FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER
They set Jonah up in a private room, steps from the elevator, the chapel, vending machines and the restrooms. The circle of his friends and family—The Seven, I called us—had access to everything we needed, allowing us to camp out in the waiting room.
No one left for longer than a few hours at a time, and checked back in via text every few minutes:
Is he okay?
Any news on a donor?
What does the doctor say?
The answers stayed the same for the first twenty-four hours: Jonah was resting, no news of a donor heart and the doctor said he wasn’t likely to get one.
Jonah’s kidneys—ravaged from the medications—were failing and he was put on dialysis, which made him all but ineligible for a second heart transplant.
“If you’d let me give him one of mine…” Theo said. He looked terrible—dark rings under bloodshot eyes. He hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks.
“It wouldn’t have helped,” Dr. Morrison said. “His antibody count has always been much too high. The CAV too relentless.”
“So they just took him off the list? ”
“Not at all,” Dr. Morrison said. “Jonah was never removed from the donor list. But if a new heart were available, we would have heard already. I’m so sorry.”
He turned to address the Seven. “Right now, the best thing for Jonah is to remain comfortable and spend time with you.”
“He’s not in pain, is he?” Henry asked.
“No,” Dr. Morrison said gently. “And I will do everything in my power to ensure he stays that way. I promise.”
Over the next two days, we crowded into his room, talking and reminiscing. Laughing at his bedside and stepping out to cry in the hallway. By the third day, when Jonah was struggling through the minutes, some instinctive realization took hold of the group.
It was time to say goodbye.
Tania, Oscar and Dena took turns alone in his room. Then the Seven became Four: the Fletchers and me.
“How are you?” I asked Theo. We slouched on chairs in the waiting area while Henry and Beverly sat with Jonah.
“My brother’s dying and there’s not a goddamn thing I can do about it. That’s how I am.”
I stared at my hands through a beat of silence.
“How are you?” he asked.
“I can’t really sit over here by myself anymore,” I said. “Can I…hold your hand?”
Theo moved to sit beside me. His large, strong hand engulfed mine. I studied the tattoos that snaked around his forearms.
“Your designs?”
“Some.”
“What drew you to tattooing?” My voice sounded like I’d been screaming for hours—tear-soaked and hoarse.
“Permanence,” Theo said. “Tattoo is art that bites deep. Leaves blood. Can never be washed away. It stays.” He looked down at me with his whiskey-colored eyes. “You stayed.”
I smiled. “I want a tattoo from you.”
“Name it.”
“Not sure yet. I’ll think about it.”
He nodded and we waited, hand in hand. The Fletchers came out then—Beverly looking frail and delicate, Henry ramrod straight, stoic and stiff—his grief boiling below the surface.
“Theo, dear,” Beverly said in a tremulous voice. “He wants you.”
Theo went in, and I sat wedged between the Fletchers, holding her hand, resting my head against his shoulder. They weren’t my parents, but I loved them. And I felt loved by them in a way I never had from my own. Even Henry’s reserved affection was a million times warmer than my father’s.
I hadn’t thought of him since San Diego. Or my mother. They’d never met Jonah, and now they never would.
Their loss, I thought bitterly, but in the next instant that bitterness morphed into fierce pride, and even joy. I had known Jonah Fletcher. I had been loved by him, and it was a privilege I would carry with me for the rest of my life.
Theo emerged, looking bewildered. He gave me a strange look I couldn’t define, then said, “He’s asking for you.”
Jonah lay on the hospital bed, reclined as he had in his chair in his apartment.
A nasal cannula ran beneath his nose, delivering oxygen, but his breathing was erratic.
He took little sips of air, his chest jerking instead of rising and falling.
His dark eyes were stark against his pale face.
His thick silken hair now thin and brittle.
Tubes and wires ran into his right arm, held there with white tape.
The dialysis machine churned continuously from beside the bed.
Another monitored his heart. I didn’t understand the blood pressure numbers but the jumping, electric tick of his pulse monitor sounded fast and agitated in my ears.
“You sent for me?” I said, as I sank into the chair next to the bed. I leaned my elbows on the mattress and took his hand in mine.
“I’m extracting promises,” he said, between short, shallow breaths. “No one…can refuse a guy…in my position.”
I tried to find a clever comeback, but I had none. Only the howling wish he was in any other position than this one.
“Do you want anything?” I asked. “Anything at all.”
“No, Kace. Just you. Here with me.”
I nodded. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
He smiled with a weak twitch of his lips. “And that promise.”
“What is it?”
“Promise me,” Jonah said. His voice was weak and soft, but a desperate intensity wreathed his gaze.
“What, baby…?”
“Love again.”
I stared a moment, then shook my head.
He fought to get a breath in. “There’s more to you than us, Kace. Please…don’t hold yourself back. You have too much to give. So much love, Kacey…So much.”
My chest tightened. “I can’t even think about it right now, Jonah…”
“In time,” he said. “Promise me. If you find someone…”
“Never.”
His fingers wove with mine. “No. You will. Love him. Love him with everything. Like you loved me. Love him more .” His eyes closed. “I’m so happy, Kace. Never like this in my life. It’s…a gift. You know?”
I ran the backs of my fingers along his face. “I know.”
His eyes opened slowly. “Make someone else…feel like I do right now. Okay? Promise.”
I wanted to shake my head and tell him I couldn’t do it. Could never do it. I would never again feel for anyone what I felt for him.
“I love you, Kace,” he said in between shallow little hiccups of air. “I love you so much. Promise…”
“I love you, Jonah. And… Okay. Yes. I promise.” Te ars spilled over my cheeks as I nodded. “I promise.”
His eyes closed again. His body settled back into the pillows and his next inhale seemed smooth, the exhale relieved. The corners of his mouth lifted, then stretched further. He smiled. He was beautiful then. Peaceful. Serene.
“I need to tell you something,” I said. “I know you’re tired. Just rest and listen.”
Still smiling, he nodded. “Still here.”
“I love you,” I said. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me. I wouldn’t give back one second of our time together. Not one.”
“Kace…” he breathed. His hand in mine shook, trying to rise. I brought it up for him and pressed my cheek into his palm. His fingertips rubbed slowly in my hair.
“My heart’s breaking,” I said. “And I’m so happy. You make me so happy. Your love’s made me strong. You’ve made me a better person…” Sobs like little knives in my throat, words trying to dodge around them. “Being loved by you, Jonah…it’s the greatest honor of my life.”
He gazed at me, the tears spilling down his pale face. “God, you… So beautiful,” he whispered. “So beautiful. Don’t want to stop looking at you…but…tired.”
“Sleep,” I said, drawing the edge of the sheet up. “I’ll be here when you wake up. I’ll be here the whole time.”
I bent over him, kissed his lips gently, and held his face in my hands. “I love you.”
“I love you, Kace. Love you…” His eyes closed, and within a minute, he slept.
I rested my aching head on the bed beside him, exhausted beyond anything I had ever known. Wrung out and empty of everything. No joy, no pain, no hope and no regret.
I’d left no word unspoken.
My head by Jonah’s hip, I sank into sleep, where I dreamed I was floating in a sea of glass. Suspended and weightless, beauty surrounding me in ribbons of color and swirls of light. Quiet. Peaceful.
Happy.