One
Silas
Walking across the room too many times in a row has me holding my chest and struggling to inhale my next breath. Lightheaded and dizzy, I grab onto the corner of the bed and carry my weight to the nearby wooden chest. Men in their twenties shouldn’t feel this way. Walking around your own house isn’t supposed to be a daily challenge, but it’s become one over the last two months. I’m dying. Stacey hates hearing me speak the words out loud but it isn’t something we can turn a blind eye to anymore.
My heart is failing me and I’m no closer to the top of the donor list than I was six months ago. How am I to remain hopeful when everywhere I turn leads to a dead end?
Leaning forward, I spread my legs, pressing my hands to my knees, trying to catch my breath. I wanted to surprise my wife of four years with a romantic night in for our anniversary. Lit candles, rose petals on the bed, and something like Marvin Gaye playing in the background. As cheesy as it sounds, Stacey gobbles that shit up like a kid in a candy store.
Burning and feeling like it’s closing up, my chest feels smaller than before. I slow my breaths, shutting my eyes and thinking of a time I was calm and happy. I’m in the water at age sixteen after making my high school swim team, my arms hitting the waves in long, strong strokes. I was able to separate myself from the rest of the world when I was under water. My illness didn’t exist. All my meds didn’t exist. Nothing bad did.
Distractions help sometimes. Desperation and panic lessens inside me, relaxing me enough to slow my heart rate down. I overexerted myself today. It’s not hard to do. I hate this. Rocking sideways, I slowly get to my feet and keep my hand on the bed as I walk around the room. Gripping onto the top blanket keeps me steady for only so long before I lose my balance again. Too weak to hold myself up any longer or reach for anything around me, I crash to the ground, my body hitting the wood floor with a hard thud. Fuck.
Is this it? Will this be the day my heart gives up? Will this be the day I do? I’m getting tired of fighting with all I have only to repeatedly end up back here. Weak and helpless.
The front door to the house opens and closes, followed by Stacey shouting, “I’m home! I hope I’m not accidentally walking into something I’m not supposed to see yet.”
With my breathing still ragged, I can’t get any of my words out louder than a whisper. “Not. Yet,” I say too quietly.
“Silas?” Stacey calls from the living room, her tone going from light to strained.
I roll from my side to my stomach, my attempts to crawl forward failing me as I flail like a fish out of water against the floor. Tears spring to my eyes from frustration. This isn’t what I had in mind for our future. I can’t be a good father like this. I can’t even be a decent husband. Why does she stay? Most wouldn’t. Does she feel obligated to be in my life like everyone else does?
“Poor Si, needs people more than ever right now,” the whispers at work, parties, and family gatherings always say.
“Yes. Poor, poor me.”
What about Stacey? She gets to suffer right along with me. Have all her plans delayed. No traveling because she refuses to see the world without me. Saying no to her promotion at work in case the longer hours prevent her from taking me to my appointments and keep her from reaching me in time whenever I have a bad episode.
“Silas!” Panic rises in her voice and pounding footsteps approach the room. Lying on the floor, fighting to keep my eyes open, I look toward the empty doorway, waiting for Stacey to appear. How many more times is she going to be able to handle finding me this way? Next time I might not be breathing at all.
Growing too heavy, my eyes close, and Stacey cries out before dropping beside me. “I’m here, baby. Please stay with me.” Her fingers press to my neck and she finds my pulse. “Just keep breathing.”
Grabbing my hand, she presses it to her chest. “To help remind your heart of what it needs to do.”
Another voice fills the room and Stacey responds to the woman, explaining what happened, giving our address and telling her to hurry. As the 911 dispatcher tells her someone’s on their way, I slip further away from the room and her sobs grow distant.
“Please, don’t leave me.”
The thought of not seeing her again is a hard pill to swallow, but if I don’t come back, not only will I be free from all the suffering and pain, so will she.
My eyes blink open, adjusting to the bright room.
“I think the sun is bothering him,” someone says. “Close the blinds.” They speak again, and a hand squeezes mine while another lifts the blankets higher on my chest.
My mom and Stacey come into view, smiling down at me, both looking like they haven’t slept in days, with heavy bags under their eyes.
“Welcome back, lover,” Stacey says, tangling her fingers with mine and scooting her chair closer. I cringe. I hate when she calls me that. I’ve made a lot of exceptions over the years and there are some I’m considering going back on in this moment of extreme pain—starting with that awful endearment.
“Hi.” It’s all I can get out of my raw, dry, itchy throat. I sound as bad as I feel.
“Here, sweetheart. Drink this and don’t talk if it hurts too much.” My mom places a straw to my mouth and I wrap my lips around it, slurping back the cool water. It’s heaven on my tongue and throat. She continues holding the small pink pitcher until I stop drinking and turn my face away from it.
“All done?”
I nod and she sets the pitcher on the bedside table, never fully averting her attention from me. “Are you hungry? I think they have a tray coming soon.”
“No.” Short answers are easier. Hopefully soon I can upgrade to more syllables.
“Good, cause it’s not very appetizing anyway. Broth, Sprite, and orange jello.”
My nose curls. “My favorites,” I reply, barely louder than a whisper. Good ol’ hospital food never disappoints. All I’m missing are the sugar-free popsicles.
“I thought as much. I can’t wait to be able to take you home and recreate this whole experience for you there. No pasta or burgers for a while. No Twinkies or hot Cheetos either.”
“You’re really hitting me where it hurts today.” Each word feels like it’s cutting me from the inside. Fuck, I hate being so limited. My snark and sarcasm are all I have to keep my spirits up, and now I can’t have them either.
She laughs and ruffles my hair. “Oh, my love. Better to get it all out at once than to spread it out and make it last longer.”
“True. You don’t work today?” As painful as it is to keep the conversation going, I’m not ready for it to stop. It helps me feel more equal to her and like I still have something to offer.
She shakes her head, frowning. “I called in again but Landon didn’t sound too happy about it.” Sighing, her fingers rake through my hair. “I’ll make it up to him by picking up an extra shift this weekend or something.”
“You’re going to lose your job. You love working there.”
“Eh.” She waves her other hand around, looking away from mine. “It’s only temporary anyway. Once our debt is paid off, I can go back down to one job.” Cutting hours at the flower shop has really put us more behind on medical expenses, forcing Stacey to pick up the slack while also trying to care for me. She deserves better. I can’t give her that anymore.
“Baby—”
“It’s fine. He knows you’re sick. I can’t just leave you. What if . . .” She takes a deep breath and tries again. “I don’t want to regret missing anything important.”
In other words she doesn’t want me to die while she’s gone. “You won’t miss anything. I’ll be right here after every shift with jello in my teeth for you to help me brush out.”
She laughs and the sound offers me some comfort. “I might accept another part-time job and then I won’t have to worry about Landon anymore. The hours will be more flexible too.”
My chest caves. I hate that she has to have a part-time job at all. She barely gets free time as it is working at the hospital four nights a week. “If I get a new heart, I’m going to finally take care of you for a change.”
“You already do. In ways money can’t.”
Too bad it isn’t enough. I’ll need a better plan soon. I refuse to leave the woman who’s stood by me all this time with nothing.