Fatal hearts, p.4
Fatal Hearts, page 4
I’m about to agree when I see the sign next to the ride. “NOT SAFE FOR PREGNANT WOMAN… etc.” I go down the list and see “PEOPLE WITH A HEART CONDITION.” Of course, how could I forget? Being with Wes doesn’t change that my heart fails to work like a normal person. I look up at him. I don’t want to tell him so soon. I want some time before all he sees is a sick person before his eyes. I’m so tired of being “that girl.” Wes makes it easy to pretend. I want to keep pretending for a bit longer.
I wait and debate with myself for a minute. If I go on, the chances of anything happening after one ride isn’t too high… I think. I look at Wes who's eagerly awaiting my response.
One ride will be fine, I convince myself.
“I would love to go with you,” I say with a nervous smile. Wes doesn’t notice. He gives his precious dimpled grin, grabs my hand, and pulls us towards the line.
Chapter Eight: The Ride of Your Life
We get to the front of the line and the people before us leave the cart. Wes grabs my hand and leads me into the cart. As we strap in, I feel my heart rate increase dramatically. I start to panic; this is not a good sign.
“You ready?” Wes says, looking at me with a smile.
I swallow my panic and manage to give a nod and a smile. He takes my hand in his as the ride goes up and I feel my heart flutter. Somehow in the midst of my panic, I can still feel the butterflies for Wes.
We slowly go up. I feel myself tilt back and feel a sense of lightness as if I weigh the same as a paper floating in the sky.
“You will be okay,” I mumble to myself as we approach the top.
“Huh?” Wes asks, leaning in to hear better.
‘It’s nothing.” I say, giving a smile.
We stop briefly and before I can get out the words “is the ride breaking down?” I feel my entire chest lift as we fall. I scream.
Whatever happens next, this is the best feeling in the world.
The ride is over before I know it. We get off and Wes says, “THAT WAS AMAZING!”
I look over and open my mouth to agree, but suddenly everything seems out of focus. Wes is blurry and the ground feels hard to center on. I feel myself tilt as the world fades out. The last word I hear is Wes screaming my name.
I wake in an unfamiliar place. The lights are bright, and I feel something tugging on my arm. My vision is not focused. For a while, I feel myself dip in and out of consciousness until finally things around me clear up.
“Cherry?” I hear a familiar voice say. My mom, my brain registers. “Cherry honey, can you hear me? It's mommy.”
My focus clears even more at this. I haven’t called her mommy in years. I finally fully open my eyes and see my mom crouching over me. I look around. I’m in a private hospital room, hooked to an IV bag. I see my dad in the corner, and he looks up at me when he sees I am fully awake.
“Oh honey, thank God you are awake!” he exclaims and walks over to my side.
I try my hardest to recall what happened but the last thing I remember is Wes and I leaving Cinderella's Castle. I smile a bit at the memory. My mom looks at me confused.
“What happened?” I get out. My voice feels dry.
“Wes brought you in. He said you fainted. After you went on Splash Mountain.'' My mom empathizes the words ``Splash Mountain'' in a stern voice. She's clearly upset.
“What the hell possessed you to get on a roller coaster?!” my dad says, worry lacing over his anger.
Everything comes back to me. “I didn’t want to tell Wes,” I whisper, realizing how ridiculous and dangerous my choice was.
“What?” my mom says.
“I just wanted to be normal for a little bit longer, okay? I’m so sick of having to introduce myself with medical crap. I wanted Wes to form an opinion of me, just me, Cherry, before associating me with sickness.”
My parents soften at this outburst.
“Honey. I know it's hard, believe me I know. However, your health comes first. ALWAYS. We agreed to let you go out with Wes on the condition that he knows about your heart.” my dad says.
“You said I could wait until the second or third date.” I correct him, knowing my excuse is complete BS. A situation, such as going on a roller coaster when I medically can’t handle it, certainly warrants an early delivery of said news.
“You know better, we obviously meant that under the understanding that there was no immediate reason to tell.” my mom says, shaking her head.
“I know. I’m so sorry I worried everyone.”
