The Letters

I did a heart transplant on a kid today. It was a success and it was exhilarating. His name is Noah and he’s the smartest freakin’ ten-year-old I’ve ever met. Over the last couple of months he kept getting sicker and sicker until finally he had to be placed on the transplant list. The sad thing is that some other kid lost his life somewhere. Noah kept asking me if his personality would be different after the transplant. I just told him that a healthy heart would do him a lot of good. I wondered if that’s what you were always trying to tell me.

I hope you’re well, chasing your dreams. I’ve been making a lot of plans lately. I don’t know if you’re reading my letters but I’m not going to stop sending them.

My conversation with Noah today before his surgery reminded me of you, but then again everything reminds me of you. Nate.

———

September 14, 2010

Dear Ava,

Today I came back to my house on the lake and packed up a few boxes. I’m planning to move next month. I got my job back at UCLA. Of course there’s talk that if my father weren’t the head heart surgeon there, I’d be down and out.

Olivia keeps convincing me that I’m the best and that’s why they want me back, but I only feel like the best when I’m around you. I have an agent looking for a house for me near the beach. I thought you might like that. I know you won’t answer me, so I just have to hope you’ll like it.

I’ve been working a lot but not too much. Dale and Redman keep me grounded on my days off. I had the pleasure of sticking my arm up a cow’s ass yesterday on the ranch. Dale still laughs hysterically whenever I do anything like that for him. I just pretend it’s the most serious of life-changing procedures. I’ve started calling out commands like I’m in the operating room. “Giant jug of lube please.” “Preparing to fist this cow’s ass.” I keep a completely straight face, and that’s probably what gets Dale rolling on the ground laughing. You can’t take yourself too seriously. That’s what I’ve learned lately. Even at the hospital around sick people, I’ve learned laughter is the best medicine for them and me. I guess that’s part of the bedside manner I was lacking before.

I always wonder if you ever think about me. Sometimes, when I’m lying in bed, I can feel you. It happens a few times a week, just as I doze off. I can feel your warmth. This is fucking killing me, Ava. Sometimes I think I want to give up but then I don’t even know what that means because it’s not like I’ll stop missing you.

I haven’t washed my sheets and I know that’s disgusting but I don’t want to wash away the smell of your hair on my pillow. It reminds me of you as I’m falling asleep, but then again everything reminds me of you. Nate.

———

October 14, 2010

Dear Ava,

Today is my thirtieth birthday and my last day in Montana. Happy birthday to me. I miss the fuck out of you. The scrub nurses took me for drinks after surgery today. They tried to have their way with me. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this but I’m drunk and proud of myself. I had to beat them off with clubs. Just kidding. No one comes near me because all I talk about is you and our house in L.A.

Oh yeah, I got a house overlooking the ocean. I’m moving into it in two days. The house is awesome but it needs some work. I hope it will be ready by June. I’m going to do all the work myself. There are these amazing wooden built-in hutches in the dining room that have been painted a million times over so I’m going to strip them down and stain them and restore them back to their original beauty. I think you’ll love it.

So guess what? Redman punched me in the face last week, that ornery old man. He said I was smarting off to him. I think his hand hurt worse than my face but I pretended that he got me good. He has a serious hoarding problem and I told him that he needed to see a counselor, so he socked me. Then I told him he needed anger management and he tried to sock me again but I ducked. Bea said his anger management is punching sacks of grain. Everyone misses you. Not as much as me though.

Bea and Red are crazy but great. I promised them that I would come back every summer so they made me put it in writing. There was a clause in there about you, too. I hope it’s not just my dream anymore. I walked by your cabin and saw that you had someone box everything up. I don’t know what to think anymore. Time is dragging on. The porch swing was swaying a bit from the wind and it reminded me of you but then again everything reminds me of you. Nate.

———

November 14, 2010

Dear Ava,

I’m back in L.A. and have been working non-stop on our house and at the hospital. Notice that I said “our house”? I hope that I’m not kidding myself. I told you I would stalk you but I want to give you your space, too. The other day when I lost it a little bit over you, I called Trish and made her tell me everything she knew.

She said you were in an accelerated nursing program. I’m proud of you! Fuck, I miss you.

I met one of our neighbors, Edith. She’s older than dirt but still totally with it. I keep telling her about you and yesterday she asked me if I had any pictures. I said no and she looked at me in a peculiar way. She told me I was good-looking enough to not have to make up an imaginary girlfriend. Are you real, Ava? I remember what you look like and how you feel, how you smell and the sounds you make. You must be real. God, I hope you’re real and I hope you come back to me.

Edith has a dog named Poops. He actually used to be named Carl but then he started eating his own poop so she changed his name to Poops. She said she got so mad at him for it that he wasn’t allowed to have a human name anymore. Now when people bend down to pet the little King Charles spaniel they say, “What’s his name?” and Edith says, “Poops, ’cause he eats his own damn poop.” Usually people pull back and avoid the lick on the face. It’s best for everyone, she told me. I think you’ll like her.

