Page 42 of Hearts to Mend

This is the second time he’s said words to this effect in the last twenty-four hours, but last night he’d thought he was dying. During his stroke, he’d declared his everlasting love for me and Matty like they would be his last words. This, though, is different. There is no duress here, only honesty between us on this hospital bed.

Now it’s my turn to tell him my truth, but what is that truth? My truth is, well, complicated. I know that I love Rico, I always have, but he left me once before, and it nearly broke me. Can I trust him not to do it again? That thought sends me into a panic. But part of me wants to take that chance on him.

For too long, I’ve insulated myself, isolated myself, so no one could ever hurt me again. My mom left me for pills, and the pain of that tried to break me, but Rico was there to keep me from completely closing myself off. When I lost him, too, I buried myself in work, running into fire like a defense mechanism, keeping everyone at a distance, too far away to ever hurt me.

And it’s been lonely.

Maybe now is the time to lower my defenses and try to trust again. I open my mouth like I’m going to say all of that when one of the nurses comes in to check on him and inspect the numbers on the machines. Like we’ve been caught, young lovers groping in secret, I pull away from Rico’s grip and stand from his bed, pacing around the small room as I stretch the aches and pains out of my back.

Rico tries not to seem too disappointed by the timing of her interruption as he asks, “What’s my prognosis, Patty?”

“Everything looks good. We will want to do another CT to confirm, but you seem to be responding well to the treatment. I think the doctor will be ready to release you in the morning.”

“In the morning?” He fails to mask his disappointment this time.

Patty nods and gives him an emphatic smile.

“And after that?”

She blinks.

He clarifies, “When will we know why this happened to me?”

“Oh. Your doctor will refer you to a cardiologist and a neurologist to follow up, and they will likely order a lot of tests.” She keeps talking while she works. “I’d expect they’ll want to perform an ultrasound of your arteries to see if they spot any plaque that might have broken loose into your bloodstream. They will likely also order an echocardiogram of your heart, probably with a bubble study, to determine if there are any abnormalities. I’m sure they’ll get to the bottom of it. In the meantime, you rest up. Your brain is doing a lot of healing right now. It needs the sleep.” Patty gives Rico’s shoulder a squeeze, assuring him she’ll be in again when it’s time.

After she’s gone, we share a silent moment before Rico says, “You don’t have to stay.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have to spend another night here, but you don’t.”

“Are you kicking me out?”

“No, I just—”

“Then I’m staying.” I settle back into my chair, trying to look comfortable. He smirks at me, like he’s going to argue, but I jump in first. “Remember when I got chicken pox?”

Rico’s face softens into a wide smile. “How could I forget? You infected me.”

“You infected yourself, dummy. Always sneaking over with thermoses of chicken noodle soup.”

He shrugs bashfully, and it’s adorable. “You were sick, and your dad was useless. Someone needed to make sure you ate and got healthy again.”

His words, those memories: they split a fissure in my chest, right through my heart. I change the subject back to him. “But then you got sick, too, so much sicker than me.”

“The price of love.”

Jesus, he’s going to do me in. It hurts to remember how close we used to be, how I always wanted us to be, and, if I’m being honest with myself, how I want us to be again. I change the subject again. No more talk of love in the time of chicken pox. “I think your mom knew I was sneaking into your room at night with soup.”

He smiles wide. “She did. She’d ask about you in the mornings.”

I laugh. That little lady has always been too aware. We couldn’t slip anything past her.

“But since you’d already had the pox, there wasn’t any harm in exposing me to your healing powers.”

I guffaw. It’s a very awkward explosion of laughter at the thought of me with any sort of power to heal.

“I’m serious, Dee. You save people all the time. You’re a healer and a hero. You always have been.”

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