“We are just glad you are okay.” My dad takes me in his arms, and I give him the best hug I can give while connected to an IV line. When he pulls away, I startle, realizing immediately that Wes was here. That he found out. And that he was now gone.
“Did I mess things up with Wes? Where is he?” I say, rushed. My mom reaches forward and puts a hand on my shoulder to settle me back into my bed.
“He's in the waiting room. We didn’t want to bring him in unless you were okay with it,” she says.
“Oh,” I say. I calm down and stop resisting, settling back and relaxing. For some reason, as little time as I’ve had to know Wes, the idea of losing him gave me extreme panic. I’ve never felt so strongly for someone so quickly. “Where is Winnie?” I ask.
“Winnie is in the playroom next to the waiting room. Wes has his eye on her.” my dad informs me. I warm at the thought that he stayed.
“I’d like to see him,” I say a bit quietly.
“I’ll go get him.” my mom says. She steps out of the room and into the waiting room and my dad pulls up a chair to my bed and sits next to me.
In the minutes that it takes for Wes to come to the room, my brain goes into overdrive. Maybe he stayed to tell me off. What if he never looks at me the same again? What if he hates me because I ruined the date by turning it into an emergency? Or what if he thinks I’m disgusting for lying and not telling him? These thoughts flood and circle my brain up until the moment they are interrupted by Wes’s entrance.
“Oh my god Cherry, you are okay!” Wes exclaims as soon as he steps in, he runs to me and without even thinking about it, wraps his arms around me. At this gesture, the storm inside my head suddenly stops and a sense of relief washes over me. He cannot be too mad if he's hugging me.
I see my mom behind us whisper to my dad, and they both step out. Wes releases his grip on me and pulls back, sitting on the chair my dad vacated.
“Wes, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m so sorry I ruined such a great evening; it was so selfish of me to”
“Cherry,” Wes says, abruptly cutting me off. “Stop apologizing. I’m not mad.”
“You...aren’t?” I stare, confused at him, he has every right to be mad, but he's here, reassuring me, even giving me a hint of his dimpled smile.
“No. I wish you told me, for the sake of your health. I hope you know I would never judge you or look at you differently, but I’m not mad you didn’t. We are pretty new people in each other's lives. I can imagine the anxiety of trying to fit in “hey by the way my heart doesn’t work like yours” into a first date conversation.” he laughs when he says this and grabs my hand. “Cherry, I meant what I said. I like you a lot. That is still true at this moment.”
I am looking right at him, shock all over my face. Everything he just said, perfect. One phrase sticks out. “I would never judge you or look at you differently.” I wonder if my mom mentioned that worry to him, or if it's possible he thought of that himself. I choose not to ask. I want to just focus on the truth of it. I’m still Cherry. Not “Cherry when is your next appointment?” or “Cherry, I’m going to spend all our time asking you ridiculous questions about your medical condition, instead of getting to know you,” or even just “Cherry, why bother, she's dying anyways.” I’m just… “Cherry, the girl he likes enough to stick by even when she colossally screws up by collapsing on the first date.”
“You still like me,” I say this as a statement, but mean it as a question, a need for confirmation.
“I do,” he reassures me.
“So... how about that second date?” I joke, hoping it is not too soon.
“On one condition,” he says. My chest constricts at this, but releases when he speaks again. “You never hide a life-threatening condition that as someone who's out with you alone should really know about from me again,” he says lightly with a laugh.
I’m so relieved by his ability to joke that I start to crack up. He joins and our laughter echoes into the hallway. In the midst of all the crazy, one thought sticks out in my head, things will be okay. For now, they are okay.
Chapter Nine: And a Kiss to Depart
“Arrhythmia.” a familiar voice is saying when I wake from my slumber. It’s a few hours later and Wes left for a shift shortly after our conversation. I wake to see a doctor talking to my parents. A few seconds after I wake, the doctor leaves the room, and my parents shuffle over to me.
My dad sits next to me in a chair that was moved next to my bed and speaks. “So, you had what is called Arrhythmia. In layman’s terms, your heart was overworked, which caused you to basically go into overdrive.”
