#heartmatch Page 4
Samantha lifted the mask. “Why’d I have the shots?”
Elizabeth replaced the mask. “You don’t have to lift every time you speak. I can hear you just fine.” Elizabeth propelled the wheelchair down a pristine hall. “Vaccines decrease the chances of developing infections that can affect the transplanted heart. Any other questions, my dear?”
Samantha wavered.
Elizabeth stopped moving and faced Samantha. “Come on. Ask me.”
“For me to survive someone has to die. That makes me sad.” Tears welled. Her throat constricted as she held back the urge to cry.
Elizabeth crouched in front of her and clasped Samantha’s hands. “There are many of us on an organ donor list. If I died tomorrow, just knowing someone could live because I’m willing to give an organ, well—that knowledge gives me peace.”
Samantha gripped Elizabeth’s hands tightly and sighed.
“You have to be a little egoistic. And besides, don’t you want an improvement in the quality of your life?” The nurse patted her hand then gently released her and stood before changing the subject. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No,” Samantha said quietly.
“And why is that?” Elizabeth prompted. “I would bet it’s because you never go out.” She moved to the back of the wheelchair and began pushing.
“My mother home schools me.”
“Surely you use the computer to communicate with friends.”
“My friends stopped coming over. And yes, sometimes I meet people online.”
“Well, there you have it. Get better and eventually seek those friends out.”
“Could I ask a favor?”
“If it’s not for barbequed ribs, go ahead.”
“Could you call me Sammy?”
“Can do.” Elizabeth squeezed Samantha’s shoulder.
###
Weak winter sunlight melted some snow off the sidewalks. Jason’s mom had recently started a day shift, easing his mind to some extent. He’d been consumed with boredom at the house, so he’d grabbed his skateboard and spent the morning at the skate park. Sonic ran with him.
His phone vibrated in his left pocket.
Ignore. It’s dad.
The other pocket held his securities. A rolled joint and one Fentanyl tablet.
He’d been a boarder for years. What he liked most about boarding was he could do the sport he loved alone and never talk to another person. That’s the way he wanted it.
You don’t bother me and I’ll leave you alone too.
This passion of his had kept him sane after his dad left.
Around noontime Jason skated home, fixed a sandwich, opened a soda, and headed straight to his room. He moved the mouse to light the laptop’s screen.
Shit.
Another message from his dad. He clicked.
“It’s Darla. You there?”
“What the fricking bullshit is dad gonna try now?” He turned the video on.
“Pass me to my dad,” Jason ordered.
“He’s at work. Can you and I chat for a while?”
“She’s hitting on me,” he said under his breath. At least her boobs weren’t hanging out this time.
“We’ve got nothing to say to each other,” Jason uttered.
“Look Jason. You don’t know me, so don’t judge.” She took in a breath. “My dad died when I turned nine. Heart attack. There one day, gone the next.”
“So that’s why you go for older men?” He scowled hoping she’d see his disgust.
“Maybe. Although I didn’t break up your mom and dad’s marriage.”
“I think you did. He’s got money, you’ve got looks. You pulled him in like a sucker on a fish line.”
“What I do have is a university education and that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Darla said.
“Not interested.”
“One day you’ll wish you hadn’t frittered your time away.”
“Look. No preaching. I’m done. Outta here.” Jason started to disconnect.
“Don’t go. I’ll change the subject. Just give me ten more minutes.”
He glared at the screen.
“Please be our best man at the wedding. I’m not interested where the ceremony takes place. Here or there for all I care. Wherever would make your dad happy. He loves you so much.”
“Like crap he does.”
“Jase—”
“Don’t call me that. I’m Jason to you.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“You fricking hurt my feelings when you stole dad and my mom changed.”
“Rethink what you just said, Jason.”
She got closer to the screen. He automatically scooted back.
“I did not kidnap your dad. That’s just a ridiculous statement. He’s almost fifty, for gosh sake. He can make up his own mind.”
Jason wanted a smoke. He took the joint out and looked in the drawer for a lighter.
“Your mom changed? I’m sorry. That’s not my fault either.”
Where’s my lighter?
She tapped the screen. “Listen to me.”
He looked up.
“Just love and support her. Be the man in this picture. She might not be around forever, you know.”
Jason flicked the lighter and drew on the stub.
“And that, right there,” she pointed to the joint, “repulses me. Grow up.”
She broke the connection. The screen darkened.
Shit. Now she’ll tell dad.
###
Samantha switched off the television when she grew tired of hearing about the worst storm in decades getting closer to Denver.
“Mother,” she whispered to the woman dozing in a chair beside her bed. “Hey.”
She jumped. “What’s wrong, my dear? Need to go to the bathroom?”
“Go get something to eat. You’ve been up here all day.”
“No, sweetheart. I’m fine. Really.”
“I just need some time to myself,” Samantha lied.
“Oh.” She checked her phone. “Okay. Text me if you need anything. Promise?”
“Promise, mother.”
She placed the laptop on Samantha’s thighs before she left.