She sews these amazing quilts and then sells them on eBay for thousands of dollars. The quilts remind me of you but then again everything reminds me of you. Nate.

———

December 14, 2010

Dear Ava,

I’m going to spend Christmas out at the ranch. Unbelievably, I’m taking a few days off. I’ve been working non-stop to keep my mind off of you.

Yesterday I lost a patient on the table. He was a young man with an underlying heart condition. We did everything we could but his heart just couldn’t take anymore. I had to tell his family and it was awful. He had a four-year-old son and an eighteen-month-old daughter. His wife was so devastated when I told her that she fell into my arms and cried. I let her sob against my shoulder for fifteen minutes and then all of a sudden she stopped, just like that.

She stood up straight and looked at her son, who was crying, too. She said, “Daddy went to heaven. It’s just us now.” It’s like there was this realization she had where she learned she had no power to change the outcome. How difficult that must be to face. I told the boy that he had to be the man of the house and to look after his mom and sister and he sniffled, wiped his nose, and nodded. It fucking killed me and took everything I had not to break down in front of the both of them. I always say that sometimes life begrudges us for no good reason. You know that better than anyone.

Our house is almost done. I hired a designer to come in and add all the fine details to make it look and feel like a home. The whole back of the house has floor-to- ceiling windows and doors that look out on the water. There’s a patio outside our bedroom and sometimes I leave the doors open so I can fall asleep to the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks.

I’m going to the ranch for the holidays because my parents are going on a cruise, and even though our beautiful house overlooking the ocean has all the fine comforts you can imagine, it won’t be a home until you’re here. Come back to me.

The smell of the flowers planted on the hill next to our house trails up to our bedroom when the doors are open and it reminds me of you, but then again everything reminds me of you. Nate.

———

January 14, 2011

Dear Ava,

Happy New Year, baby. I wonder what you’re up to. When I was at the ranch over Christmas, Trish showed me a picture you had sent her. I couldn’t stop staring at it. You were in Venice with your mom and you both looked beautiful and happy. I’m glad to see you’re traveling around Europe and experiencing life.

Guess what? I’m going to be in two weddings this Saturday. Actually, one is more like a marriage ceremony that I’ve been asked to be a witness at. My friend and colleague, Olivia, is getting married. It was a shock because I didn’t think she would ever commit, but apparently she found her male counterpart. He’s a neuroscientist who’s really socially awkward but Olivia said she’s in love with his mind so nothing else matters to her. They met three months ago and soon after that she was living with him. She told me they have separate bedrooms. Weird, but whatever makes her happy. Then, later that day, my best friend, Frankie, is getting married to an eighteen-year-old candy striper from the hospital he works at. I could have predicted he would find someone barely legal to marry. He’s asked me to be the best man. I’m honored, honestly, I just wish you could be there with me for the slow dances.

I ate Chinese food for lunch with Frankie today and my fortune said, “You will soon be eaten alive.” I stared at it for like fifteen minutes while Frankie sat there quietly until finally he broke into a smile and started cracking up. He pranked me. I have to think of a good way to get him back.

I laughed about it for a while and then I thought of the fortune cookie writers and they reminded me of you, but then again everything reminds me of you. Nate.

———

February 14, 2011

Dear Ava,

To avoid sounding really pathetic, this letter will be short. I fucking love you and I always will, whether you’re here or not. Happy Valentine’s Day. Nate.

P.S. Edith from next door gave me a bottle of whiskey to drown my sorrows, and of course it reminded me of you, but then again everything reminds me of you.

———

March 14, 2011

Dear Ava,

I got desperate the other day and tried to think of ploys to get a response from you. I thought I could say that you gave me an STD or that I had secret information that the world was coming to an end and that we needed to be together.

We need to be together. It’s been so long. I lied in my letter back in January. I actually stole that picture of you and your mom that you sent to Trish. I had to. I’m looking at it now and I’m remembering the way the sun made your brown eyes look green. I’m remembering how you felt in my bed.

Our house is done if you want to end this torture and come back to me.

The weddings last month went well except for the fact that it seemed like everyone around me was in love and I was just alone. I thought my best man speech would have been a good opportunity to get back at Frankie and prank him but instead of telling a joke I went into a long, sorrowful oration on lost love and broken hearts. People were in tears by the end of it so I had to lighten the mood by saying, “May Frankie and Emily never know those sad truths. To many years of marital bliss and lots of little Frankies running around!” Everyone clapped but I just headed for the bar, downed a few whiskeys, and went into the bathroom, severely drunk, and wept to a banquet server on his break. I’m sounding really pathetic again. Get your sweet ass back here, Avelina. I want to love you now.

I heard that song, “I Need My Girl” by The National today and how could it not remind me of you? Then again everything reminds me of you. Nate.

———

April 14, 2011

Dear Ava,

Hi, beautiful. Two more months until I see you. I hope I’m not being delusional. Sometimes it all seems unreal; the brief move to Montana, finding you in Spain, holding you in my arms, all of it. Did it even happen?

