He put the earpieces gently in my ears. He took the chestpiece and placed it against his own chest. Right over his heart.
“Listen,” he said.
I closed my eyes.
There, in the middle of the Waffle House parking lot on Broad Street, with traffic going by and the smell of pancakes in the air, I heard it.
Ba-bum. Ba-bum. Ba-bum.
Steady and strong.
“The valve that’s in there now is mechanical,” Daniel said softly. “Rose’s valve has been gone since I was twelve.”
I nodded. My eyes were still closed.
“But this heart wouldn’t be beating if she hadn’t been there first,” he said. “Every beat. Every single one. She got me to the next part.”
I opened my eyes. I looked up at him.
“Thank you,” I said. “For taking care of it.”
He smiled.
“Thank you,” he said, “for letting me.”
Part Seventeen: Close
I went to Eli’s apartment that afternoon.
It’s not empty anymore. He has a bookshelf now, and a little table with three chairs, and curtains Mila picked out with purple flowers on them. There are crayon drawings taped to the refrigerator.
And there, in the middle of the living room, sits a brown corduroy couch with a sagging middle and a patched armrest.
Mila ran to it the moment I walked in.
“Grandma Fran!” she said. “Sit with me!”
I sat down. The sagging middle tipped me toward her, the way it used to tip me toward Arthur.
She snuggled into my side with her stuffed bunny.
“This couch hugs you,” she said. “Remember?”
“I remember,” I said.
