Weathered Love

TRANSPLANT

"I know what you've been up to," Ivan accused as we found ourselves, once again, in his basement studio. I tried to give him an innocent look. I had kept a few things secret from him, so I wasn't sure what he was referring to, but I wasn't about to give him any indication that there was anything amiss.

"What do you mean?" I sought clarification.

"When is the surgery?" he questioned. I huffed. I would have rather he found out about the two dates I'd had with Damian.

"In a week," I admitted.

"And what were you going to tell me when you suddenly dropped of the face of the planet? Or were you planning on ghosting me again?" he accused.

"I wasn't going to ghost you," I sourly replied. "It's not like I'll be gone for that long. Just a week or so," I stated.

"I want to visit you," Ivan stated. "Does Zee know?"

"I haven't told her, and it's completely anonymous, so don't you dare tell her," I threatened.

"Does your family know?" Ivan continued his line of questioning.

"I should probably tell them," I mused. "I'm sure they'll notice I've been gone a while."

"You think?" Ivan sarcastically commented. "Can we do a video from the hospital?" he joked.

"Ugh, I forgot about that. Maybe we can record an extra video before I go so that you can post it on the Friday I'm gone?" I suggested.

"That is quite a straightforward solution," Ivan haughtily commented. He then picked up his guitar and commenced strumming and humming.

"You've stopped teaching me how to play," I pointed out.

"You've stopped asking me to teach you" he retorted. I sighed, then looked longingly at his guitar. "Fine," he huffed, motioning me over. I happily walked to his stool and pulled the guitar strap over my head. Ivan was initially standing in front of me, trying to teach me the chords, but after a while, got a little frustrated and ended up positioning himself behind me so that he could properly show me the proper way of holding my fingers against the strings and the right way to strum with my other hand. At least there was no risk of my dropping his guitar since the shoulder strap was on.

I nervously laughed when he tried to teach me a particular chord and he jumped back. "Sorry," I apologized. "You need a shave. You tickled me," I accused. Ivan sighed, rolled his eyes, and continued to attempt to teach me some chords on his guitar.

* * *

It was the day before my surgery and I was extremely nervous. I hadn't eaten in two days due to my nerves, and was trying to justify my lack of appetite over the fact that I was going to have surgery. The truth was, however, that I simply was a wreck over all the possible things that could go wrong.

I drove to my local church, which I hadn't visited in a year, and decided to take up a pew to pray. Or ponder. Or do something besides freak out over what I was about to do.

"Ivy," I heard a vaguely familiar voice call out. I turned around to see our priest standing next to my pew and beaming at me. In a year, he'd already gotten grayer and thinner. I worried about him. "It's been a while," he commented, coming to sit next to me. I noticed the flash of concern in his eyes, but I chalked it up to nerves, and forced my heart to slow down.

"Yeah," I admitted. "I've been at school in California," I filled in.

"I hope it's treating you well," he commented. I nodded. "So, what brings you here today?" he questioned.

"Mackenzie," I stated. He'd heard about Mackenzie from me multiple times before, mostly my concerns over her health. Even though she attended a different church, my priest was well-versed in my concerns for her.