I’ll Always Be With You

I can’t remember the last time I smiled happily.

I can’t remember the last time I felt happiness erupt inside of me.

I can’t remember the last time I was fulfilled with happiness.

I do remember the last time I cried. It was two hours ago.

I do remember the last time I came apart at the seams. It was yesterday.

I do remember the last time I collapsed physically. It was last week.

The world I used to know had fallen apart six months ago. One hundred and eighty-three days. Four thousand three hundred and ninety-two hours.

***

I enter the same train I’ve taken for the last two months to get to work. I always choose the last wagon, far away from the hassle of commuters in rush hour traffic. If my preferred seat next to the window facing the engine is occupied, I keep standing next to the door on the side, which isn’t used on this route.

I own a gallery downtown, but I live in a house outside of the city.  It had been a mutual decision between us, but really it had been her who needed to be able to breathe. To move closer to the city isn’t something I want or can think about, but it would make my life easier. I don’t like driving anymore and the car on my driveway hasn’t been used for six months. I should have driven it once in a while to secure its functionality, but I couldn’t bring myself to do so. Every time I walk past the car, my chest constricts painfully and my heart clenches excruciatingly. I can’t go near it, although it is probably the closest thing I have of her. Her. HER.

The thought of her makes my heart cramp tightly and I inhale deeply to try to starve off the oncoming wave of desperation and anxiety. I bite down hard on my lip and press my hands, balled up in fists onto my thighs to replace the agony in my head and heart with a different pain, a physical pain. An ache that would vanish if I stopped. I don’t stop though. The discomfort of my muscles at the intruding pressure gives me a sense of comfort. It only lasts so long. My skin gets used to the feeling and my muscles numb the sensation, and it doesn’t help this time. I still feel the desperation and loneliness taking over my mind. I want to get off the train, but it isn’t near any station. I anxiously let my eyes flit over steel surfaces and cushioned seats, bounce off plastic walls and damaged advertisements, until they get stuck on green. My vision zeroes in, analysing the colour with all the feelings still so raw and alive, to only realise it can’t be her. It can never be her again.

The disappointment of this realisation floods my body and leaves me breathless, but the green is still there and I can’t look away. It isn’t the same colour, of course it isn’t, but it is a warm tint of green and I focus on it.

Even if I want to, and I’m sure I don’t, I can’t break the spell. It engulfs me. Any sense for time or appropriateness leaves my consciousness. I keep staring at the green, and miraculously I feel my heartbeat slowing, my breathing deepening, even my hands unclench and I feel my body relaxing in the seat. I’m baffled, as all it takes to calm myself is a look at a pair of eyes which had not even been focused on me. The stranger’s gaze, who leans against my second favourite spot on the train, is still fixed above my head. An unfamiliar person whom I haven’t met before, but my body knows her. She calms me down.

She seems entirely too focused on nothing. Her forehead is furrowed deeply until her glance drops down to me. Confusion is taking over the green-eyed’s features, and I lower my head and finally break the gaze. I’m not ashamed for staring, but I know I should react that way. I’ve learned to display every reaction expected of me to fool people into believing I’m ok and normal and healthy and strong. I was far from any of them. I was broken beyond repair. I might look like the woman I was six months ago, but I was only a shadow of that me. I lost myself the day I lost her.

When my station is announced as the next stop, I quickly take my stuff and walk over to the closest door. Before I step off the train I risk a short glance over my shoulder, back to the woman with the green eyes. They were trained on me and the irritation from minutes ago has morphed into a small smile. I stumble at the gap between the platform and the train. The smile reminds me of her. She used to smile like that. The train leaves the station and I’m following it with my eyes, dumbfounded and shocked.

“Ma’am? Are you alright?” A train official walks past me. I can only nod as words betray me. I blink a couple of times in my disbelieving state, but eventually I turn and walk out of the station building. ‘Who was the woman? Have I seen her before and can’t remember? Was she a customer? A client? A friend? An acquaintance?’ My head starts hurting at all the questions and my hands are sweaty by the time I reach my gallery. I push the heavy door open and close it as quickly as possible by leaning against it. The memories of what happened temporarily forgotten in favour of the mysterious woman on the train. It drives me crazy that I seem to know her, although I’m also convinced neither of us have met this person before. Or has she? Have we?

