In a Heartbeat

Chapter One

My life has been a series of white curtains and closed doors. Antiseptics have burned my nose to the point where the smell of a hospital is as familiar as the smell of home. There's a checkup every Saturday, then another on Wednesday. I'm a prisoner to medical theories and tests, locked in the cycle of forced smiles and worried eyes. That tends to happen when a young person is dying. 

"We're going to start your x-ray now, so don't move," my newest nurse says. I can tell she's smiling, but I don't understand why she bothers when her mouth is hidden behind a mask. I nod. Almost 2,000 times in my life I've laid in the same machine and heard the same noise. Twice a week for nearly nineteen years adds up.

After being born with an irregular heart, cardiomegaly wrapped its fingers around my life and began to squeeze. Slowly, its grip tightened. My condition is worsening with age, and treatments are only delaying my death. No doctor is able to estimate how long I have left to live, but they're all certain that unless a miracle happens, it will kill me. Unfortunately, I don't believe in miracles. I've always preferred facts and science over wishes and shooting stars. 

"All done," the nurse chirps. "You can go ahead and change."

I sit on the edge of the machine for a second, waiting for the dizziness to subside. It's not unusual for me to black out if I stand up too fast. I pick up my neatly folded clothes and make my way to the bathroom. I've always hated hospital gowns, so I change quickly. Before leaving the bathroom, I pause in front of the mirror. The dark circles under my eyes seem more noticeable than ever. The paleness of my skin only makes them stand out more. If there's one thing I hate more than dying, it's other people being able to tell that I'm ill. I splash cold water on my face and rub at my eyes. It's no use. The circles have been there for years, and they're not leaving anytime soon. 

I walk back into the room to find the nurse and my adoptive mother looking at the radiographs. She isn't aware that I know I was adopted. I figured it out from a young age after I began to notice that we didn't have many common features. After that, I ran a DNA test. The results didn't match. I had to have been given up for adoption at an early age, seeing as I don't have any memories of a previous family. I put that together with the fact that my irregular heart was noticed at birth and assumed my birth family either didn't have enough money for my treatments, or they simply didn't want to deal with a sick and dying child. It doesn't make much of a difference to me.

The nurse whispers something quiet enough that I can't hear what she said. Things must have gotten worse. 

"Hey, sweetie. How are you?" my mom asks. Things definitely got worse. She never calls me sweetie anymore.

"I feel alright." Whenever she asks how I am, she really wants to know if I have any new symptoms. She smiles the same way everyone else does: pressed lips and concerned eyes. 

"Why don't you stay right here while your mom and I go have a chat, okay, Levi?" the nurse says.

"Sure." My voice carries a hint of annoyance. The nurses treat me the same way now as they did when I was eight, despite the fact that I'm likely much more intelligent than them. Not educated in the same way, just smarter.

I wait for them to leave before turning to the radiographs. The newest two are on the right, with four previous ones to the left. To the average person, they'd seem identical, but to anyone who has spent their life analyzing them, subtle differences appear. Subtle differences such as another area of a heart being enlarged.

~~~~~~~~~

I had an entire speech prepared. Along with a presentation, statistics, and, for last resort, begging. It wasn't often that I put in so much effort into convincing my mom to let me do something, but it wasn't uncommon, either.

"I want to go to a traditional college instead of taking courses online."

From elementary through high school, I had either taken online classes or had a personal tutor. My mom insisted that going to school would add too much stress to my life and cause my condition to worsen, but I'm tired of being separated from everything. I can barely carry out an average conversation with someone, I don't have friends, and most important of all, I've never truly experienced school. I hear it's awful, but I still want to know what it's really like. I want to stay up late because I have too much work, I want to have to sit through hour-long classes, I want to know what it's like to be normal. I don't want to live in my bubble of safety anymore. Every week of my life repeats itself, and if I don't go to college, everything will keep repeating up until the day I die. I want something new, so I formed my side of the argument and decided to share it.

"I feel like I'm missing out on a vital life experience. I know you think it will be too stressful, but I can handle it. I won't take more than three classes a day, I'll make sure to keep everything organized, and I could still live at home instead of on campus. I think it's really important for me to experience this." I almost add 'before I die', but I know she hates talking about that. I think it bothers her more than it bothers me.

I was expecting her to be surprised, and to tell me that it wouldn't be good for me. But she just smiles sadly. 

"I knew you'd ask, so I've already thought about it."

"I have good reasons and a good explanation, if you could just wait-"

"You can go," she says.

I stop talking and it seems that the rest of the world stops, too. "I can go?" I ask softly.

She smiles again and nods. "You've been locked in this house for far too long. You need to go out and share your brilliance with the world. I figure you've already done research and probably sent in applications, haven't you?" I nod. "What colleges do you have picked out, dear?"

My mind is still reeling from the fact that she said yes so quickly. Her words seem to echo for a few seconds. You can go. 

"There was one," I tell her, breaking into a grin. "Woodside University. It's local, private, small, and they've offered a full-tuition scholarship for academics."

Her mouth drops open in exaggerated astonishment. "Full-tuition to a private school? That's amazing, Levi!" She pulls me in for a hug, and I stand still for a second before hugging her back. I've never felt inclined to show physical affection as much as other people. Or much affection at all, I suppose. Sometimes I feel bad for being that way. Not only does my mom have a dying child, but an emotionally-distant, dying child, who isn't her kid at all.

She steps back and looks at me, her expression a mix of sadness and pride.

"Of course, there are also rules for you going to college," she says. "You have to send a message telling me how you're feeling every hour. I'll also need your schedule so I know where you are in case something happens. I want to go on a tour of the campus, and all of your professors will need to know about your heart."

"Okay," I say without hesitation. No amount of rules could make me reconsider going to college. "I think there's a tour today if you're not busy."

"Perfect," she replies. "Do you remember what time?"

"3:30. Woodside is about half an hour away."

"We better get going then. Grab your shoes and a jacket and we'll hit the road."

I've never been this excited before. I'm finally going to be part of something, and not from a distance. I won't have so many restrictions, schedules, and supervision. I'll finally be away from my bubble of carefulness and safety. I'm going to be free.