“You will need to take anti-rejection medicines for the life of your [heart] transplant. It’s vital that you never stop taking your anti-rejection medicines, or change the dose, unless your transplant doctor or nurse tells you to do so. Stopping your anti-rejection medications will eventually allow your body to reject the organ.”
—University of Chicago Hospital Patient Care Guide, “Life after Your Transplant”
RYAN’S CAR IS the only one in the driveway when I get back. When I walk up the porch steps, I can see her lying out next to the pool on one of the lounge chairs, one of Mom’s cooking magazines draped over her face. I walk over, not sure if she’s awake, and she lifts the corner slightly when she hears me.
“Hey, how was the kayak lesson?”
It’s a normal question, but I can hear the smile in her voice, like she’s joking by asking it. Testing me out.
I sit on the lounge chair next to her. “The waves were too big to go out today.”
“So what’d you do instead?”
“Came back here.”
She takes the magazine from her face, then reaches back and reties her top before she sits up. “Yeah, but you were gone all day. What’d you do before you came back?”
“We—I—” I catch myself too late.
“Ha. I knew it.” She raises an eyebrow and smiles. “So who is he?”
“What if I was with one of my friends?”
Ryan lowers her sunglasses and levels her eyes at me. “When’s the last time you hung out with any of your friends?”
I shrug. I really can’t remember.
“Right. So who’s the guy?”
“How do you know there is one? “
“Wild guess,” she says. “That, and I can tell when you’re not telling me something. So talk. Who is he?”
I don’t answer right away. I want to tell her about Colton, and the day. I want to tell her how it felt sitting next to him on that cliff. That I’m worried and drawn in at the same time. I want her to give me advice, like she did the first time I asked about kissing Trent, and after the first fight we had, and whether or not I should be the first one to say I love you, or if I was ready to sleep with him. Ryan always had the answer to all my questions.
I want to know what she would think if she knew the truth, but I’m terrified of it too.
“He’s,” I say, choosing my words—and details—carefully, “he’s the kayak instructor who gave me the lesson the other day. We just had lunch today—since we couldn’t take the kayak out.” Half-truths, omissions.
“Aaannd . . .” She leans in, waiting.
“And then I came home.”
The latest issue of Eating Well comes flying at me and I have to duck. “Oh come on. Tell me something.”
“I did.”
She gives me a look.
“His name’s Colton.”
Ryan motions like Come on, and I so badly want to tell her more.
Instead I shrug. “I don’t know, he’s . . . he’s really sweet, and we just hung out.”
“That’s great,” she says, reaching a hand out to my leg. She pats it. “It really is. It’s a good thing to be moving forward.”
Moving forward sounds better than moving on, but I’m still hit by a pang of guilt at the thought, which must somehow show on my face, because Ryan changes the subject.
“Anyway, it’s better than I can say for myself at the moment.” She gestures at the magazines and candy wrappers spread all around her. “Does he happen to have a sweet older brother?”
“Just a sister,” I say before I can stop myself. I ask a quick question to avoid any more from her. “Are you okay? You seem . . .”
Ryan shrugs. “Bored? I am. I was supposed to be on the other side of the world right now, but here I am. Back home. Lying by the pool, reading Mom’s magazines, hanging out with Gran and her Red Hat ladies. I love them and all, but their lives are more exciting than mine right now, which is just . . . sad.”
“What about your whole vision-board thing, and your art portfolio? What about the run today? I thought you were all ready for new beginnings, and conquering the world.”
Ryan rolls her eyes. “I know. That’s called faking it until you make it.” She purses her lips a second. “Clearly I haven’t made it yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean Ethan dumped me in the middle of the airport and flew off to Europe alone, and I’m so . . .” She shakes her head, and I know she’s replaying whatever happened in her mind, and I’m sure she’s about to get angry all over again, but she looks at the ground, and her shoulders just kind of sag.
“I’m so sad.”
It’s like it appears on her face instantly now that she’s said it, and I can’t believe I didn’t see it until this second.
“I was so in love with him.” Her eyes fall to her lap. “Am so in love with him.” She shakes her head again. “And I hate it, because he took my heart and just stomped all over it. I shouldn’t love him still. And now . . . it’s like this paralyzing kind of feeling. Like my world just crumbled right in front of me, you know?”
I nod. I do, more than anyone.
“Oh Jesus, I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to say.”
“No it wasn’t,” I say. “It not like . . . it’s not like it just happened. You don’t have to keep being so careful around me. Actually, I kinda like the whole ‘fake it till you make it’ approach. That run hurt, but it felt good too, to be out there again.”
“Yeah, it did,” Ryan agrees, but she still looks a little lost.
“So maybe we can just keep faking it together for a little while? Keep running?”
Ryan thinks about it for a moment, and the spark comes back into her eyes. “Yeah, I like that. But first we need to get out of this house. And get us some more chocolate. And maybe some new running clothes, if we’re gonna fake it right. Your ratty old running shorts aren’t gonna fool anyone.”