I knew you had to heal and be on your own, I get that now, but I haven’t heard anything about you. I don’t even know if you’re safe. Trish and Bea said last they heard you were living with roommates in Madrid but that you haven’t checked in for a while. I didn’t know you were moving to Madrid. I feel lost, Ava. I don’t know what to do except wait.

I was in surgery for twenty-one hours yesterday. I saved a life with my hands but I felt nothing afterward. I was relieved, of course, but I just wanted to share it with someone. I wanted to share it with you but you’re not here. I’ve been at home today, resting and reading. I found an equestrian center in Burbank, which isn’t too far from here, where we can board Shine if you wanted to bring her back here. I know you said you were done with the horses but if it feels more like home to have her close by, then we can do it. The only way this place will feel like home for me is if you’re here.

Today at the hospital I heard a story of a man who died exactly one day after his wife’s funeral. They were married for fifty-six years. He died of sudden adult death syndrome, a cardiac condition that can be triggered by stress. It’s often referred to as the broken heart syndrome. I had heard of it but was skeptical until someone told me his story. They were each other’s best friend and a true example of lifelong love. When she was dying, he promised he would come to her soon and he did, but he made sure that she was buried before he let go. He took care of her all the way to the very end. It seems morbid to think about but that’s what I want to do for you. I want to take care of you. I want us to take care of each other until the end. The story reminded me of you, but then again everything reminds me of you. Nate.

———

May 14, 2011

Dear Ava,

Last Sunday was Mother’s Day so I took the day off and spent it with my mom. We talked about her life by my father’s side. She told me how my dad always gave her the right amount of space to be who she wanted to be but at the same time he was always attentive, which made her feel loved, like she was in a true partnership. It’s a gift to know that balance. It’s important in life and it’s important in my profession. Just wanted you to know that I’ve been trying to better myself in this time. I want to be the man that won’t let you down, ever. In a month I hope to see. This has been the longest year of my life.

Spring in California is beautiful, as you know. Everything is blooming. I can smell you in the wildflowers. Sometimes I think I see you standing on our balcony but I blink and you’re gone. Will it always be that way, Ava? I’ll blink and you’ll be gone? I haven’t asked Bea or Trish if they’ve heard from you. I’m resigned to whatever destiny has in store. Every vision I’ve had of my future includes you, but I know you have free will and those are my dreams. I hope they’re your dreams, too.

I’ve worked it out so that I’m not working incessantly. I’ll have free time with you, with our kids, if you come back to me, Ava. I promise you that.

With the extra time, I’ve taken up surfing. It gets me in Zen mode before I go to work. At the back of our house we have wooden stairs that go down to the beach. It took me a few times to get the hang of it but now I’m a regular surfer dude. I’ve even let my hair grow out about half an inch. Baby steps. My mind has been quiet for a while now. There’s no more searching for answers. I know exactly what I want and I know that I may not get it. It’s been hard; I’m lonely. I miss you. I miss the idea of you.

Edith, our neighbor always tells me I’m weird because I don’t have a girlfriend. I keep telling her that you’re coming but when she asks where you are now, I have to say that I don’t know. I don’t know where you are in this world, in your mind, or in your heart, but I hope that a month from now it will all be the same place . . . with me.

People ask me all the time if I date or if I’m in a relationship. I never know the right thing to say. I usually tell them that I’m waiting for the only girl I’ve ever loved to come back to me. I get a lot of weird looks but I don’t care.

You have our address from the envelopes so I guess we can just plan to meet here on June 14th. I’ve already taken the day off. Come home.

This morning I bought a pair of shoes and stopped at a rack of women’s boots. I spotted a pair just like yours and it reminded me of you but then again everything reminds me of you. Do you think it always will? Nate.

———

June 14, 2011

Dear Ava,

This is the last letter I’m going to write you. I’m saying goodbye; I have to in order to move on with my life. You didn’t come back to me. I don’t know how long my hope was false. I don’t know if you were over us a month after I last saw you or if it was yesterday. I just know that I spent a year waiting for you and you never came.

It rained all night last night. We had a weird summer storm but somehow it made everything seem fresh this morning; renewed. I got up early and cleaned the house from top to bottom, took a shower, and waited. The house was full of flowers for you and I got your favorite wine. I even made dinner for the both of us and then I ate it alone. I sat out on the balcony and watched the sun go down into the ocean and then the wind picked up and I came inside to write you this letter.

I loved you, I love you now, but I’ll be able to go on. I know that I can. You taught me that. Not being with you is far from my dream, but like our hearts, dreams can be broken and repaired again. It’s hard for me not to wonder if I scared you away with all these letters. I hope not. I hope it just made you see how beautiful and amazing you are. I guess I’m realizing now that I just want you to be happy and safe. That’s the most I can hope for now. I brought some of your boxes here but I didn’t open

CHAPTER 26