Page 35 of Heart Sick

I don’t know what’s happening. Everything simply fades and it’s just Bowie and me…and the sound of his heart.

“Then come with me,” I say, unsure what exactly I’m offering. I just know I don’t want to leave here without him.

But I see it even before he speaks the words. “I can’t. If I go back out there, I’ll never find out what’s wrong with me. And if I can’t play music, I don’t want to exist.”

And here is the conundrum—I am faced with literal freedom, but do I want it? It seems so…pointless. What am I going home to? An empty house filled with bittersweet memories. But in here, maybe I can find myself again…just like Bowie.

“No, don’t you do that,” he commands, reading my thoughts as he cups both my cheeks in his large palms. “You want this, you take it.”

But that’s the thing—I don’t know what I want.

A beeping alarm shatters the beautiful moment between us and when Bowie looks down at his watch, I realize we’re running out of time. Time, it really is the one thing in life we cannot change, only learn from. And I’ve learned that life is short, too short for regrets.

So with that thought in mind, I reach for Bowie’s hands and wrap them around my waist. I step into his embrace and do what I’ve wanted to do since the first moment I saw him—I press my ear to his chest and listen to his heart beat.

I feel warm. And happy.

“I want to stay.”

There is no other place I want to be than right here, in Bowie’s arms, listening to the cadence of his heart.

Here I am, lying on a black leather couch, about to divulge my deepest, darkest secrets to Dr. Norton.

On any other day, I would rather cut out my own tongue and eat it, than talk about what is wrong with me. But if I don’t do this, I’m afraid I’ll never be able to play piano again.

But for the first time in a long time, I have hope that this is temporary because last night with Luna inspired me in ways I don’t understand. She had the chance to run, but she didn’t. She chose to stay. She didn’t specify what the reason was, but I like to think I have some part in it.

Touching her feels so natural. She’s fucking beautiful, but that’s not what it is. I feel like a tether connects us together and at times, it’s us versus the world. I’ve never felt such a deep connection with another human being before.

It’s no wonder I want to play whenever she’s around. I’ve only ever felt this way with music.

“So, I’ve spoken to colleagues and they’ve suggested we start with when you first woke from your surgery,” Dr. Norton says from her high-back chair, legs crossed as she opens a spiral notepad.

She’s not wearing her usual doctor getup today, but instead, has on a tight black dress and heels. I realize I don’t know much about her. She looks to be in her thirties and I’m sure is not short of admirers. Not only is she smart, she’s beautiful as well.

I don’t want to do this, but I close my eyes and try to remember.

“The first thing I remember is the sound of…it.”

“Of your heart?”

“It’s not my heart. It never felt that way. It still doesn’t. It’shis.”

“That’s just your mind playing tricks, Dutch. It’s completely normal for one to feel that way. It’s similar to an amputee who can still feel the limb. It’s called phantom limb sensation.”

“But in my circumstance, my limb isn’t missing, it’s been replaced with this diabolical imposter.”

I can hear her pen frantically scribbling across the paper. I wonder what she’s writing.

“What did you do with it?”

A sudden pause in her scribing.

“With what?”

“My heart.”

“It was disposed of with all of the other medical waste.”

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