How to Save a Life (12 page)

For a moment, I’m not thinking about Sheila and Darrell anymore. I’m thinking of Jamie and how I long to tell him the truth about what’s happening with the tree. I’m falling in love with him, and Merel is right; love has to start with honesty. Maybe it can’t ever be real unless I let down my walls.

“Can I ask you a favor?” I ask Merel.

He nods.

“My friend works up on the pediatric oncology floor with me,” I say, pointing toward Children’s. “If I send her down in a few minutes, can you tell her what you just told me? She doesn’t think I know a lot about love, so I don’t think she’ll take this advice from me. But I think she’ll listen if it comes from you.”

“I’d be happy to talk with her. But why do you think she doesn’t trust your perspective on love?”

I shrug. “I’ve never really been in a long-term relationship.”

He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Dear, that doesn’t mean you don’t know love. In fact, perhaps it means the opposite. You’re strong enough on your own not to have to fool yourself into thinking you’ve found love when you haven’t yet. You will one day, and then you will know. Your friend will realize then that perhaps it was you who knew the most about love all along.”

“
T
HERE
’
S A MAN outside I’d like you to go talk to,” I tell Sheila fifteen minutes later, when I find her at the nursing station.

“What?” she asks distractedly.

“I know it sounds weird. But just trust me. His name is Merel, he looks like he’s around ninety, and he’s sitting on the bench across the street waiting for you.”

She looks up. “Waiting for
me
? Why? What are you talking about?”

I realize that in this version of today, she hasn’t told me yet about Darrell. “You’re not yourself lately,” I tell her. “And I’m wondering if it has to do with relationship stuff.”

She looks surprised. “What makes you think that?”

“Just a gut feeling. But listen, Merel gives the best advice of anyone I’ve ever met. He’s been married to his wife for seventy years. She’s actually in surgery right now, so it would probably be a nice distraction for him to have someone to talk to.”

She puts down her iPad. “So did he give you some advice?”

“As a matter of fact, he did.”

“I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that he told you to get laid, since that’s the only logical advice someone could give a person in your situation.”

I sigh. “Not exactly.” But at least I see Sheila’s words for what they are now: a reflection of what she’s going through. It’s easier to reduce love to centering around sex than it is to deal with it head-on. “But he knows what he’s talking about. Please? Humor me. And don’t hold back with him. He can help you the most if you’re honest.”

She stares at me for a minute and then nods. “I guess I’ve got nothing to lose. You’ll keep an eye on the desk for me?”

I nod.

“Hey, wait,” she says as she starts to head for the elevator. “Weren’t you supposed to have a doctor’s appointment today across the street?”

“Uh, it was rescheduled.”

“Well, don’t worry,” she says with an easy smile. “Everything will be fine. You’re way too young for anything to be seriously wrong.”

I watch her as she gets into the elevator and disappears. It’s only after she’s gone that I’m struck by what a strange statement that is coming from a person who works with the sickest kids in the hospital.

Thirty minutes later, Sheila returns with red eyes and damp cheeks. “Can you cover for me for a few more minutes?” she asks, sniffing as she looks at the floor.

“No problem.”

“I just have to make a quick call.”

“To Darrell?”

She hesitates. “Yeah.”

“Good,” I say. “Just be honest!” I add, as she heads down the hall.

She gives me a watery smile, and then she disappears into the break room.

L
OGAN AND
I
are just coming back from asking the tree for one more day when we spot Darrell emerging from the elevator beside ours, clutching a bouquet of flowers and making a beeline for the nursing station.

“That’s Sheila’s husband,” I whisper to Logan.

He grins. “You did a good job, then.”

We hang back and watch from near the elevator bank as he strides toward Sheila. She turns and sees him, and her whole face lights up.

“Darrell?” she asks, more vulnerable than I’ve ever heard her.

“Baby, I can’t imagine ever being without you,” Darrell says, handing her the flowers and then kissing her deeply. “I’m so sorry I left.”

“I’m so sorry I hurt you,” she says. “I never, ever meant to make you feel like I didn’t love you.”

“I know that now,” he says.

As they lean in and begin talking more quietly, Logan reaches for my hand. “Now you just have to remember to do this on your last today.”

I can feel tears in my eyes. “I’m not ready to think about that yet.”

“I know,” Logan says. “But you’re learning fast. And when your life feels completed, it’s time.”

“How can it ever feel completed?”

Logan squeezes my hand. “Don’t worry. It will. You’ll see.”

11

I
REALIZE BY
the time I get home that night that I have the same sense Logan does: that my todays might be running out. At first, I think I assumed I’d get years’ worth of repeated days like Logan, Frankie, and Katelyn did, but that wouldn’t make sense, would it? As much as I rue letting go of this life, I have to admit that I’ve had much more time than the kids have had, and therefore, I have fewer milestones I need to achieve, fewer things I need to make up before I feel a sense of completion. For the kids, they had to at least partially grow into adults before they were ready. I, on the other hand, found adulthood years ago. It’s just a matter of having the courage to connect the final dots in my life.

