East didn’t answer. Because he didn’t have enough information yet to know whether he believed or disbelieved. He was just listening.
Glory continued. “And then he tells me that he wants me back! I mean, can you believe that?”
East didn’t answer again—again because he didn’t have enough information yet to know whether he believed or disbelieved. He was just listening.
“And I said, as nicely as I could, ‘Wes, I’m sorry. I have a new heart now. It doesn’t want you back.’ And I know that sounds harsh, but it was the truth, and I owed him the truth. And I should have left it at that…” Glory paused and fought off some sadness as she relived her last moments with Wes. But then shook the sadness off and continued, “But I didn’t—leave it at that. And I told him that even if my old heart had been working, I didn’t think it would want him back either. And that…” Glory sighed and tumbled into a deep sadness as she finished her story. “That just killed him.”
East realized that he had been holding his breath since Glory revealed that she had killed her husband. Because he thought that she had actually killed her husband.
But now he realized that she hadn’t actually killed her husband.
She may have contributed to his demise.
But she hadn’t killed him.
And he exhaled for the first time since Glory had said that she had killed her husband. “Oh-oh-oh,” he stammered, relieved to learn that Glory wasn’t a killer. “So you didn’t … actually kill him.”
“Yes, I did! Because he got so sad that my new heart didn’t want him back that he just tore outta my house … and ran outside … and a bus was coming, and he didn’t see it, and…” She struggled to say what happened next, because it upset her so deeply. “And it just took him right out.”
“But … that wasn’t your fault. That was just … fate. Or somethin’.”
“No. It was my fault. At least—partly. Because I wished some pretty terrible things for him after he left me.”
“Well, that seems understandable.”
“It’s not, really. You’ve got to be careful what you wish for.” Glory looked at East, ashamed of what she may have wished for her ex-husband. “Anyway, I’m just here for some closure. I just want to say goodbye to him in my own way—not as his sad ex-wife at some big public service—but just … privately.” Glory started to fall into another deep sadness.
And East tried to catch her fall by hugging her again.
And when he did, he felt that strange lightness fill up his insides again.
And Glory felt it, too, and she pulled away from East as soon as she did. Because it scared her, that lightness. Because it made her feel like it might make her do things she didn’t normally do—like kiss a man she hardly knew.
Like East.
Which she suddenly did.
And then, as suddenly as she was kissing him, she wasn’t.
And East had the brown paper bag in his possession again—and was suddenly kissing Glory back. And then pulling away from her.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Don’t be, thought Glory. And she kissed him again.
And then pulled away again.
And then gasped, “I’m sorry.”
And East said, “Don’t be! I love you!”
“Well—don’t do that!” Glory groaned, wincing, because East couldn’t possibly love her; he had just met her.
“Well, I can’t help it!” said the quiet stoic, who was suddenly getting loud and emotional.
“Well…” Glory saw that East had the brown paper bag again, and she grabbed it from him. “Help it!” she commanded.
“Why?” demanded East.
“Because! I won’t be able to love you back! I have a heart that can pump my blood and that’s all! The one that did the other stuff is broken! It doesn’t work anymore!” This was an inaccurate series of statements, because Glory was clearly feeling all the things that hearts make people feel. So either her artificial heart was doing more than just pumping her blood, or the one she had been carrying around was doing all the “other stuff” it used to do. Whatever the case, one of her hearts had moved Glory to kiss East again.
And when Glory pulled away from East, East had her heart again.
And Glory grabbed it right back.
And then East kissed Glory again.
And pulled away again.
And East had her heart again.
And Glory grabbed it back again.
And East grabbed it right back and pleaded, “Let me have this!”
“No!” Glory lunged and tried to get her heart back again, but East kept it away from her, which wasn’t very difficult, because he was tall, and she was not.
Glory lunged again—but failed to retrieve her heart.
East was impressed that someone with an artificial heart was so spry and strong. Modern medicine is a wonder, he thought.
And then Glory lunged again, without success.
And this went on for some time—Glory repeatedly lunging for her heart, East repeatedly keeping it just out of reach.
From a distance, they looked like a couple of kids playing keep-away.
Until one lunge landed Glory face-first in the snow.
“Oh! Are you okay?” asked East, rushing to Glory to help her up, because he felt terrible that he had just made her face-plant.
Glory flipped onto her back, sat up, and demanded, “East, give that back to me.”
“No!”
“It’s mine!”
“But it’s broken! It’s no good like this!”
“But it’s my heart,” pleaded Glory.
“Yeah. It is.” East held Glory’s heart above his head, out of her reach, and declared, “And right now, I have it.”
East looked up at the brown paper bag and said, “And I can fix it.”
And then he looked at Glory and said, “I’m a repairman. I repair things. It’s what I do.”
Glory took in what East had said. And wondered what his being a repairman had to do with anything.
And then realized it had everything to do with everything.
And she contemplated what East was proposing.
And what it implied.
And then she scowled and scoffed, because there was no way East could possibly do what he had just said he could do, whether he was a repairman or not.
But … then she couldn’t help but wonder … what if he could do what he just said he could do?
What would happen?
East took off his coat and spread it out on the snow, lining up, in front of him. And then knelt down and placed the brown paper bag on it. He rubbed his hands to warm them. And then cupped them over his mouth and exhaled to warm them some more. And then took hold of the bag. The paper around the opening was so worn, it felt more like cloth than paper.
And then he checked in with Glory as he started to open it.
And paused. Because she didn’t seem to want him to open it.
But she didn’t seem to want him to not open it.
So East opened it.
And as he did, Glory inhaled sharply as if she was afraid that opening the bag was going to hurt her or something. And she held her breath.
And then stopped holding it.
Because she realized that the bag was open—and she was okay.