“Am I going to be okay?” I ask, startled by his terminology “overworked” and “overdrive”.
“Yes. However, this can sometimes cause a stroke in patients, which you have in your medical history, making you at a higher risk. We need to keep an eye on your heart more closely, that means more checkups and you will be on a few new medications that will help keep your heart regulated.”
“Oh,” I say quietly.
“We will need to stay an extra week in Florida because we need your heart to stabilize before we can get on a flight.” he adds.
“Is Disney cut short?” I ask, knowing how irrelevant it is to care about Disney at a time like this. However, I must know. A part of me wonders if it's Disney, or more so who is in Disney that I care about not missing.
“We talked to Make A Wish. You will be missing the rest of the week, we need to stay here for some medical treatments for three days, but you can finish Disney afterward, in our second week. This time though, absolutely no rides.” my dad says sternly.
“Even if a handsome boy asks you to go on one.” my mom adds, slightly teasing me.
“Okay yeah, I think I learned my lesson,” I say, annoyed, but happy I’m not being yelled at.
My mom laughs but stops and says, “I’m serious.”
I give her a thumbs up and check my phone. I instantly go into my messages app to see if Wes has responded. Our last text exchange before I fell asleep was about his competition with his friend at the desk. They were having a positivity competition. Seeing who could stay 100% positive the entire shift. Wes was losing.
I see that he has responded to my last text and followed up with another.
Wes: Ya he said I lost because I complained about the heat, which was ridiculous in my defense, and because I bitched about a woman checking in, again to be fair, she told me “Kids aren’t allowed behind the counter.”
Wes: I can come after my shift if you want some company? I can bring dinner too if it's allowed. I get it if you want to rest though.
I respond to his first text with a laugh reaction, blush at his awkwardness in the second text and look up.
“Is Wes allowed to bring dinner?” I ask.
“No, the hospital wants to monitor your food right now. However, if he wants to visit, he can.” my mom says with a slight smile.
I inwardly squeal and reply to Wes.
Cherry: Strict doctors, so no takeout, but you can still come! Feel free to bring yourself food, I will still be eating, just hospital food. :)
He replies within seconds of my response, and we confirm dinner at 6. I check the time and see that he will be here in an hour.
“Mom?”
My mom looks up from her magazine.
“Can you do my makeup? Maybe fix my hair. I’ve looked like crap since we came. It's a bit too early for Wes to see my before face this often. `` I joke. I wait for her response, hoping she doesn’t make a huge deal, seeing as I usually don’t care about my looks enough to ask. My hope is practically worthless.
“Honeyyyy awwww! You must really like this boy,” she says with extreme excitement and a big smile.
“Mommm” I whine with a blush. Confessing feelings, even in a conversation with my mom… is not easy for me.
We talk and tease each other back and forth while she fixes me up, soon enough there is a knock at the door. My dad, who was reading his book in the corner, opens the door.
“Food delivery for a Cherry Wilson?” the man holding the tray says. My dad takes the tray, thanks the man, and checks the food, to make sure they succumb to my dietary restrictions. Just as he closes the door, someone knocks again. This time it is my nurse, Lindsey.
“Time for more IV fluids!” She goes to my side to replace the antibiotics going through my IV. I wince as she adjusts the IV, it never hurts but the idea of a needle-turned tube wigging in my body is enough to make me uncomfortable.
“Everything okay? Am I hurting you at all?” Lindsey asks with a worried look when she sees me wince. I smile and reassure her I am okay. She is a very nice nurse, and she is new to the job, so she is extra cautious.
I look at the clock and see that it is 6:15. My heart rate picks up. What if he decided not to come? What if he remembered my bare-faced frizzy-haired pale ass self-lying in the hospital bed last time, and just… changed his mind. I sigh. That is probably what happened. I wouldn’t want to stick around either if I were him. Just as my mom opens her mouth to ask what is wrong, she can always sense when I’m sent into a frenzy, there is another knock at the door. My heart flutters... is it, Wes? My dad opens the door to a sweaty, panting Wes. He rushes in and to my side with a McDonald’s bag in his hand.