And so I make a decision. I need to focus on making each of my remaining days truly count. So far, I’ve been coasting, coming in to work each day and being mostly reactive rather than proactive about the things I do and the people I encounter. But maybe it’s time to ask myself what I really want—and how to get it.

I think of the conversation I had with Logan about the things that would make my life complete. I told him that I wanted to fall in love, have a family, and reconcile with my dad. It occurs to me that at least the latter goal is within my grasp. There may not be time left to get on a new path and start over with my father, but there’s time to forgive, at least. I don’t want to die with any anger in my heart, and that means letting go of the things I’ve held against him for so long. And I want him to know, long after I’m gone, that I forgave him in the end. I resolve to start working on that in the morning.

As for a family, yes, it’s too late for me to have children of my own or to adopt or anything along those lines. But I already have a family, don’t I? I’ve had one for years. When you’re a nurse who works with kids, you form a special kind of attachment. You see them on a regular basis, and you grow to care about them. It’s not the same thing as being a parent, of course, but there are ways in which it’s close. And maybe I need to acknowledge that I’m fortunate to be surrounded by kids I love each day. Love is supposed to be selfless, isn’t it? Maybe as long as I’m making a difference in the lives of kids I care about, that should be enough.

Finally, falling in love. It’s already happened, hasn’t it? Each interaction with Jamie has deepened my feelings for him, and although I know full well that there won’t be time for those feelings to be reciprocated, it doesn’t make them less real. And maybe love is, at its core, about opening your heart to another person as opposed to taking their love for yourself. Maybe reciprocated love is just a nice bonus. Over the course of a long life together, I think love is a cycle—the way it is for Darrell and Sheila, and the way it was for Merel and Ernestine—and it requires reciprocation to keep it going. But at the beginning, maybe love is something different altogether, something selfless and pure.

And maybe that means I’ve already found what I’m looking for. I resolve to stop holding myself back with Jamie. I know by now that once my repeated todays are over, I’ll have to steer clear of him, because I can’t start a relationship with him in real time without hurting him. But for now, perhaps I just need to open my heart and stop coming up with reasons why I shouldn’t be falling for him or why I don’t deserve the kind of love other people have.

It’s just a shame I didn’t learn that lesson sooner. Love is about an open heart, and it’s only now—when my remaining heartbeats are numbered—that I’m realizing I’ve been doing it wrong all along.

I
HEAD TO the hospital earlier than usual when I wake up in the morning, and Logan looks up in surprise when I enter. He’s just barely awake, and I know he hasn’t even had his breakfast yet.

“Come on,” I say. “I’m breaking you out for the day.”

He smiles. “You don’t have to do that, Jill. Going out and seeing the world really isn’t on my bucket list.”

“I know. But becoming a teenager is. I figure it’s time to celebrate your next birthday.”

He looks confused. “My next birthday?”

“Sure. Happy eleventh!”

“But I’m ten.”

“Are you? Because the way I figure it, you bypassed ten a long time ago. So come on. It’s time for your party.”

“My . . . party?”

“It’s the best I can do on short notice, and sorry kiddo, but a repeated today is always going to be short notice. So are you going to make me stand here and beg? Or are you going to come with me before someone spots us making our escape?”

He still looks confused, but he laughs and nods. “Just give me a second to get dressed.”

I wait for him in the hallway, and a few minutes later, he emerges in jeans, sneakers and a faded T-shirt. “Okay,” he says. “Where are we going?”

“Hold your horses and you’ll find out.”

We avoid the nursing station—I already called in sick for the day—and head down to the ground floor. After we’ve stopped and asked the tree for one day more, I spot Jamie coming through the front entrance with dozens of balloons. I can’t help but laugh; he gets stuck twice on the way in the door because some of the balloons are caught outside.

I hurry over to help him, and with Logan grabbing a few of the lower balloons and me pulling the strings of a few of the outliers, we manage to get Jamie into the lobby.

“Thank you so much!” he exclaims, flustered, as he tries to rearrange the balloon cluster, pulling them down and adjusting the strings that have lengthened as the balloons tried to make their escape.

“You looked like you were struggling,” I say.

“Understatement of the year.” He pauses and looks more closely at me. “Have we met before?”

“Not exactly.” I reach out for a handshake. “I’m Jill.”

“Jamie,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine.

“And this is Logan. It’s his eleventh birthday, and I’m breaking him out of the hospital.”

Jamie raises his eyebrows. “Breaking him out, huh? Sounds dangerous.”

