CHAPTER ONE
Triston
I stand at the back door, watching as Alexis peers at her camera and snaps a few shots of the flowerbeds. Winter has almost gone, the sun is shining and spring is in the air.
It’s been a tough winter. But, as Alexis pushes her hair from her face, I know it was worth it.
Only a few months ago, I couldn’t have dreamed my daughter would be out of bed, camera in hand, with her cheeks full of life and a smile on her lips.
I thought her sick heart would take her, the same way it took her mother.
But finally, we managed to find a donor.
The operation was successful and now, a month and a half later, it’s like she’s returning to her old self. Sometimes I even struggle to remember how pale she looked while sick, how weak her voice became.
My heart pounds when I think of almost losing my daughter.
She turns, smiling. Even in a baggy dress, nearly falling off her thin frame she looks better. She was always fairly thin growing up, but her illness only consumed more of her, eating becoming too much of an effort. But now I can see some fullness returning to her cheeks.
“How long have you been standing there, Dad?”
I smile, or at least I think it’s a smile. Alexis often says I have the male equivalent of resting bitch face, whatever that is. Maybe resting prick face.
“Can you blame me?” I stroll into the garden. “It’s a miracle.”
She nods, with that look of deep gratitude on her face. Any time we mention her heart transplant, that same look touches her features. “I know. I can’t believe it. I never thought I’d have the energy to take pictures again.”
“You’ll be back at college before you know it.”
Her smile spreads slowly, as though she’s afraid of giving herself permission to be happy. “I think I’ll need to wait until the fall now. There will be too much catching up to do.”
“Take all the time you need,” I say. “As long as you’re healthy, I don’t care what you do. Become a circus juggler if you want.”
She laughs. “Yeah, I bet you’d love to see that.”
I pause, taking a sip of my coffee. I’ve taken the morning off, a rare occurrence for me, specifically because I knew Alexis was going to be home. I need to talk to her about something, but I remember the way her eyes narrowed the last time I mentioned it, the tension in her face.
“Is something wrong?” she asks, raising her camera to snap a picture of a butterfly.
“Not wrong,” I say. “It’s… it’s the note.”
“Oh.” She sighs. “I don’t know, Dad. I want to. But she died so I could live. How am I supposed to look her family in the eye? They might hate me.”
“She left you that note for a reason.”
Alexis doesn’t respond for a minute, and I don’t press her.
Along with her new heart, there was a note, written by Lisa Jenkins, the woman who gifted it to her. When Lisa signed up to be a donor in the event of her death, she wanted the owner of her heart to know her name, and also to visit her family.
My family lives at the address below. Please go and see them. They’ll want to meet you. And I want to make sure they’re okay too.
The address is in the city, in the poorer area of town. I’ve looked up the apartment block on the internet, using the street view, and the front of the building was covered in graffiti when the view was captured some years ago but I doubt much has changed in the area since then.
“I don’t know if I want to,” Alexis finally says. “But I’ve been thinking. Well, this isn’t the first time you’ve brought this up.”
I nod.
Turning, she fiddles with her camera, sliding her thumb across it. I recognize the gesture from when she was a little kid. Even as a child she’d fiddle with her camera whenever she was nervous or unsure, even when the camera was just a toy camera. Her camera even if it was a toy would never leave her side.
“Why don’t you go? At least at first. That way, you can gauge their reaction, see if they’d be interested in meeting me. I just can’t stand the thought, Dad. What if I knock on the door and her mom answers? What if she’s angry? How can I go on living with this heart if I feel like I’ve stolen it?”
“I’m sure—”
“Dad,” she interrupts. “Just because Lisa wanted me to meet her family, it doesn’t mean they want to meet me.”
“I’ve been thinking about what she wrote,” I say. “She wanted to make sure they were okay. They might need help.”
“What, money?”
I shrug. “If they need money, I’ll happily give it to them. It’s the least I could do. But I’m not going to come outright and say that. I don’t want to cheapen Lisa’s death.”