“Hey, I’m so sorry. The traffic was crazy and then my phone died, so I couldn’t text you. I hope you don’t think I ditched you.” he says with rushed words.
I relax and smile. He seems more nervous than me. Could he really like me this much?
“No, not at all!” I lie, not wanting to give off my anxious side too early.
Wes sits down in the chair my mom vacated when he walked in. “So, what's your dinner?” he asks, pointing to the tray next to me. I look at it, having forgotten it was there, and open it to check.
“Mashed potatoes, peas, and what passes for chicken. All low sodium and low cholesterol.” I answer blandly. I could never eat too differently before, but I’ve had different variations of this meal since I came, aside from breakfast. “What about you?” I add.
“That except an unhealthy version.” he says with a laugh as he pulls out chicken nuggets and fries with a salad.
My parents go down to the cafeteria to let us eat and talk alone.
“You look… really pretty. Especially for someone who's been in a hospital bed for two days.” Wes compliments me, with a small shy smile.
“Well thank you, you look pretty good yourself,” I say. “For someone who just lost to a positivity challenge.” I tease. We laugh and talk for a few minutes.
“Can I get deep for a second?” Wes asks when our bantering dies down.
“Sure,” I say, curious.
“How are you doing? No bullshit. This situation is… a lot.”
I am shocked by the bluntness of his question and think. How am I doing? I’m scared. I think I’m always scared. I think I’m so used to the fear that I’m comfortable in it.
“I am… not okay but it's not a new feeling. It's getting comfortable at this point. That probably makes me sound like a sadist.” I answer.
“No. That makes sense. I don’t like to talk about this much, but I have what is called a generalized anxiety disorder. My body is in fight or flight all the time. I think if that went away, and I was suddenly a calm person it would freak me out.” Wes says. I am surprised by how open he is, but it warms my heart that he is comfortable being open. “That was a lot I know. I don’t usually talk this deeply, especially with people I just met. Something about you makes me feel like I can be real with you.” he says. His cheeks redden as he says this.
“I understand that. I don’t have anxiety, but I have anxiety when certain things are brought up, usually in a medical sense. I’m glad you feel comfortable telling me. If there's anything I can do to lessen your anxiety, especially at times involving me where they may heighten, please let me know, and if I am unintentionally triggering your anxiety, I hope we can have open communication to shut that down.” I say this hoping I’m not being too forward by hypothetically inserting myself in his future.
“That is the best response I think I’ve ever gotten.” Wes says shocked. “Usually, people just laugh and say they have anxiety too or they get uncomfortable and change the subject. No one is responsible for my own mental health, but I feel like simply keeping open honest communication is so helpful and no one ever realizes it. The same goes for you, please let me know if a conversation concerning medical situations ever makes you uncomfortable.” I smile as he says this, and we continue talking about our deepest anxieties and fears. I tell him about the transplant vaguely, and he talks about the social aspect of his anxiety. Before we know it, our food is gone and the door is opening again. My mom comes through it.
“So sorry to interrupt, but visiting hours are coming to an end,” she says, slightly smiling at Wes. “I will give you a chance to get your stuff together and say goodbye.” she steps out again.
As Wes is packing up, he asks when I get out and I let him know I get discharged the day after tomorrow.
“I’d love to do dinner again tomorrow if you are up for it,” he says, momentarily sitting back down in the chair and scooting it closer to me.
“I’d have to ask my parents; however, I would love that.” I smile at him. We sit in silence for a moment, delaying his leave.
He scoots the chair closer and then looks right at me. Suddenly his face is super close to mine. We look into each other's eyes. After a few seconds, I feel myself gravitating towards him, I see he's moving closer to me too. Before I know it, his lips fall onto mine. We are kissing. The butterflies in my stomach feel close to exploding. I’ve never been kissed however my mouth seems to know exactly what to do. Both our eyes are closed, and his lips are soft and for some reason sweet. I want to stay here forever, but before I know it, he pulls away.