Can’t fool her anymore.
Samantha opened her computer and clicked on the #heartmatch site.
“Are you back yet?” she typed. “Can you talk?” Jason hadn’t been online for days.
“I’m here. Don’t wanna talk though.”
Jason’s happy face profile picture didn’t fit the tone of the words he typed in.
“Something not right?” Emoji sending a hug appeared.
“Just about everything. Today I’m on this earth. Tomorrow, who knows?” He wrote.
“You’re alive. That counts.” Samantha had a hard time listening to the complaints of others. To her—she just wanted to live. She typed. “Jason do you believe in fate?”
“It’s called coincidence.” A lengthy pause before he went on. “If I get hit by a flying flowerpot as I walk down the block—it happened by chance.”
“That’s fate.” Samantha typed. “Hey, let’s Facetime.” After she hit send, Samantha winced, unsure about seeing him face-to-face. If he accepted her offer of Facetiming, he’d soon find out everything about her.
A smiling face emoji popped up. Samantha giggled. “You just sent me an emoji?” She wrote and grinned.
“Let’s exchange numbers,” he typed.
One minute later, Samantha’s phone rang. She answered the Facetime call.
“Hey, nothing’s ugly so far,” Jason said.
She moved her phone around the room. “This is where I live.”
“In a bedroom?” he asked.
“A hospital room.”
His brows furrowed.
“What happened? You have an accident?”
“I’m dying, Jason.”
She moved the phone to her IV, the heart monitor machine, her face.
Her voic
e trembled with emotion. “If I want to live, someone dies.”
“I don’t get it.” His stare sharpened. His gray eyes darkened. “Sam, I mean ah—” he paused. “I’m not feeling too well. I gotta go.”
Jason disconnected.
###
The screen image had mesmerized Jason. He couldn’t tear his thoughts away from the impression she’d left. On his run to the bathroom, he tripped. His guts erupted and vomit, spewing like lava, landed everywhere.
He pulled the Fentanyl tablet from his pocket, crawled to the bathroom, stood before the mirror, cupped his hands to drink, and washed the medicine down his throat.
“Sleep. That’s all I want right now,” he moaned before throwing up again. “What the fricking crap just happened?”
He laid on his back, head in his own puke, legs spread, glaring at the ceiling. The word fate crossed his mind before he gave the air his middle finger.
###
After cleaning up the mess, Jason showered and stood outside with Sonic while his dog looked for a place to poop. With only his boxers on, the freezing air numbed Jason’s extremities. He huffed trying to warm his fingers.
Sonic scooted back inside. For a split-second Jason imagined the door shutting, locking him outside. He shivered at the thought. He’d been locked out before, right after his dad had disappeared from his life.
He slipped into a pair of jeans and a Polo sweater and sat behind his computer screen.
According to California time his dad should be home. Jason had to give him an answer about the wedding. His mom texted she’d be working extra hours, so he wouldn’t have to worry about her for the moment. He clicked on Skype and his dad’s connection.
It rang several times.
The picture came into view and there sat Darla, all goody-goody, with her arms folded in front of her.
“Your dad’s working overtime. I’ll tell him you called.”
“Ah—, I—”
“You Skyped to tell him about the wedding, right?”
“Un-huh.”
“I can imagine your answer,” she smirked.
That’s it.
“You don’t know shit about me and don’t fricking listen to what my dad says.”
“Your dad? You’re all he ever talks about. He says, ‘I miss him so damn much. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat.’” She mimicked in a low voice. “I hear that day in and out.”
“Then he shoulda stayed here.”
Darla shook her head. “You don’t get it. He fell out of love with your mom. There’s no going back. Ever. Got that?”
“Dad screwed you before he left mom. If you hadn’t—”
“He didn’t. I wouldn’t let him near me until he showed me the divorce papers. Believe me or not.” She homed in on his stare. “My mom taught me better than that.”
Jason dropped his gaze and fiddled with the bottom of his shirt. When he lifted his chin again, Darla smiled.
“Get to know me, Jason. You might end up liking me.” She paused for a moment. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll talk your dad into marrying me here. Justice of the Peace. We’ve done the paperwork. Easy peasy.”
He became suspicious. “And then?”
“He leaves right after the wedding and spends your birthday with you. Alone, just the two of you.”
Jason shrugged his shoulders. “Why would you do that?”
“You both need some time together. To talk things through so that the past can close and the future can open.” She inhaled deeply and let her breath out slowly. “Better for everyone. Maybe even your mom.”
Shit now I really need a joint.
“Did grandma Rosie call you?”
“She’s called. She won’t talk to me.”
“Do you think dad will go for coming here?”
“He will. Trust me.”
“You’re pretty sure of yourself.” A slight smile lifted the corners of Jason’s mouth.
“I’ll do this one thing for you because you’re a good kid who just wants what’s best for his mom.” She thought for a bit. “Kinda like me.”
Jason lifted his arms in question.
“My sister and I are all my mom has. She never married again after dad died. She lives a sad, lonely life now that my sister and I have left home and she’s all alone. Don’t let your mom turn out the same way.”
