Not Your Average Heart

This short story is a about a teenage girl who's life has revolved around her terminal heart condition. It shows her that although her heart hasn't worked right for years, it's still able to love.

The average adult heart beats 72 times a minute; 100,000 times a day; 3,600,000 times a year; and 2.5 billion times during a lifetime.

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I wish timing wasn't so bad

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Your mom talked to me about you all the time when she was giving me my medicine every morning, the doctor told her that I hadn't talked to anyone in days and I know that her life was spent away in the hospital so you were the only thing that went on outside of it

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She talked about how you were her only child and she was having issues with you going through your rebellious stage and that she was sure I knew what it was like since I was a teenager myself

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But I really didn't know what it was like because my life outside of the hospital was spent locked away in my bedroom because it was the only place that my parents felt I was safe enough.

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She always would tell me stories about when you were little, I remember her telling me that when you were in kindergarten, you wandered away at recess and they found you three blocks over in someone's yard feeding their dog your sandwich she had packed you for lunch.

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I would never tell her this, but I envied you for how much she loved you, my parents had gotten obsessed with keeping me alive, they viewed me more as an object, like my life was a game they had refused to lose.

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October 23, 2014

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My machine wouldn't stop beeping and your mom would usually come in by now, I finally got tired of hearing it so I slowly but surely got up and made my way out of the room.

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You were sitting in the nurses station like you owned the place, playing on your phone. I had to clear my throat 3 times to be exact, to get your attention.

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I asked if you knew where the nurse was, unsure of who you were. I remember you telling me about how your mom was in the room with another patient and that you were waiting for her to get back so she could give you gas money.

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She came back and introduced us and insisted on getting me back to bed because I was so weak. I never let her know but I was embarrassed that she said that in front of you because for a moment I felt as if I wasn't sick and I was just having a conversation with a cute boy.

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She fixed my machine and introduced us. Her pager went off so she had to go assist another patient. You stayed.

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We talked to three hours.

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I never let you know this but I slept for 12 hours that night. I hadn't had that much interaction with anyone for months.

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You gradually started to come every week. Mondays and Thursdays. It slowly became an everyday thing.

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We grew closer and closer. I avoided all talk about my condition. You didn't ask. But I knew you had to of had an idea of what you were getting yourself into. I was in hospice care after all.

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We talked about our futures. How many kids we planned to have. Where we wanted to live. I wanted 1 and you wanted 5. I wanted to be in Australia while you wanted to be in Germany. We talked for hours about nothing making it all into something. I'll never forget that.

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Months went by.

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I didn't tell you but I started to feel bad again. I knew you could tell by the way I didn't talk much. I started to sleep more.

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You stayed while I slept.

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I never told you, but I really enjoyed your company.

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They told me that my body had stopped responding to the medicine and they would do anything to keep me comfortable.

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You came to visit me the day after, I know I should've told you but you were so excited on getting accepted into your dream college. I didn't mention it to you although I should have.

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July 6, 2015

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You kissed me for the first time. I remember feeling my heart beat out of my chest.

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It was the first time I had felt it do it's job in months.

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I refused visitors when I started feeling bad.

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Your mom begged me to let you see me. I told her that I couldn't let you see me like this.

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I was doing you a favor.

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I could never let you see me like this.

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It's hard to write now.

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The average adult heart beats 72 times a minute; 100,000 times a day; 3,600,000 times a year; and 2.5 billion times during a lifetime

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My heart was never good at doing its job, but it was pretty good at loving you

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Author's Note

This is one of the first time I've wrote anything for short stories. Please give me feedback.

Reviews

[Molly]

The ending was predictable, but it was written in a way I didnt expect which takes skills. Amazing job!