Change of Heart (26 page)

I grin her way, and she visibly relaxes. “She’s gonna do it.”

Casey’s mom looks at me quizzically, then looks to Casey, then back at me. “Really?” she asks, holding a hand over her chest.

“Really,” I nod, grasping Casey’s hand.

She hurries over to hug me, and I sense a repeat of the other day when Casey agreed to the transplant. She’s practically choking the life out of me. Better me than Casey, I guess.

“Thank you, Decker. You’ve brought me my girl back.”

I get a little choked up because, you know, like I said, it’s okay for guys to cry when they’re happy. Mrs. Evans releases me and leans in to lightly hug Casey. No matter how many times Casey tells her mom she’s not going to break her, Mrs. Evans is always vigilant. I imagine this is what she was like when Casey was an infant.

“This is great news. I’m so proud of you, Casey.”

“I know. Thanks, Mom.”

Mrs. Evans holds Casey’s other hand, and we share a moment. Each of us holding on tightly to the one girl who links us together…the girl who means the most to us in the world.

Chapter Forty-Two

Casey

Over the past two days, it seems I’ve been visited by nearly every doctor and specialist in the hospital. I know that’s not the case, but it’s been a bit intense to say the least. Dr. Smythe prescribed me some kind of anti-anxiety drug that is now pumping through my IV. It has taken most of the edge off, but I’m still scared. Terrified even. I want to do this. For Decker. For my mom. For Kate. But most importantly…I want to do this for me.

The valve surgery is scheduled for bright and early tomorrow morning with Dr. Wyatt. He’s been by a few times to check my stats and to talk to us. Us being me, my mom, and Decker. The two of them have barely left my side since I made the decision to have the surgery.

It’s both comforting and unnerving that they won’t leave because part of me, the petrified part, thinks they’re spending all this time with me now in case they can’t later—hence the anti-anxiety meds. And the other part of me that doesn’t want to be alone is grateful for their vigilance.

It’s only me and my mom in the room at the moment. I’d sent Decker down to the cafeteria to smuggle me a chocolate bar. His sad eyes implied he wasn’t thrilled with being sent away, but I sent back my own set of puppy dog eyes, and he caved.

“Mom?”

She looks up from the crossword puzzle on her lap and clicks the button at the end of the pen. Yes, she’s one of the ones who does the crossword in ink. Not fair, I know.

“What’s up? You feeling okay?” she asks when she sees the serious look on my face.

“I need you to do something for me. Something for Decker.”

Her eyebrows scrunch up at my request, and she frowns. “Casey, what’s this about?” Her voice is a little high-pitched, concerned.

“Please mom, just promise you’ll do this for me?” I softly beg.

She looks at me, deep into my eyes. Looking for what? I don’t know. Maybe a sign that I’m giving up or about to hand her my last words to Decker.

Apparently content with what she sees, or at least resigned, she nods. “Okay. I’ll do whatever you want.”

***

“What was that song you were always playing sophomore year?” Decker asks, cuddled up against my back on the small bed.

My mom left about an hour ago to try to get some sleep. I know she didn’t want to leave, but I think she could sense Decker and I needed some alone time since he couldn’t stay the night in my room tonight. I know I’d see them both in the morning, but saying goodbye to my mom tonight had been hard, and I know it will be even worse with Decker.

“That’s not vague at all,” I say with laughter in my voice.

“You know the one…it was a pop song, a one hit wonder.”

I know the exact song he’s talking about, but I’m secretly hoping he’ll start to sing it. “I’m not sure.”

“Come on, it’s the bug song.”

“Something by The Beatles?” I suppress a giggle. Next thing I know, Decker’s left hand is on the side of my rib cage, and he’s tickling me!

“You think I don’t know what you were doing there?”

“Stop…it,” I plead in between giggles.

“Tell me what I want to know,” he demands, raising his voice to be heard over my cackling and the beeping of the machines.

“Fine,” I surrender, trying my best to squirm away from him with zero space to work with. “Fireflies
.
”

“That’s the one! You used to love that song,” he says, settling back into place behind me.

