Sing (Songs of Submission #7)(21)
Author: C.D. Reiss

“I don’t think love should be taken for granted, and I don’t think you should keep on a path of least resistance.”

“This is hardly—“

“Can you say, honestly, that if you were healthy you’d marry her?”

“Yes. But we’d have a proper engagement.” I thought about all Jessica and I had together and I wanted to give it to Monica, but couldn’t. A party, a ring, a wedding. I wanted to see her smiling as she came down the aisle, toward me, that last time before we folded into each other’s lives forever.

Theresa pressed something into my palm. It was hard and scratchy and oddly shaped.

“Give it back when you can buy her her own.”

I lifted my hand, it was her engagement ring, a two carat sapphire cut that was totally Theresa, and utterly wrong for Monica.

“Daniel won’t be happy,” I said.

“He’ll tell himself he cares. But we cancel each other out. We add up to nothing. Trust me when I say, I’d rather break up for the right reasons than get married for the wrong ones.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I can’t explain why I feel okay about it, but I do.”

I held the ring in my fist as if I was afraid to lose it. “Thank you.”

“I’ll try and come back, but you might not see me for awhile.” She kissed my forehead and left, I fell asleep with the ring in my hand.

CHAPTER 23.

MONICA

Jonathan was out of his room. More tests, more prep. More shit piled on top of shit. A hundred thousand checklists to make sure he was worthy of whatever heart came in. Of course it came to me when my mother texted me the address to send the rent check. I quick internet search revealed J. Declan Drazen owned ODRSN Partners.

Anger and gratitude swirled together like a marble cake.

Dr. Thorensen was in his office looking at four computer screens.

“Monica. Come in.” He stood. “Close the door.”

“Thanks. I got your text, but I was driving.”

“Sit.”

He stood in front of a little counter with a sink and poured water into a pot, leaving his screens unattended.

“You’re playing City of Dis aren’t you? Where do you find the time?”

“This job doesn’t afford the time for a dazzling social life so, video games it is. And I have UNOS up on a screen right here.” As if responding to what must have been a baffled look, he continued. “The transplant list.”

“Ah. I heard someone came in…” I didn’t know if I should continue. This was surely privileged information, yet once I started talking I could hardly stop. “He’s brain dead is what I heard. I don’t mean to be creepy, but—”

“I think that’s going to be a no-go.”

“You telling me more or Jonathan getting the heart?”

“Yes.”

I looked into my lap. Margie’s text had given me enough hope to get in the door, and when it dropped out of me, there was nothing to replace it. We were back where we were this morning, only I was one day closer to the end.

“How are you holding up?” Brad asked.

I shrugged. “I guess I’m all right.”

“You’re never home.”

“Doctor, my presence at home is hardly under your purview.”

“I’m not asking as a doctor. I’m asking as your friend. How are you doing?”

“Fine. I feel like I’m waiting for him to either die or be saved, so the regular events of my life aren’t so interesting right now.”

He leaned back in his chair, eyes glowing in the screen’s light. “I’ve lived next door to you for a couple of years.”

“Three, I think.”

“I wish I’d gone to your door with something besides the leaves falling on the car, or the new fence. I should have known you better, sooner.”

His hands were folded over his tie, and his feet pushed his office chair back until the corners of his white lab coat dragged on the floor. Besides the hands, it was an exposed position, and even if he didn’t intend consciously to send the message he did, I understood the meaning in his heart.

“I’m too upset to give you a thoughtful response. I’m sorry.”

“I understand. If you want to go up, he should be back any minute, I think. Irene’s at the desk. Check with her if he’s ok to see. I’m watching this screen.”

I stood up and touched the doorknob. “I’d give him my own heart if I could.”

He sat up straight and put his hand on the mouse. “I hear that all the time.” He glanced up at me, his expression sucking the sarcasm out of the comment. He was just stating the fact. This was hard, and people loved one another.

CHAPTER 24.

MONICA

Police milled around the hallways, radios squawking, belts laden with black leather geometry, swaying hips from the weight of the instrumentation. I leaned on the nurse’s desk, peering to see Irene’s Russian newspaper.

“Hi,” I said. “What are all the cops about?”

“Security.” She waved her meaty hand and shook her head. “You feel safe? I feel safe. Like in middle of street.”

“I’m going in.” I stepped away.

“No, you don’t.” She picked up the phone and hit one of the buttons on the bottom of the keypad. “Wait.”

The person on the other side must have answered, because she muttered something in Russian, listened, then hung up. “Come with me.”

She shuffled from behind the desk, and went toward Jonathan’s room. I didn’t know why I needed her to guide me. My world revolved around that room, and going to and from it. The door was closed. She knocked. A deep, powerful voice that couldn’t have been Jonathan’s at that point, made some sort of affirmative noise. Irene opened the door.

There was one lamp on, a warm one that I hadn’t seen before. And the room smelled nice, like the salty sea and clear water. I located the squat blue candle lit on the windowsill that must have been the source of the scent. A huge, bald man stood by the doorway, one of the regular orderlies who didn’t talk much. His nametag said Gregory. Irene and he babbled something and he babbled back in the same language, and he stepped out of the way.

Jonathan sat on the edge of the bed. I hadn’t seen him actually sit up since the Collector’s Board show, and I must have gasped a little. He wore a jacket over his hospital gown, and pants and shoes. Tubes stuck out of his sleeves and the effort it took for him to sit up was visible once I got over the initial shock.