I smile. “I think sometimes in life, we have to take risks, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” he says softly. He holds my gaze for a few more seconds before turning to Logan. “So, eleven? That’s pretty old.”

“I’m actually way older than that,” Logan replies seriously.

Jamie laughs. “An old soul, I see.”

“No. Just old,” Logan says.

Jamie gives me a questioning look, but I shake my head. He smiles and grabs several balloons from his giant cluster. “Here,” he says, handing them to Logan. “Every birthday deserves balloons.”

“But they’re someone else’s, aren’t they?” Logan asks.

“They’re yours now. So where are you off to?”

Logan shrugs. “She won’t tell me.”

“Because if I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?” I ask Logan.

Jamie laughs. “Well, wherever the two of you are going, I hope you have a blast.” He pauses and looks at me for a long moment. “I hope I see you again. So you can tell me all about the birthday fun, I mean.”

“Oh, you’ll see me again,” I promise. And with that, I grab Logan’s hand and we head out into the sunlit morning.

A half hour later, Logan is jumping up and down in excitement as we pull into the parking lot of Six Flags Over Georgia, just west of Atlanta.

“I’ve always wanted to go here!” he says as he bounds out of the car. “How did you know?”

“Roller coasters and superhero rides? Hmm, how could I have ever predicted that a ten-year-old would like these things?”

“Eleven,” Logan corrects with a grin.

“Of course! I forgot that it’s your birthday.” I turn and dig around in the backseat for a moment until I find the cooler I filled up this morning. I pull two cupcakes from it, stick a candle in one and light it with my back still to Logan. When I turn back around, smiling, with a cupcake in each hand, his eyes light up. “Oh wait, I didn’t actually forget at all,” I say.

He laughs and reaches for his cupcake, but I pull back.

“Remember to make a wish,” I say sternly and finally hand it over.

He closes his eyes for a moment and then blows his candle out.

“What did you wish for?” I ask.

“I can’t tell you, or it won’t come true.”

We make it into the park just after it opens for the day, and we spend the next several hours racing from ride to ride, trying to pack in as much fun as we can before Logan gets overtired. We ride the Superman and Batman coasters first, followed by the Acrophobia free fall tower and the Sky Coaster, which is a skydiving-like experience that leaves Logan giggling but makes me want to throw up. We eat a late lunch at the food court, then we take a walk around the park before going on Batman once again and ending our day with the Great American Scream Machine, a classic wooden coaster.

As we walk back to my car, exhausted but happy, Logan slips an arm around my waist and leans into my shoulder. I put my arm around him as I’m hit with a wave of tenderness. “Did you have a good day, buddy?”

“The best, Jill,” he says. “Seriously. This is the best eleventh birthday in the history of mankind.”

“Good. You deserve it.”

By the time we get back to the hospital, with Logan carrying the three balloons Jamie gave him this morning as well as the Daffy Duck stuffed animal that he got at the park, I’m a little nervous about sneaking him back in. Surely one of the nurses on the floor noticed he was missing and raised the alarm. But oddly, there’s little movement on the floor, and as he makes his way back to his room, no one bats an eye.

“See, I’m invisible around here,” Logan says with a wan smile, apparently reading my mind as he climbs into bed.

“You’re not invisible to me.”

“But you’re different, Jill. You always have been.” He yawns and covers his mouth. “This was really the best day ever.”

I sit with him until he falls asleep, watching his chest rise and fall in easy rhythm. There’s a smile on his face, and without his wise-beyond-his-years words, he looks younger than ten. I don’t realize I’m crying until a teardrop lands on my shirt. “I love you, kiddo,” I murmur. “I wish we had more time.”

T
HE NEXT MORNING, I swing by the grocery store on the way to the hospital, and I’m waiting in the lobby, beneath the tree, when Jamie enters with his enormous cluster of balloons. I watch him fumble through the front doorway, shake his head at himself, and then begin heading toward the elevator. But when he sees me, he stops dead in his tracks, stares for a second, and begins laughing.

“I had no idea I’d be so on-trend today,” he says, gesturing to the cluster of fifteen helium balloons I’m holding.

“You are indeed on the cutting edge of style.” I grin at him.

“Dare I ask what
your
balloons are for?”

I stand up and extend my hand for an awkward shake, which involves the juggling of balloon strings on both our parts. “I’m Jill. I work on the oncology floor, and I heard a rumor that you were throwing a party for one of the kids on the cardiology floor today. I have a favor to ask.”

“I’m Jamie, and the rumors are true,” he says. “As for the favor, how can I refuse a pretty girl who looks like she’s about to float away?”

I feel heat rising to my cheeks. We’re already flirting comfortably, which both rattles and warms me. “I have a patient who’s turning twelve today. How would you feel about him joining your party?”