Page 84 of Heart Sick

Of course she is.

I don’t say anything, however, because at this stage, we’re desperate.

“Let’s go to Jack’s house tomorrow and see what we find. With any luck, he might start talking to me again.”

“We really are fucking crazy,” I say with a sigh.

What are the odds? Slim to none this would happen. But I guess it explains why Dutch and I have this inexplicable connection.

“No wonder I like your heart. It belonged to someone I already knew.”

Dutch stands and walks out the door without an explanation. When I realize what I just insensitively said, I exhale in frustration.

“Dutch!” I quickly throw on one of his T-shirts and chase after him, needing to apologize.

I find him standing in the middle of the parking lot, face tipped to the heavens.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’m just frustrated and confused. I likeyourheart because it belongs toyou.” This still sounds like he’s runner-up.

How did we go from being so in sync to this?

He doesn’t speak.

He doesn’t even look at me.

I don’t know how to make this right. I just feel sick inside. Dutch was my safe place. But now, he represents the atrocities I may have committed.

Sadness overcomes me because of who my son was. How did he die? For a mother not to remember her son is a punishment far worse than death.

“Beethoven fell in love with one of his students. He wrote Für Elise for her. She wasn’t the best pianist, so he made the notes easy for her to play. However, she didn’t feel the same and got engaged to another man. When Beethoven learned of her engagement, he was heartbroken and wrote the rest of the song so hard, she’d never be able to play it.”

I listen intently, not sure why he’s telling me this.

“The heart makes you do and say foolish things, and I think that’s because we’re never in control when it comes to love. So there’s no need to apologize. It’s probably true. You probably only feel something for me because of his heart.

“We are drawn to people for reasons unknown. It may not make sense, but the heart wants what the heart wants. My doctor thinks I am suffering from something called heart memory transfer. I agree that the memories I have aren’t mine, but my feelings for you…they’re my own.”

Tears spill down my cheeks because not once did I take his feelings into consideration. He’s suffering too.

“We may be connected to one another because of this fucking heart, but even without it, I know I would still feel the same way I do about you.”

He finally meets my eyes, brushing away my tears with his fingers. He then draws them to his mouth and runs them across his lips. “There’s so much sadness in your tears. I wish I could take it all away.”

One minute Dutch is standing, the next, he’s fallen to his knees, clutching at his chest. “Dutch!”

I scoop him up into my arms, but he fights me. “No, leave me. I can hear it.”

“Hear what?”

“The music, and it’s fucking beautiful. I know what I have to do. To hear it…I have to die.”

“You’re not going to die,” I say, coaxing him to stand and lean against me as I lead us back to our room.

“I die a thousand deaths each time I think your feelings are borrowed. Only here because of this fucking heart!”

He thankfully stops fighting, and when we enter the room, I gently sit him on the bed. I close the door and give him space because I don’t know what to do.

Maybe we’re both fucking crazy. Maybe we really do belong at Parkfields.

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