A Heart From Another

Chapter 1: Unwelcomed News

Chapter 1: Unwelcomed News

What did I ever do to deserve this? Does it have to do with the fact that I stole Mom's secret stash of Godiva chocolates last week? I swear that I'll confess, and maybe go to church every once in a while. I'll even donate some money to the orphans in Africa. Just please, please let this be a dream.

I had been mentally pleading this in my head since Doctor Blackwell had left to fetch my mom from the waiting area. Now, I was snapped back to unfortunate reality when my mother's shrill voice echoed from the rundown hall.

"What? No! It can't be true!"

Then came my doctor's voice, deep, rich, and smooth like a strum of a cello, delivering the sentence that would change our lives forever.

"Ma'am. I am so sorry... But, your daughter has..." He lowered his voice so I couldn't hear.

Then came the anguished cry. A loud smack rang throughout the tiny hospital, the sound of a perfectly manicured hand thrown against a rough cheek.

"DON'T YOU DARE SAY THAT! YOU FILTHY, LYING COWARD!"

I fought back a wave of nausea. I didn't want to hear the rest of their conversation. I focused on my surroundings instead. Once I started looking around the examination room, I immediately regretted my decision. The other patients were scrutinizing me, trying to figure out what kind of life-destroying disease I had. Was it cancer? RSA? A blood disease? Their cold, hungry eyes demanded to know. I looked away, down at the dirty, brown carpet as Doctor Blackwell and my mother began to near the room.

I had known mom would react badly, after all, this was exactly what my father had, and any mention of him would cause her to break down in gasping sobs. It used to make me break down too. But after a while, I knew that I had to be strong, not for myself, but for my fragile mother. She had lost the only man she had ever loved. She needed me to be there to support her. Without me, there would be no one to cook dinner, to clean the house, to make sure we didn't get sick. It had been a lot of responsibility but I had managed. I had to. There was no other choice.

"-hospital in Florida. It's the only facility that can treat her properly and at her stage we need to make sure we take careful procedures," Doctor Blackwell's voice informed my mother in a careful but strong tone as they got closer and closer to the room.

"She's in critical condition. We just barely caught it in time. Ma'am, if we don't treat it as soon as possible, she could... Die."

My breath caught in my throat. My heart began to beat harder and harder, my vision began to get blurrier and blurrier. Oh no... I began to take slow, deep breaths like the doctor had told me to. I couldn't black out here. Anywhere but here. I sank to the floor and ducked my head between my knees. In.... Out.... In.... Out.... In....

Soon enough, I could see clearly again. The dizzy spell had passed, but the other patients were staring at me like I was on my deathbed. An elderly woman hobbled over to me.

"You alright, dearie?" She asked in a wavering voice. I nodded slowly.

"You need some help, dearie?"

"No... No. I'm fine," I said firmly. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't bring myself to believe it.

Out in the hallway, my mother was speaking in a much calmer voice. "I see. Colby, Florida. A... Beach town, you say. That will be...refreshing." she sounded a bit dazed. It's not everyday that your only daughter gets diagnosed withhypertrophic obstructive cardiomyopathy, after all. But being dazed was better than being emotionally unstable. Being dazed was better than acknowledging the only person you had left had a heart problem that could kill them. Being dazed was better than acknowledging that you yourself had a heart problem identical to the one your long-gone father had. Being dazed was better than a lot of things.