CHAPTER 29
HOLLY
Luckily, the surgery doesn’t require me to have working-order hands because I’m pretty sure Ben is crushing my finger bones.
“Ben.”
He doesn’t look down at me as we make our way through the parking garage, and the distance between us is starting to scare me.
When he showed up at Pops’s house this morning, all he gave me was a kiss on the cheek and a tight smile. I spent the whole drive over trying to figure out how to explain all the thinking I’d been doing. How to apologize for letting the issues in my past affect how I see him. You’d think, after having a week to work it all out, I would’ve found the right words at some point. But, whenever I went to open my mouth, nothing came out.
Ben just stared out the window, his knee bouncing and his hand scratching the back of his neck. So, the car ride was silent.
Now, his eyes are distant, as if watching a scene playing only for him.
This can’t be how we go into this thing.
I stop walking, digging my heels into the concrete. When Ben reaches the end of our arm lengths, I hold him in place, and he stumbles to a stop, glancing around, confused, like he’s waking up from a heavy dream.
“What—Holly, what’s wrong?”
“You looked like you were going catatonic on me. Also”—I raise our joined hands and see my fingers have started turning white—“this has morphed from a reassuring hold to a ninja death grip.”
His hold immediately loosens, and he looks ashamed as he massages my digits back to life. “God, I’m sorry.”
“Name’s Holly. You must really be out of it.” My lame joke earns me the barest hint of a smile. But I’ll take it. We’re alone in the garage at the moment, so I step in close to Ben, crowding him before his mind can retreat again.
“Kiss me.” It’s been so long, and if I can’t explain what’s changed in my mind, maybe I can show him.
“What?”
When I see the shock on his face, I realize something.
Ben thought we were over.
I can’t blame him. The only message I sent him since he stormed out of my dad’s house was a quick, Merry Christmas. Why wouldn’t he think I decided to end things permanently?
Clearly, I need to correct him.
“Here. Like this.” My hands slide up his chest to wrap around his neck. I rise up on my toes, pressing my body fully against his as I draw his mouth down to mine.
Then, I ravish him.
The kiss is heady and passionate. I show him how far we are from being over by worshipping him with my lips.
With an agonized groan, his hands dig into my backside, so he can pull me closer.
I missed the feel of him. Solid, warm, and comforting but also maddeningly intoxicating. My head fills with thoughts of his mouth all over me. Every inch of my skin tingles and tightens, begging for his attention. One thought slips through the haze, crystalizing until it’s as solid as a diamond in my mind.
I need Ben.
Not just right now. But always. Whatever happens today, whatever pain I might experience, it will be nothing compared to the agony of not having this man in my life.
A car honking the level below us ends our frantic mauling of each other. At some point, Ben backed me up against one of the support columns. The cement’s chill begins to work its way through my coat.
He rests his forehead on mine while working to calm his labored breathing.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, tracing my fingertips over his cheekbones and down his chin.
“Me, too.” Ben leans in for another swift kiss before backing away. He grabs my hand again, but this time, he’s careful not to crush anything.
There’s still a strained element to his smile, but with what we’re walking into, it’s the best I can hope for.
I take the lead, tugging Ben along after me. It’s not long before we’re walking through the sliding glass doors into the hospital, and some helpful nurses direct us to the proper waiting area.
Mr. and Mrs. Gerhard are already seated. His mom jumps out of her chair when she sees us, and the older Benjamin follows close behind. My family, on the other hand, takes a more relaxed approach. Pops and Marcus stay sitting and simply wave at me, knowing I’ll make it over to them in a moment.
“Holly! How are you? Thank you so much for the flowers, but you didn’t have to do that. I’m the one who needs to apologize.” Mrs. Gerhard wrings her hands as she stands in front of me.
After my freak-out-fest at Ben’s parents’ house, the guilt of having shouted curses at them was giving me heartburn. So, I sent them a bouquet of daisies with a note telling them how mortified I was.
“It was a bad moment. I think we can just forget it and move on.”
“Still, I’m very sorry. And how are you feeling today? Both of you doing all right?” Mrs. Gerhard runs her eyes over us, probably ready to have a conniption if there’s even a paper cut visible.
