“You’ll be in here.”
The door slid open.
Was Grace nearby? Marcus gazed at the other rooms and sucked in a deep breath, searching for her scent, the pineapple of her lotion seeping from her skin as if she’d swallowed the fruit whole.
He stepped inside.
A female nurse entered through another door.
“Have a seat,” she ordered.
He sat without thinking.
Always without thinking.
“Is there a fan in here?” he asked.
She didn’t turn around.
“It’s the perfect temperature for the procedure. The heart enjoys a specific climate. We like to honor that.”
“Have you had this done?”
“Absolutely. All of us who work here undergo the procedure.”
His hands quivered as she handed him a robe to change into.
“You afraid?” she asked.
Yes, he wanted to say.
“No,” he replied.
She glanced down at his chart. “If you love your partner, there’s nothing to worry about.”
That had never been a problem for Marcus. The problem was what came after.
* * *
“I’m a heartician, and I’m here to complete your procedure,” the man said to Grace. “Are you ready for answers?”
Grace turned her head in his direction. “I think so. But…like, how are the results presented?”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “First-timer?”
Grace smiled.
“A virgin,” he added.
She crossed her arms over her chest, the cold of the room suddenly hitting her.
“You should wait and see. Plus, I don’t want to ruin any part of the experience.” He draped a blanket over her, tucking her in like the table was a bed.
“I want to know. I like to know things.”
“Don’t they say that good things come to those…oh, I’ve forgotten the saying. In any case, trust is what brought you here, so trust that you will enjoy the process. You’re here to find answers, and the truth is always best.”
The truth was always complicated. Grace didn’t like the unknown. After her mom had died suddenly, she never wanted anything creeping up on her again. Her dad said she was scared of her own shadow now. But she chose to believe the world would be better if everything had its place and every question had its answer, like pairs of matching socks. So she could prepare.
She was about to get her wish.
The answers.
What if she didn’t like what she found?
This is a bad idea. Her best friend Coley’s warning grew louder and louder in her head, a wave about to crash into her.
As the heartician worked in a corner, Grace gazed around. She had expected a doctor’s office—a sink, a chair, unmarked cabinets, the scent of alcohol, a few brochures. But the room’s wonders unfurled: cabinets full of viscera, drawers spilling over with odd metal instruments, and a golden sarcophagus waiting to receive her heart.
“You’ll love this process, and you’ll come back,” the heartician said.
“People do it more than once?”
“If you’re lucky, you’ll experience many loves in a lifetime.”
Grace pursed her lips with doubt. She was supposed to be with Marcus.
Marcus & Grace
Grace & Marcus
She had never given herself room to think about having another love. Not really. He was the one.
The heartician’s silver instruments hit the tray with a thud. “Some people don’t like entering new relationships without a good sense of what they’re getting into. To save themselves from heartbreak or have a starting place for couples therapy. I think it’s smart always to be prepared.”
Grace agreed about that.
“New relationship?”
“No.”
His eyebrow lifted as he pressed a button on the wall. “Did he cheat, sweetie?”
The exam table rose beneath Grace. She flattened her hands against her sides. “No.”
“Oh! Then why are you here?” The heartician gazed down at her.
“To see if we should stay together.”
He paused. “We’re not fortune-tellers.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Her pulse raced. The man’s questioning eyes scattered her thoughts, disturbing them like a kicked beehive. “I want to know if we love each other enough. Is it heavy enough to, like…”
“I can’t tell you what’s on the road ahead. But I can tell you how much you love each other right now. Your heart will reveal its imprints. The deeper the imprint, the more love you have for a person. The fresher one is, the newer the love for a person. Scabbed imprints tell us about past loves that have gone away. And the weight of each will tell us the value of your love for one person in relation to your love for other people.”
Grace filed that information away like a squirrel hoarding nuts for winter. She’d analyze it, study every word, to make sense of it later.
The heartician patted her arm. “Ready?” He retrieved a glass thermometer. “Need to make sure you don’t have a temperature.”
Grace opened her mouth like a baby bird to receive the cold instrument.
His eyes remained fixed on the thin rod as the red line of mercury rose. He plucked it from her mouth and said, “No fever. We’re ready.”
Grace gulped.
She wasn’t so sure anymore.
The heartician placed a mask over her face.
It was too late.
A sweet-flavored steam entered her mouth.
* * *
In adjacent rooms, two hearticians removed knives from their trays. The lights dimmed, leaving only golden circles over the deep brown chests of Grace and Marcus.
Two perfect halos.
The edges of the knives were swift. Blood beaded along the lines they left behind, bracelets of crimson pearls.
The hearticians lifted the hearts of Marcus and Grace from their chests at the exact same moment.
“Healthy. Full of love,” one remarked.