“Yeah.”

We’re both quiet for a moment, the only sounds in the room are the beeps of the machine and me trying to catch my breath while he rubs circles on my side. There’s an elephant in the room. An elephant in blue surgical scrubs.

“Tomorrow is going to suck,” Decker says solemnly, finally breaking the silence.

I’m surprised by his words because he’s remained so positive since our first night together in the hospital. The feel-good meds are keeping me from tensing up, but not from feeling compassion towards the man I love. My best friend.

I reach up and squeeze his hand. I’m not going to tell him that tomorrow isn’t going to suck because I know that for him, tomorrow
is
going to suck. I’ll be unconscious and unknowing while he’s in a drab waiting room most likely driving himself and my mom mad. That’s why I’d asked my mother for that favor earlier today. I had to do something for him. To ease the pain I know will be in his heart tomorrow.

“The procedure will probably be over before you know it.” It can take anywhere from three to six hours—the length of a few movies or a really engaging book. That’s like no time it all in the grand scheme of things.

“Right,” he says, his tone indicating that he’s clearly not impressed with my attempt to mollify him. He sighs. “I wish they could knock me out with you. And then wake me up when they wake you up.”

I smile at the thought. “Would be nice, I bet. You could probably use the rest.”

“I know you’re going to be okay…it’s the only possible outcome. But Case, I’m still scared.”

A few tears escape my eyes. I’m not sure I’ve heard Decker sound this vulnerable since we were kids talking about stuff that was way bigger than either of us understood. I sniffle and roll over to face him, raising my wired arm over my head.

“I’m scared too, Deck. But everything will be okay,” I tell him confidently. “Like you said, it’s the only possible outcome. We have forever to get to, right? Forever together?”

“I think it’s supposed to be ‘together forever,’” he corrects, his eyes nervously darting around my face, as if he’s trying to memorize every inch. My heart breaks for him a little bit more.

“No, that was already a given because you’re my best friend. But we have forever together to look forward to now. Like this,” I say, resting my head against his chest.

“Forever together,” he quietly repeats, kissing the top of my head.

Chapter Forty-Four

Decker

The nurses had to damn near pry me out of Casey’s bed last night. She had fallen asleep shortly after our talk, and I just held her. I knew I should’ve gotten up and left, but I couldn’t. I knew I should’ve woken her up to kiss her goodbye, but I couldn’t do that either. Telling her goodbye makes me feel like I’m not going to see her again.

I’m sitting off to the side while she and her mom talk to Dr. Wyatt, the cardiothoracic surgeon, and Dr. Moore, the anesthesiologist. I had to step away because I can’t hear about it anymore. I usually believe that knowledge is power—the more you know, the less you’re afraid—that’s absolutely not true in this case. The more I know, the more I freak out. There are so many risks—no wonder Casey had been reluctant to have additional surgeries.

I’m fighting an inner battle. I feel like a complete asshole for pushing her to have the operation if these are the kinds of feelings she’d been having. And for her, they were probably amplified since it’s her life and body on the line. And then the other part of me is telling that part of me to shut up, because the thought of no future with Casey is even more terrifying.

I wish my mom and dad were here. I haven’t spoken to them since Casey has been in the hospital because I know that with them being as close to Casey’s parents as they are, they had to have known about her heart and not told me. I’d been so angry at them and so consumed with Casey that I’d never picked up the phone.

Now I just wish they were here. I wish my dad would give me one of his manly half-hugs and pat me on the back, his silent but strong way of telling me he’s always got my back. And I really wish my mom would hold my hand. I know that makes me sound like a wuss, but I don’t care. Sometimes a dude just needs his mom and dad.

The doctors start making their way towards the door, and I tune in just in time to hear them say they’ll be back in ten minutes.

Ten minutes.

My heart is pounding in my chest so hard that if I was hooked up to one of those monitors, I’m positive it would blow up.

Casey’s eyes meet mine from across the room—those deep, brown pools that so perfectly match the milk chocolate we got from Ghirardelli’s days ago. God…that feels like a lifetime ago, but it’s only been a little more than a week.

