second dive Jasmin miller

20

Most of them are from better days, when he was still healthy. When his skin didn’t have a gray, sickly tone to it, when he was still at a healthy weight.

  I keep down the small sob that wants to escape as I grab the photo we took a day before he passed away. He was barely coherent anymore, but it was one of those rare moments where he smiled at me, where the recognition and love lit his eyes and turned him into the man who—together with my mom—made me into the person I am today, even if it was only fleeting.

  Somehow, my mom captured that moment. I’d like to believe it was fate. A being at the right place at the right time moment.

  I can’t even remember how many tears I’ve shed over that memory. Over the significance those few seconds allowed me to capture.

  I loved him with all my heart, but he’s always with me. Always has been. He’s the reason I was able to get through the last decade, and also why I’ve reconnected with another piece of my heart.

  No matter how much I miss him every second of every day, I can’t help but smile now each time I think of him. How could I not for the way he enriched my life and still does?

  My fingers are on the go again, rummaging through the eclectic shrine of my past. Pushing aside little knickknacks and random memorabilia, everything from jewelry to spelling bee prizes, until I get to a beige wooden box at the bottom.

  I last opened this box shortly after we moved to San Diego, when I tried to say goodbye to my former life. A farewell to the life before my prognosis and a welcome to the start of my second chance at life when I received my donor heart.

  Holding it now, why does it feel more like a Pandora’s box than anything else?

  Am I really ready to look at these things?

  Do I really want to, knowing what’s inside?

  Deep breath. One, two, three.

  Before I can chicken out, I open the lid, and exhale loudly.

  My eyes are glued to more photos. Some with my family, some with Eadie, but most of them with Noah.

  Kissing, laughing, being silly together.

  Dates, dates, and more dates. Proms. Birthdays. Holidays.

  We did almost everything together.

  My hands dig all the way to the bottom, to the picture I know is waiting for me there.

  You have to tell him the truth. The whole truth. He deserves to know.

  He does.

  Gosh, I know he does.

  But my heart.

  It hurts, and it’s going to hurt even more than it already does.

  Tomorrow. I’ll do it tomorrow.

  I can’t right now when I feel this tender.

  A noise behind me makes me whip my head around, a sharp pain shooting through the bottom of my neck at the quick movement. And then my throat closes at Noah standing there.

  No. No. No.

  Dread fills my body, tightening around my organs with such ferocity that I almost buckle over.

  “What . . . what are you doing here?” My breath whooshes out with my words, both unsteady.

  He pushes his hands into his pockets, a wary expression on his face as he takes in the chaos around me. “Sorry for coming after you, but you told me where the extra key is, and I was worried and wanted to make sure you’re okay.”