Welcome to the Family

I spent almost a month in the strange quarantine room in the ICU section, without ever seeing or talking to my family or Matt. I was told that if I got upset, the wounds could rip open. The fever was high, 105° Fahrenheit constantly.
I sweat through my gown almost every single day. I started to hallucinate. I spent Christmas and New Year’s Eve in the ICU, without ever talking to my parents, not knowing what was happening in the outside world.

While my body was busy fighting the infection, my mind surprisingly started to heal. When they finally brought down the fever, I was placed into a normal room again. When I finally saw my parents again, I cried tears of joy. My first words after almost four months of heartbreak and delusion were “I’m happy to be back.” From that day on, I received calls from Matt again, and he told me he’d come to see me as soon as I wanted him to.

I spent another month in hospital, not sure if I wanted Matt to come or not. I was torn. On one side, I needed to see him. I loved him, after all. But on the other side, I was improving ever so slowly. I didn’t want to get worse again, and maybe I would, if I saw him again. I was sure it would upset me.

It was incredible. Almost five months had passed since I last saw him, but still I remember the day he confessed his side leap as if it was only yesterday. It took both of us a long time to understand that he wasn’t the one making me sick, and he still blamed himself for what happened to me.

I didn't anymore. In fact, my family had a long history of heart diseases, and when I was born my parents were told I wouldn’t live past 50 with this heart. Sure, my unhealthy lifestyle and the stress caused by Matt had triggered the thing, but we knew it would come sooner or later.

After I gradually fought my way back into life, I was finally sent home. I had to use a wheelchair, and I still needed to lay still for two weeks before I could start with the physical therapy, trying to see if I could learn to walk again. Still, the odds were 70% that I wouldn't.
But it was fine with me, I was at home at last.
It’s funny how we will stub a toe or have a headache and complain about that, I thought, there’s always someone worse off than you, no matter how bad something seems.

And I was determined not to think of my impairment as the worst that could have happened to me. I would learn to walk again, and I would learn to face Matt without feeling bad again. After three days at home, I had my mom invite him for dinner. When he walked through the door in his white button down shirt and his grey, obviously new, pants, I knew he was making a lot of effort.

He looked good. His hair was a little bit longer, but it suited him perfectly. He brought flowers for me, some wine and chocolates for my mom and a guitar for my dad, who played for fun. He gave all of his “belated Christmas presents” to my parents before finally turning to me. “Hey,” he said simply and threw me a shy smile.

“Hi,” I said, voice cracking. He was gorgeous. And his dimples… I slowly wheeled closer to him. “Wait, I’ll help you with that,” he said and jumped closer. Easy there, it’s not like I’m going anywhere. He put my wheelchair to the dinner table and sat down right next to me. “It might seem like a stupid question to ask, but how are you, Vicca?” he turned to face me and his hazel eyes locked with mine.

“I’m good, I guess,” I said and managed to throw him a smile, “How was the tour?” He returned my smile and then started to recount some things from the tour.
I think people look the happiest when they talk about something they love with a light in their eyes. And so it wasn’t exactly a surprise that I thought he looked incredibly handsome when he did so.


During dinner, we all had nice conversations together, but it was tiring me out since I wasn’t used to sitting and talking for so long. Also, I didn’t dare ask if he was divorced yet. When we were done, I asked Matt to leave. He agreed and said he couldn‘t wait to come some other time, and when we said our goodbyes, he bent down, and for the briefest of moments, brushed his lips against my forehead.

In the next few weeks, I got better and better. After a while, I was finally able to sit the whole day without having to take breaks. My parents or Matt often took me for walks, or at least they walked and pushed my wheelchair. I liked going out in the crisp weather, when the air tasted clean and cold. A few more days, a few more pounds to gain, and I knew I would be able to start physical therapy, to at least learn to walk with crutches again.


There are 24 hours in all of our days, except for two. Scary, right? Especially, when one of those two days is the day you were born, and the other one can be anytime. It might be tomorrow, it might be in a year, it might be in fifty years. You never know when your last day on earth is, that is until one day, the day you die.

I didn’t expect anything that day. It was a regular Tuesday morning when my dad took me to a mall in Los Angeles. We looked at watches and bought some birthday presents for mom. We had a lot of fun. I was joking around and laughing, but then I saw her, Val, heavily pregnant.

My world started spinning faster and faster, almost like on a rollercoaster ride. I wanted to scream, wanted to get off. My upper stomach and back started to hurt as if someone had stabbed me. In addition, my heart burned as if it was soaked in acid. I knew I was dying. I knew this was it.

Darkness started to overcome me, to soak me up. The last thing I saw was my father’s worried face in front of me. “Vicky? Vicky! Wake up, stay with me.” But I couldn’t. I felt sad having to leave him behind like this, but I slowly let my eyelids flutter shut, and with them, the pain stopped.

I saw colorful images, almost as if I was on acid, but better. To my left, I saw my grandparents waving at me, and I felt euphoric when I spotted Kaylee next to them. “Vicky, welcome to the family,” they smiled and reached their hands out to me.

I ran toward them, and I didn’t waste a second wondering why I was suddenly able to walk again. I felt weightless when I ran, almost like flying. I waited so long just to come home, I thought, so long. And I tried so many times just to get here, but now that I didn't want to anymore, I came here.

“Don’t,” I heard a voice, “it’s not right.” I looked to the right and saw a black-haired man with a chin piercing and the most beautiful blue eyes I’d ever seen. Who was that? I felt surprised that I already knew the answer. “A-are you Jimmy?” I heard myself say, and he waved his long, gawky arms and motioned to what happened below me.

There I saw myself, pale as the moon. I was lifted onto a gurney and ever so slowly placed in an ambulance. My head started to turn blue. My dad sat on the floor with his head cradled in his hands, sobbing.

Suddenly, Jimmy was right next to me. “Loved ones back home all crying ‘cause they’re already missing me,” he sang into my ear and goosebumps started to cover my body. “I pray by the grace of God that there’s somebody listening.” He looked at me. "You, you are the one who needs to listen. Are you giving up? It's fine if you do, you fought a long time, brave Vicky."


I was uncertain. Was I too quick to choose defeat? I looked to the left, to my grandparents and sister standing in the light, then down at the ground at my body and my dad. Did I have a choice? And if so, what would I choose?

Notes

Surprise... What will she choose? What do you think Matt chose?