I step over to her bedside and stand across from her mom. Mrs. Evans is holding Casey’s left hand and I’m holding her right. My gaze doesn’t move from her face, not even when her mom takes my free hand and holds on tight.

No words are spoken for the next ten minutes. We silently hold on to one another and feed off each other’s strength and love, praying to anyone who will listen that everything will be okay. That Casey will be okay.

When the doctors return to wheel her down to the OR, I lift her hand to my lips and kiss it—I can’t kiss her face, I’d asked, something about germs. “I love you,” I mouth.

“I love you. Forever together,” she soundlessly says back.

I smile and take a step back while her mom dotes on her one last time, still not taking my eyes off her beautiful face. Memorizing every last detail to hold myself over until she’s wheeled into recovery in a few hours, God-willing.

Casey’s mom steps out of the way as the staff do what they need to do to make my girl and her bed mobile. I put my arm around Mrs. Evans’s shoulders and feel her trembling. She’s holding it together about as well as I am, and I know that as soon as that girl is out of our sight, we’ll both break.

“We’re ready to go,” one of the orderlies says.

Casey looks at us, her eyes wide. “I love you both.”

“I love you, Case,” I say, thankful my voice didn’t crack.

“I love you, sweet girl.” Her mom’s voice breaks on the term of endearment Casey’s dad always used for his daughter.

Casey smiles and relaxes back onto the bed. “I’ll see you later,” she calls out as they roll her out the door.

Mrs. Evans collapses into a chair sobbing, while I fall back against the wall, holding my head in my hands.

Please let her be okay. Please let her make it through this. She has to. She just has to.

***

Thirty minutes later, Mrs. Evans and I are sitting in the waiting room, mindlessly watching TV. They gave us a random number for Casey so we can keep updated on her status. A screen on the wall, which oddly looks like a giant, color-coded spreadsheet, lists the numbers and the statuses. Since we’d arrived in the waiting room, Casey’s has said “pre-op” and then “OR.” That won’t change for a while, but it doesn’t stop me from looking to the screen every couple minutes.

A quiet commotion at the door jerks my attention from what is probably my tenth time looking at the status board in as many minutes. I rise to my feet, patting Mrs. Evans’s knee as I stand. I move towards the doorway as if being pulled by a magnetic force.

My mom sees me coming and bursts forward, wrapping her arms around me as soon as we make contact. I feel like I’m five years old again, being comforted after skinning my knee or bumping my nose. When I feel my dad’s palm firmly land on my shoulder, I tremble and let loose an anguished sob.

“Shh,” my mom coos. “It’s okay. She’ll be okay.”

“How did you…how are you here?”

“Maureen flew us out.” I pull away from my mom and look over at Mrs. Evans; she hadn’t mentioned she’d spoken with my parents.

“Casey asked me to,” she quietly tells me, and I nod. It’s just like Casey to know I’d need my mom and dad here with me today.

“Why don’t we sit?” my dad suggests, and we all follow him to the little alcove Mrs. Evans and I had taken over in the corner. My dad sits beside me and my mom sits beside Casey’s mom, holding her hand in silent support.

“How long has she been back?” my mother asks.

I glance at the status board. “Thirty-seven minutes. She’s been in the OR for fifteen. Her number is four-one-nine-six-three.”

“How long is the procedure?”

“It can take anywhere from three to six hours,” Mrs. Evans tells my dad.

He nods and looks to me, his face crestfallen. “Look, son. Your mother and I can’t tell you how sorry we are for not telling you about Casey.” I look at my dad, I mean really look at him. This man, who has always been my invincible hero, looks like he’s aged ten years in the few weeks since I’ve been home.

“It doesn’t matter now, Dad. I know why y’all did it. I might not agree with it, but I get it. Casey and I talked, we worked it out, and it’s full disclosure from here on out.”

My dad nods and pats my shoulder. My mom and Mrs. Evans both give me watery smiles, each looking apologetic. Yes, I had been pissed at all three of them. Four if you include Casey, and five if you include her dad. But it doesn’t seem appropriate to blame the two of them right now.