Page 14 of Silent Vigilante
“Both are battles of the heart that could be lifesaving if done right,” he said earlier.
What did I tell you? He’s many years wiser than the date on his birth certificate.
My already sluggish speed slows even more when I notice my bedroom door is open. With privacy an extreme priority for me, I never leave my door open. Furthermore, I left my room at nine this morning, so why is my bedroom light on?
With my fists at the ready to cause damage, and my suspicion a smidge higher than my annoyance, I push open my bedroom door. My fists un-ball so quickly my knuckles pop in protest to their quick movements. Phoenix and Madden aren’t snooping in my room, and neither are the men Mr. Gregg has me forever on the watch for. Melody is. I’d never mistake the crazy twists of her dirty-blonde hair when she lets it dry naturally after washing it, much less her extra-long legs.
After tapping on Melody’s shoulder, startling her, I sign, “You scared the shit out of me.”
A new type of fear takes hold when her eyes lift from my hands to my face. Tears are marking her cheeks, and her nose is raw from a tissue being dragged under it too often. This is the first time I’ve seen her cry in almost two years, and I truly hate it.
“Are you okay? What is going on? Where is your dad?” Both my words and the movements of my hands are full of uneased hesitation.
I stop peering at the Greggs’ ranch through my bedroom window when I see Melody replying in the corner of my eye. “He’s asleep. I snuck out after reading your text messages.” She drags her hand under her nose, amplifying the redness highlighting the tip before continuing, “I am so sorry, BJ. I was mad about our fight, so I shoved my phone into a drawer in my room. I only got your texts about Joey a little over an hour ago.”
She’s one of a very rare few who know about Joey’s condition. I had planned to tell her shortly after his diagnosis, but Joey beat me to it. He’d never cut his little brother’s turf, but I’m reasonably sure he has a hidden fondness for Melody as well.
When I bridge the gap between us, Melody’s tear-filled eyes bounce between mine, seeking any sign on Joey’s condition. When my eyes fail to give her all the answers she’s after, I fill in the gaps with words. “Despite whining about an uncomfortable mattress, he’s in good spirits. Dr. Giorgio said he’ll most likely have to stay admitted until they find him a new heart.”
Fresh tears spill down Melody’s cheek when she asks, “He needs a heart transplant?” It appears as if the world shifts from beneath her feet when I nod. “Oh God. That isn’t good.”
“It is okay. It is Joey. He will fight this,” I sign with the utmost confidence.
As I wrap her up in a tight hug, the image of her with Connor this morning fades from my mind. It’s pretty ridiculous at a time when my focus should’ve been on nothing but my family that Melody and Connor kept popping up in my head. They had left the round yard by the time Joey was placed into the back of an ambulance, and no matter how many times I texted Melody during the commute to the hospital, she never answered a single one.
Melody’s heated breaths fan my chest when I tighten my grip around her waist. The thoughts in my head the past sixteen-plus hours weren’t pleasant, and they most certainly didn’t end like this, so you can be assured I’m going to relish the happy ending of this day instead of the gory way it started.
After taking a few moments to absorb the sentiment in the air, Melody pulls back and asks, “How long is the organ donor list to get a heart?”
I start my reply with a shrug. “Dr. Giorgio didn’t say, but she did agree with Joey’s assumption that his odds are better here than in a big-city hospital.” When Melody peers at me with confused, moisture-filled eyes, I explain, “There are more accidents and deaths per capita in any city compared to a country town, but that also means there are a lot of people on the organ donor list.” An unexpected giggle rips from Melody’s throat when I add, “There are also a shit ton of old geezers in our town dying for a chance to meet with Jesus. We have just got to hope one of them croaks it with a relatively healthy heart.”
“That isn’t funny, BJ.” She whacks me in the stomach before signing, “Although I am kinda hoping it will come true.”
“Me, too,” I admit.
Joey is my brother, but that isn’t the only reason I’m hopeful. He’s also a great person. Before his diagnosis, he excelled at school. He was both popular and polite, and he had the perfect amount of empathy and understanding. If anyone in our family is going to follow in our mother’s footsteps, it will be Joey.
Melody and I stand huddled in the middle of my room for what feels like a lifetime but is more likely only a few minutes. We’ve never cuddled out in the open like this before. We hold hands and hug each other multiple times a day when her dad isn’t looking, but Melody does that with her female friends too, so I’ve never looked into it as deeply as I am now.
This feels more complex than a standard friend hug. Not even a lack of life experience could have me mistaking our exchange as being fueled by sadness.
While recalling my conversation with Joey out of his bedroom window this morning, I peel Melody away from my chest before lowering my eyes to hers. They’re as sad as they were when I entered my room, but that isn’t the only spark brightening them. They’re holding some of the fire they held yesterday afternoon when she asked me why she didn’t give Connor her number, proving Joey is right. She wants me to fight for her.
“I know why you didn’t give Connor your phone number—”
The rest of my reply clogs in my throat when Melody pulls away from me with an embarrassed huff. “Please don’t mention that now. We have more important things to worry about than my stupidity.”
I wait for her eyes to lock with my lips before saying, “No, we don’t.” I remove her hands from her inflamed face, hating when she hides from me. “This is important, too. We are important.”
“We are?” When I nod, Melody’s mouth falls open. “I am deaf, but that didn’t sound like a best friend ‘we are’ to me, BJ.”
A grin curls on my lips. I love her sass. “That is because it wasn’t. I want to be your best friend, Melody, but that isn’t all I want to be.” I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear before I continue my confession, “I was jealous yesterday. I hated that Connor had your attention, and your friends most likely encouraged his pursuit.”
Her lack of response reveals I hit the nail on the head.
“But even if they did, I should have trusted you.”
My heart patters out a funky tune when she dips her chin in agreement. “Yes, you should have. I have never done anything to gain your mistrust, BJ. Not years ago, and not yesterday.”
