. She needs another man to make her happy. Maybe a doctor.
He toked some more. Life began to take on a new meaning. “Yep, weed makes me happy.”
But first I wanna check something out.
Inside Jason checked the medicine cabinet in the main bathroom. Pulling out a bottle he read the label.
Fentanyl.
He remembered snatches of conversation between his mom and grandma when grandpa stayed here before he died of cancer. He remembered how this pill made grandpa forget his pain.
“Give him another pill.” His grandma had cried.
Why does mom still have these pills? Grandpa died. She should have destroyed this container.
He gulped.
Could she be taking pills with alcohol? She’s a nurse. She’d know better than to mix the two. Maybe she’s planning suicide. I should hide these.
“Shit,” he hissed. Jason stuck the container in the pocket of his sweats, stepped out from the bathroom, glanced in the direction of his mom’s bedroom, and hurried to his room. He closed and locked the door.
After opening his computer, he went to Skype.
He private messaged his dad. “I’m ready to talk.”
Jason waited.
His dad should be dressing for work. Tie, blue shirt, suit, perfectly shined shoes.
Yep, Mister Bastard Real Estate Agent. You can sell a house full of termites and the clients will thank you for it.
“Sup Dude?” His dad typed. “Turn on your video.”
After turning on the video and seeing his dad’s image, Jason’s middle finger came up in salute.
His dad scowled. His forehead creased. “Not a nice way to say good morning,” he said as he adjusted his tie. “I’m leaving for work. I can’t stay in bed all day like you do.”
Jason remained stony-faced. “Mom’s not doing so well with this marriage thing.”
“She’ll get over it.” He shrugged into a suit jacket then pulled his long dreadlocks back into a low hanging ponytail. He kept an eye on Jason all the while. “You get your hair cut? Looks a bit jagged. You use the scissors yourself?”
Jason stared.
When the heck did his dad get dreadlocks?
“Are you coming out for the wedding?”
Jason didn’t answer because Darla pranced into the picture. Black long hair, freckles across her nose, blue eyes, and red lipstick.
Damned bitch.
“Hey, big boy,” she cooed. “Your look just like your daddy.”
“Jason, this is Darla. Darla—Jason.”
“Come out for the wedding, Jason. You can meet my sister. She’s a little older than you.” Darla toyed with her hair then bent over, showing cleavage.
“I can’t.” Jason crossed his fingers under the desk like a six-year old would do. “I have to study.”
His dad stood. “Okay. That settles it. We’ll have our wedding in Denver where your mom and I married.”
He’s bluffing. Dad would never hurt mom like that.
“Wait, dad. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Me stupid?” His dad’s grin convinced Jason he’d conned him.
“Let’s talk more about this later. I’ll think about it.”
“We planned on a Valentine’s Day wedding. Got to hurry this thing up.”
My birthday.
“Why that day?”
His dad laughed. “So, I’ll never forget an anniversary.”
Darla giggled.
“Anyway, Jase. You decide and let me know tomorrow so we can finalize our plans.” His dad winked.
So, he can remember his anniversary? Nothing about my birthday?
The connection went dead.
“Dammit to hell. What the shit do I do now?”
FEBRUARY 10
Friday
Samantha’s mother fidgeted nervously near the hospital window. “Your dad can’t come back this weekend, sweetheart. He’s heading home on Tuesday.”
“No,” Samantha cried out. “I want him here now. What if my surgery happens before he gets back?”
“He’ll be here before surgery. No worries.” She glided to the other side of the bed. “A storm’s moving in. You know how your dad and I are about turbulence when flying in small airplanes.” Her mother started to pet Samantha’s head.
“Stop, please. My body’s kinda sensitive, especially up here.” Her fingers ran circles on both temples. “Daddy’s not driving here?” Samantha lay back and rested her head on the pillow her mother had just fluffed.
“No. He’ll turn in the rental.” Her mother moved a hand to the arm bruises left by IV needles a
nd sighed. “A friend will fly your dad back to Colorado once the weather clears.”
Samantha stared at the window then the television. “I’m so bored.” With one foot she removed the cover over her feet. She squeezed her eyes shut trying to bring her beach dream into focus. She imagined aquamarine water and pebbles peppered in the sand before her mother’s chatter broke into her fantasy.
“Should I turn on the TV?” her mother asked, placing the cover back over her feet and tucking in the ends at the foot of the bed.
Samantha sluggishly shook her head. She wanted to nap. To dream about the far-off, peaceful places she would visit one day.
Places daddy has told me about.
“Do you want to use your computer? It’s charged.”
Why should I? Jason’s not answering anymore.
After a slight knock the door opened.
“Samantha?” A woman dressed in a spotless jade green top with matching pants walked up to the bed. “My, you’re as beautiful as Doctor Sadana said you were.”
“And you are?” Samantha’s mother asked as she glanced at the nurse’s nametag.
“Ms. Wettler.” She turned to Samantha. “Please call me Elizabeth. You and I are going to be close buddies. I’ll be your healthcare provider from now on.”
A heartfelt smile came with the friendly face. Samantha’s eyes widened. A Rock Star beautiful woman. Her eyes held a tricolored sparkle that shifted from brown to green and gold. Reddish-brown hair braided into a twist that hung at the nape of her neck. A smooth, flawless complexion and a slim figure completed her Rock Star look.
“Do I need to step out?” Samantha’s mother asked.
“No need. We’re off to the lab to redo a couple of Samantha’s diagnostic tests and after those I want to explain the transplant procedure again.” She took Samantha’s hand in her own. “You’ll probably have a lot of questions after we’re through at the lab. I’ll be at your beck and call. You can ask anything.”
“I haven’t seen you here before,” Samantha commented.
“I’ve been moved from the Emergency Room to this floor. Now let me get a wheelchair and we’ll head downstairs.”
###
Samantha exited the lab with an oxygen mask over her face. She pointed to the mask and shrugged.
“Doctor ordered this. You’ve been struggling to catch a breath after the smallest exertion,” Elizabeth explained. “End-of-stage heart failure doesn’t mean the heart is about to stop beating, but the tests showed your oxygen levels are too low.” Elizabeth wheeled the chair, oxygen cylinder tank in tow.