“We’re fine, Mom. You’re going to need to calm down. You can’t keep up this level of frantic for the next however many hours.”
We both told our family members that they didn’t have to show up at the appointment time. There’s checking in, then surgery prep, and then the actual surgery, which normally takes a few hours. So, they could easily be sitting here for close to an entire workday. Showing up in time for the recovery process would’ve been fine.
All of them chose to ignore us.
After checking in, I make sure to introduce Pops to Ben’s parents. When they start telling my dad how he raised a “miracle for a daughter,” I hide my blushing face in Ben’s chest. His hand cups the back of my head, and I enjoy the rumble of his laughter at my embarrassment. The familiar, spicy pine scent of Ben’s soap helps to ease some of my nerves. If only I could stay here forever.
But, a short ten minutes later, Ben and I are called back. I try to ignore the fact that Mrs. Gerhard is crying as I give my brother and father quick hugs.
“Next time you see me, I’ll be anesthetized, so it’s your job to make sure I don’t say anything crazy.”
They both smile with affection, and Marcus musses my hair.
“See you soon, sis.”
“You ready, Holly?” Ben stands beside me, reaching out his hand.
I know, when I walk through those doors, I’ll be putting myself in a dangerous situation. There are the needles that terrify me, but more than that, there’s the surgery. It isn’t an uncommon procedure, and the newer laparoscopic technique means I’ll only be getting three small incisions instead of one large one. But it’s still surgery. I’ll be under anesthesia for the first time, trusting these people to keep me alive as they remove one of my organs.
To cover my fear, I paste on an overly enthusiastic grin.
“You bet I am.” I grab Ben’s hand and march us forward. “Let’s get you a kidney!”
After I’m prepped for surgery, I get to see Holly one last time.
They wheel my bed out into a wide hallway, arranging the foot of mine against hers, so we face each other. Like me, Holly has on a pale blue hospital gown and a surgical hat that looks like something you’d wear in the shower to keep your hair dry.
And there’s a needle in her arm.
“How are you doing?” My voice comes out strained.
She looks small, barely taking up any room on her bed.
Why haven’t I ever noticed how tiny she is before?
There’s no way her kidney can be big enough for me.
How can these idiot doctors think it’s okay to cut into such a delicate body?
“I’m good. Ready to go.”
“Even with the—”
She cuts me off with a firm shake of her head. “Let’s not talk about what might or might not be sticking in my arms right now.” I watch her breathe in deep and then slowly let the air out. “Besides, I’ve been practicing.”
“Practicing?”
“Yeah. I’ve been visualizing it happening. Working on meditating during it. Watched a bunch of YouTube videos just to get used to the sight of it in a neutral setting. Even practiced holding some needles that Dr. Williams gave me. It’s helped.” Her triumphant smile shines out, glorious in this depressing setting.
Still, this situation is freaking me out.
Like she can read my mind, Holly turns my question around on me. “What about you?”
Me?
I’m lucky they haven’t hooked me up to a heart rate monitor yet because that shit would be going haywire, screaming warning bells like there’s a fire. I’m ready to rip my IV out, followed by hers, throw her over my shoulder, and sprint out of this white-tiled nightmare.
But I shouldn’t tell her any of that. She needs me to be strong for her.
To tell her everything is going to be fine.
Right?
The second I open my mouth to give Holly some bullshit answer, I meet her soft brown eyes, wide open and honest. And I realize she’s not asking me to comfort her. She just wants to know the truth.
And I remember my promises—that I wouldn’t lie anymore, that I’d tell her everything.
Time to put up or shut up.
“I’m fucking terrified.” I cringe. “Sorry! I meant, flipping. I’m flipping terrified.”
Instead of glaring at me for my slip, an adorable smile wrinkles her nose. “Don’t apologize.” She bites her lip and then admits, “I’m flipping terrified, too.” Before I can tell her to back out then, she gets a determined expression on her face. “I have no control. That freaks me out. But I don’t need to control something for it to turn out all right. I can let go, and things will still be okay in the end.” Holly beams at me now, the sight so beautiful that I can barely think. “It’s just like one of your surprise adventures.”