“My mom’s become an alcoholic,” Jason confessed.
Darla nodded. “Sadness and loneliness can do that to a person.”
“She won’t get help.”
“Probably because she truly believes she can stop any time she wants.”
He nodded.
“Hey, your dad’s coming in. Want to talk to him?”
“Not today. Maybe tomorrow.”
“He won’t bite you know.”
“Yep, I get that. I’m still mad at him, that’s all.”
She grinned and covered her mouth with her hand, whispering. “Okay, let’s talk tomorrow and I’ll tell you when he’ll arrive in Colorado.”
“Okay.”
The image disconnected.
FEBRUARY 11
Saturday
Samantha finished her lunch, put her computer on the tray beside her plate, and pushed the cart away. Earlier Nurse Elizabeth had given her a sponge bath. Her mother had gone to the hospital’s chapel. The television showed only news and upcoming hockey games.
Her laptop chimed. She turned toward the screen.
Skype. It’s daddy.
She put a hand to her chest to still the flutters. Maybe her stomach gave those signals and not her heart.
She pulled the cart over to her bed and clicked. His video picture popped up.
My handsome daddy.
Of Swedish decent. Laugh lines decorated the corners of the most gorgeous green eyes. A smile that exhibited perfect teeth. The towering height of a professional basketball player.
“Hey there baby girl.” A smile lightened his concerned gaze. “That mask is becoming. You’re even more beautiful.”
“I’m number one on the wait list.” Samantha sighed. “Doctor Sadana said I had to stay in the hospital.” Her throat tightened. Tears welled. “Hurry home daddy. Please. You’ll be here with me during the operation, won’t you?”
“Yes, my love. I’m leaving Tuesday morning. Weather permitting, I’ll land in time to share lunch with you.”
“Tuesday,” she gasped. “What if my donor—”
I can’t say that word.
“Sweetheart?”
“Yes, daddy.”
“I hope guilt isn’t taking over your thoughts.”
Samantha disregarded his question. “There’s a storm coming. Did you forget Tuesday is the fourteenth? Valentine’s Day?”
“That blasted storm’s why we’re waiting. Rest assured. The snow tempest is predicted for tomorrow. Monday should be a good, clear day and just to make sure, we’re leaving Tuesday, which will be an even a better day to fly.” He grinned. “I wouldn’t miss one more special day with the other love of my life.”
Samantha glanced outside. “There are no clouds in the sky. Please come home today.”
“I can’t. I’ve got some important documents to finish up before I return.”
“Papers are more important than me?”
“Honey, some of my people could be deported if I take off today and leave them hanging.”
“It’s Saturday. When you’re here you don’t work on the weekend.”
“Sammy.” He reached out a finger out as if to caress her cheek. “I’ll be there. Trust me. You just take care of yourself and your mother. Besides, you can watch us fly.”
“Facetiming while you’re in the air?” She smiled. Her daddy always made her smile.
“Yep. That’s right.”
Her nurse tiptoed into the room.
“Is that Nurse Elizabeth I see in the background?”
Samantha nodded.
“Miss Elizabeth, take care of my baby girl until I get back,” her dad tea
sed. “Okay, Sweet Pea. I have some paperwork to catch up on and—”
“Can’t you stay online for a while longer?”
“I wish I could. I’ll Skype you tomorrow and Monday and Facetime Tuesday as we’re departing.” He kissed his fingertips and touched the screen.
“Bye.” Samantha closed the lid and sighed wistfully.
I’ve always been my daddy’s girl.
She fretted whenever her dad was out of town. He tucked her in every single night, except for when he worked away from home.
Elizabeth checked the IV drip, then took her blood pressure and temperature. The nurse’s head bobbed absentmindedly.
Is she talking to herself? Did I just hear her say the word bitch?
“Everything’s looking good.” Her nurse smiled. “Do your friends call you Sammy?”
Samantha shook her head. “That nickname’s reserved for special people.”
“Well then, I’ll thank you for the exceptional compliment, my dear.”
Elizabeth went around Samantha’s bed tucking in the sheets and smoothing the quilt.”
“I love the photos of you. This one is so cute.” She motioned to a picture of Samantha and her parents, taken during a thirteenth birthday party.
“If you don’t mind my asking, what’s your dad do?”
“He’s a lawyer.”
“Does he travel a lot?”
“Un-huh. He works with immigrants and their rights.”
Elizabeth nodded. “And your mother?”
“She used to teach at a university. Now she home schools me.”
“Could I put your laptop away?”
“Not yet. There’s someone I want to chat with after—"
“After I leave the room?” Elizabeth smiled then checked her watch. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”
“If you see my mother along the way, could you keep her out? I mean like distract her?”
“Yes, Sammy.” Elizabeth laughed. “I’ll keep her occupied with some of my own stories.”
“Elizabeth?” Samantha rested a hand on her breast.
“Yes, dear.”
“My chest hurts.”
“Are you sure it’s a physical pain?”