Page 46 of The Lies You Love
“Son,” Mom says, soothing me by rubbing one shoulder as soon as I sit in a leather chair. “This doesn’t change anything.”
Stefan is sitting at a desk in the corner staring at me like I’m insane or an illusion; I can’t be sure. “It changes a lot of things,” I say. “Why do you think it’s her? Auden?” I ask Stefan.
He lifts and lowers one shoulder. “A guess, Beck. I’m probably wrong.” He says the last sentence like he doesn’t believe it. “I did so much research while Maisey was on life support as a way to distract myself. The way the procedures would be done, the scars, the quality of life for the recipients. It was a way to validate her decision, I guess. When I saw the scar, it took me back to those dark days and I had to know the details behind Auden’s transplant. I was compelled,” Stefan explains. “I shouldn’t have. When she told me the name of the hospital, I was scared to ask her anything else. You can’t deny that they have the same body size. It makes sense.”
I rest my elbows on my knees and hold my head. My stomach flips and I fear I might vomit right then and there. “The timing matches up?” I croak.
“Yes, and the hospital the procedure was done at. There aren’t many hospitals that do it. It was anonymous on our side, but if I remember correctly, it wasn’t anonymous on the recipient’s side. We could find out for sure who Maisey’s parts went to with a little legwork.”
I slam my glass down on a side table. “No. No we won’t find anything out. It doesn’t matter.”
My mom asks me to calm down, and Stefan startles when I stand. “This isn’t funny. This isn’t a joking matter.”
My dad’s voice booms from behind me. “That’s enough.” He thrusts a tablet at me. “I found it all right here. Stefan is right. Auden has Maisey’s heart.”
There’s a list. Like a grocery list except more extravagant with numbers, codes, and language I somewhat understand from vet school. With names attached to different organs. I stare at the glowing screen blankly. “Someone has her eyes?” I nearly choke on the sentence. “How could you let this happen?” I ask Stefan. He looks down and Mom starts explaining once again how it’s what Maisey asked for. “Stop. I can’t listen to this anymore.” The second I say it, I scroll to the next page and there it is, in black and white. Auden’s name, another code, and the words cardiac transplantation. The tablet falls from my hands and the room tilts upside down. Someone is saying my name but it sounds far away like I’m at the bottom of a well. She has Maisey’s heart. My sister’s heart beats inside the chest of the woman I love.
I’m trained to school my emotions and to never give anything away. There’s no controlling this reaction. This knowledge has the power to alter my entire existence.
I blink a few times and my mom is standing in front of me, both hands on my shoulders. “What does it change? It’s a coincidence. It means nothing. It means nothing,” she whispers again. “It’s just an organ.”
How can she say that when my entire career is dedicated to the motto, always protect the heartbeat? “I need to go.”
“I’ll go with you,” Stefan chimes in.
I shake my head. “The fuck you will. I need to go alone.” They lied to me. A lie by omission is a lie all the same. “The one thing I couldn’t protect, the person I couldn’t protect,” I say, voice trembling. “The one thing I couldn’t save, is beating in front of me, existing in my world, and you didn’t think I’d want to know? I changed my entire life because I lost Maisey. I gave up my dream of becoming a vet to find a new purpose, and now,” I say, swallowing when the emotions become too thick, “By some twisted fucking fate, I’ve fallen for the woman who is alive because my sister is dead? It’s too much. Too fucking much. I have to go.”
I run out of the house, slamming the door on my way out. The driveway is long and I don’t turn around until I’m halfway to the road. The sky spins and I glimpse Auden, or who I assume is Auden, in my bedroom window on the top floor, her pale face reflecting in the moonlight. The impossibility of the situation wars with the truth. Nothing will dictate my life except my own decisions. Nothing. I can’t perform my job as a Charge Man while trying to protect her, too. It will be akin to losing Maisey twice. I lay a hand on my slick forehead and close my eyes. Turning away from the house, I jog out onto the road and try to catch my breath. I pull my cell phone from my pocket and find the app to call a ride. I don’t know where I’m going, but I can’t stay here.
****
The morning sun creeps over the horizon as I stumble out of the back seat of a beat up sedan. The transmission makes a clanking noise every six seconds. “Can you make it home from here?” a female voice calls out the open passenger side window. I put up a hand as response as I stand, swaying from the alcohol and the delirium from lack of sleep. There’s a hole in my shirt the size of my fist, and the collar of my t-shirt is stretched and saggy. The car pulls away from the curb, shooting fire out the back with a loud bang.
I don’t remember a thing from last night except asking for the whole bottle of whiskey and the bartender telling me no. There isn’t any heartbreak or morose memories when everything is numb. It’s wearing off, and when my parent’s house comes into view, it all rushes back in. The hurt and betrayal are nothing compared to what I know I need to do. I don’t go into the front door; opening the side gate I enter the garden and throw myself down on one of the outdoor sofas under a pergola. Lying on my back, I stare up at the creeping vines that threaten to block the sky any second. I wish they’d wrap around my body and hide me from reality. The question racing through my mind now that I’m lucid is why? Why did it have to be Auden? Why Maisey? Why the combination? One why I’ve come to understand is why Maisey was an organ donor. It was a very Maisey thing to do. Sacrifice and philanthropy at the highest level. The hardest why to swallow is why I’m going to walk away from Auden. A pang rips through my chest as I cover my eyes with my forearm.
“Where have you been all night?” Auden asks in a soft voice. I didn’t even hear her approach, and my heart starts hammering. I’m trying to be brave, but tears sting my closed eyes. “Your face is bleeding.”
I don’t dare move my arm. “I was around,” I say.
“Around,” she parrots. “Okay.”
“I need some time to myself,” I say, praying my voice doesn’t shake.
She’s quiet for several seconds, but then she yells, “You had all fucking night to yourself, Beck! Where were you at?” Her voice quivers. “You left me here.”
I blow out a noisy breath. “I’m sorry,” I say, damn if that isn’t an all-encompassing apology. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Okay?”
“You can’t even look at me!” Her voice echoes, and the pain slices at me. “I heard the conversation last night,” Auden says, tone lower. “I know why you’re upset.”
“Why are you here then? Why are you giving me hell?”
“Why are you acting like I did something wrong? Like I had a damn choice in this? I suppose I did; I could have just died!” She hiccups, trying to catch her breath. “A lot of the days, before I met you, I wished I did die. I’m sorry for living. I’ll never be good enough. Trust me, it’s a fact I live with every day.”
The second I uncover my eyes, I know I’ve made a mistake. Her face is red from crying, and she still looks fucking stunning. Looking at her hurts like hell. It forces me to remember all the nights I spent with my tear-soaked pillow pleading with God. If he would only give me my sister back I’d do anything, be anyone he wanted me to be. Is this some sick joke? Is this how he’s sent her back to me? Leaning over the side of the sofa, I heave, the contents of my stomach splattering across the pavement. Then once more, until it feels like there’s nothing left inside of my body. Auden jumps back, but now she’s crying because of how I must have looked at her—like an enemy who makes me physically sick. “So, you’ll know why this,” I mutter, gesturing between our bodies, “Can’t happen.” My eyes drop to her chest. “I can’t do that—can’t face the fact day after day.” Wiping my mouth, an angry tear sneaks out. I wipe that away, too. “You have to understand that.” I keep my eyes trained on the vomit instead of the woman I love. “You’d be selfish if you didn’t understand.” I nail my point home with something I know she won’t argue back. The door for negotiation closing completely with my last sentence.
“That’s it then,” she says, sniffling.
I can’t speak, I don’t trust myself, so I nod.