I don’t have time to respond because a set of nurses walks through the double doors behind her bed.
“Time to get you two set up. Let’s go.”
I’m still struggling for words as we’re rolled into a large room filled with everything needed to take out Holly’s kidney and put it in me. The team is efficient, hooking up all the wires and wrapping blood pressure cuffs around our arms. It’s only when I see one of the medical team members plug a syringe into Holly’s tubing and tell her to count backward from ten that I realize my time is up.
“Ten, nine—”
“Holly!” I’m frantic for her to meet my eyes, but when she turns her head, her pupils don’t really focus on me.
“Eight—”
“I love you!”
Her lids are still half-open, but her mouth has gone slack. She doesn’t say, Seven. She doesn’t say, I love you, too.
Instead, the doctor adjusts her head and fits a breathing tube in her mouth.
“Okay, buddy, I’m gonna need you to count backward from ten.”
I tear my gaze off Holly and meet the eyes of the guy holding the syringe meant to knock me out. Before I can rage at him for not letting me know I lost my last seconds with her, he pushes the plunger down.
They all expect me to follow the rules, rattle off numbers until I pass out.
But I’m busy. Every part of my rapidly fading brain is begging the universe not to take Holly away from me just when I’ve found her.
Head fuzzy. My head is fuzzy.
I blink slow. Real slow.
This room is fuzzy. Those lights are fuzzy.
And bright.
I’m awake.
“Good morning.”
“Holly!”
Did I say that?
“I’m Holly.”
Laugh. Someone is laughing. His face is fuzzy. His teeth are bright.
“Sorry. I’ll shave closer next time, so my face isn’t so fuzzy.”
Oh, good. He knows he’s fuzzy, too.
“How do you feel, little sis?”
His face is near my face.
“You’re Marcus.”
Bright smile again.
“Yes, I am. And you’re Holly. You’re done with your surgery. You’re in the recovery room.”
“Am I sick?”
“No, Holly. You’re not sick.”
“Okay, good.”
“Hey, sweetie.” Another face. Darker but still fuzzy.
“I don’t think she realizes how much she’s actually verbalizing.”
“Pops!”
More laughter. Deep, deep laughter.
“That’s right. Take your time, baby girl.”
“I love you.” I try to reach my hands up to squeeze their fuzzy faces, but my arms are heavy.
“We love you, too.”
“I love Ben, too.”
“You do?”
Neither of the fuzzy faces is speaking.
Who’s talking?
“Oh, sorry, dear. That was just me.”
Ben’s mom. She’s fuzzy, too.
Did they decide to have a fuzzy party, and I wasn’t invited? Or was I invited?
More laughing.
“Ben. I love Ben. Where’s Ben?”
Fuzzy faces frown.
“He’s still in surgery, sweetie.”
“Why? I want him.”
“I’m sure he’ll be out soon.”
“Tell him. Tell him I want him.”
“Okay, Holly. We’ll tell him.”
“Good. That’s good.”
I shift and squirm. This mattress sucks. I hate this mattress. I want my mattress.
“Pops. Pops. Pops.”
“Yes, Holly?”
“I want my mattress.”
“I know, Holly. You’ve been saying that for the last five minutes.”
“Did you tell Ben I want him?”
“Why don’t you rest your throat, Holly? It must be sore from the breathing tube.”
My throat? My throat is sore. My throat is sore.
At some point my thoughts begin to stitch together properly. Everything loses the blurry edging, and I stop blurting out every random string of words that flows across my mind.
That doesn’t change the fact that I want to see Ben. His parents are in my room. I don’t mind, but shouldn’t they be with him?
Why isn’t he in a recovery room like me?
I can’t remember asking anyone how much longer his surgery would be than mine.
My four visitors deal with the time in their own way. Marcus has his sketchbook propped on his knee. No surprise there. Pops reads a book. Likely, it’s some historical biography. He never has been a fan of fiction. Mr. Gerhard has a file open in his lap, but I haven’t seen him flip to a new sheet of paper since I became lucid enough to notice things like that. Mrs. Gerhard has an iPad in her lap, but like her husband, she hasn’t touched it. They watch the clock and the door.
“Pops?”
He uses his finger to mark the page and turns to look at me.
“How long since I’ve been out of surgery?”
He checks his watch. “Close to two hours now.”
Two hours, and the Gerhards are still here. My mind might be stuttering by at a slower rate right now, but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel fear.
If I had my striped notebook, I’d write out a list. That always helps to calm me down. Instead, I try to make one in my head.
When Ben and I are better, we will:
1. Eat delicious food, like croissants and crab fries.
2. Go on more official dates, and I’ll buy him a boutonniere.
3. Visit the cabin and go on a long hike.
4. Find a new reading spot. Maybe in his bed.
5. Do other fun things in his bed.
6. I’ll teach him to play gin rummy and beat him in Monopoly.
7. I’ll get him to draw me beautiful pictures.
I asked him to draw me something, and he never did.
The painting of the red cardinal is hanging in my kitchen, and I love it, but he never drew me a picture like I’d asked.
What if he never gets the chance to?
A memory of Ben creeps into my mind.
I was studying in the library, and he came to sit with me. I thought he was studying, too, with his textbook open and a notebook beside it. My concentration was split, and I covertly watched him. He seemed distracted, his eyes drifting from the moving pencil in his hand to staring absently around the room and then returning again. The whole time, he wore a half-smile.
“What are you thinking about?”
Ben jumped in his seat. I guessed my question had brought him out of some deep thought.
“Oh. Uh, just the book we’re reading.” He grinned at me and leaned over to kiss my forehead before focusing on his textbook for the first time in twenty minutes, the happy, thoughtful expression fading from his face.
That was when I caught a glimpse of his notes, only they weren’t notes at all. On his lined paper was a detailed sketch of two men dueling with swords.
Just like a scene in the book we’d been reading, The Count of Monte Cristo.
Growing up with Marcus, I always thought drawing meant bending over a piece of paper and concentrating on every little detail.
That day, I discovered Ben almost appeared to be daydreaming when he sketched.
I want him to look like that more often. Maybe I could even make him a color-coded schedule like mine. And, like Pops did with me, I could demand Ben pick some time each week to devote to drawing.
He deserves to do something that makes him happy.
Question is, will he get the chance?
Please, let me leave here with Ben.
Panic boils up my throat, searing away the calm from making my list.
“Pops?”
“Hmm?” He glances up from his book again.
“Read to me. Please. I just … I need you to read.”
“Of course, sweetheart. Should I start at the beginning?”
“That’s okay. Wherever you are now is fine.”
My father’s deep, normally soothing voice fills the room. I try to pay attention, but the words don’t make sense to my ears. He doesn’t sound anything like Ben, and that somehow makes my anxiety worse.
A knock interrupts Pops a moment before Dr. Stevens enters. He’s not in the lab coat and business-casual attire of our first meeting. Instead, he has a full set of blue scrubs on and some funny-looking white Crocs-like shoes.
“Ben is out of surgery. He’s in recovery next door. Everything went well. You can see him now.”
The world rocks. And shifts. And settles.
Mrs. Gerhard gasps and sprints from the room, her tablet clattering to the floor. As always, Mr. Gerhard is just a step behind her. Marcus and Pops grin at me.
And I start crying.
The determination that gave steel to my spine isn’t needed anymore. I’m released from the worry and the fear. It all drains out of my eyes as I hiccup and sob. I’m convinced that the drugs are making my reaction over the top because, hard as I try, the flood has been released and can’t be contained.
Marcus slides up on the bed next to me, maneuvering through my wires and tubing so that he can gather me in his arms. And then he rocks me and hums nothing words in my ear, just the way he did when I was younger and woke up from my chaotic nightmares.
Only, now, I’m not terrified. I’m just overwhelmed, and I have no strength left to work through these emotions. So, I cry until his shirt is soaked.
When my sobs die down, I realize Marcus isn’t whispering nonsense to me. It’s a good thing I’ve used up most of my tears because the words he murmurs squeeze my heart until I want to weep all over again.
“You’re my hero, Holly. You’re amazing. You’re so brave. I love you. I love you so much.”