“I think I’m officially losing my mind.” I whisper into the vast silence of my gallery and the echo of it scares me. I have no pictures on the walls. Not anymore. I took them down in a rage fit. I blink at the memory and feel the despair for my situation rolling over me like a tsunami, flooding my mind and clawing at my heart, tearing it open and I’m bleeding again. I’m still bleeding for her as she was bleeding the last time we looked at each other.

Six months ago

“Babe, hurry up. I can’t be late.” I yell through our house, knowing she’s upstairs getting herself ready for my newest exhibition.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” She huffed and puffed, running down the stairs to finish her ensemble by slipping into her high heels. I can hear her walking down the hall to the kitchen where I’m waiting, nervously sipping on the camomile tea she’d prepared for me, when I was upstairs.

“I’m ready.” She announces, stepping through the door. I’m at a loss of words when my eyes fall on her. She’s wearing soft black suit pants and her top is greyish with a V-neck, her shoulders are bare. I have never seen the shirt before. She must have bought it for tonight. Her feet are balancing in black strappy heels and her hair flows freely over her right shoulder. She catches me checking her out and smiles radiantly before doing a slow spin for me to appreciate her backside. I swallow air as my mouth has dried out at the vision in front of me.

“You are so…” I start, but it only sounds like the croak of a crow and I cringe. I clear my throat when she steps closer. “You are so stunningly beautiful tonight.” I manage and take her into my arms. She laughs at my sentiment and kisses me sweetly before leaning back with a smirk on her luscious mouth. “Only tonight?” She teases and I know what she’s doing. It helps. I’m calming down.

“Not only tonight...” I push up on my toes and capture her mouth. “But especially tonight,” I breathe against her lips, before losing myself in our bubble of blissful happiness. Kissing her has always been my favourite pastime, ever since she’d been dared to kiss me at one of those stupid high school parties. Before that night, I hadn’t lived. She had breathed life into me.

 “You look gorgeous too my love.” She whispers and I smile bashfully. I’m not sure why, but I always feel shy, when she compliments me. Maybe it’s because of her own unmatched and quite insane beauty. Maybe it’s because it’s her.

“Thanks.” I say, to say something.

“Shall we leave?” She asks, searching my face for any sign of discomfort, anxiety or nervousness. She finds them all, but I nod.

“Yes. Let’s get this thing rollin’.” I try to convince us both of my optimism and joy to finally be able to show my new art. She knows though and takes my hand in hers, giving it a tight squeeze and kisses me once more before we’re finally leaving. We arrive on time and I set up everything I couldn’t do earlier in the day. The doors are wide open and she walks around, she knows I don’t need her help anymore. I study her from across the room. Her eyes are big and full of wonder. They shine with a childish joy she has somehow managed to keep even after having grown up. With each of her steps another of my spots, illuminating the art on the walls, enhances her eyes and I can easily see a range of grey to light green to dark green to light brown. I’m mesmerized. People always tell me I have amazing eyes. She always tells me she’s crazy about the blue of them, but, here in this moment, I realise how fascinating hers are with the variety of colouration. How captivating and enchanting.

She pulls me out of my stupor. “Darling, are you ready?”

I grin and shake my head to clear my mind. “I am.” I answer convincingly. With her at my side I’m always ready for anything. That’s what I thought until I am at her side and totally unprepared for what’s happening.

I don’t even hear them coming. They sound like any other car outside passing my gallery. It isn’t any other car. I’ll be told later it belonged to a company she had recently bought. We’d celebrated the success just a few days prior.  They slow down and then speed up. I’m confused at the antics. I didn’t hear anything but I feel her collapsing against me. I’m surprised and irritated, but I try to remain collected for her sake. She slowly sinks down with me onto the floor, because I can’t hold her anymore. She ends up lying half on me and I want to roll her over to check her but I can’t. Her eyes are fixed on mine.

“Clarke.” She whispers and I free one hand and touch her cheek, wiping at the tears staining the soft skin.

“Shhh.” I coo and push up to press my lips against hers. “You’ll be alright. Just let me check you.”

She slowly shakes her head and I start to feel wet warmth seeping into my blouse. “Baby?” I ask, panic creeping into my voice. “Baby? What’s happened?” I don’t grasp the finality of the situation until she’s weak enough for me to roll her off me and I can see the blood oozing out of her like a waterfall. I scream but her hand finds my mouth and muffles my sound. I get up and stumble away from her frantically searching for anything I can use to stop the blood loss with. I run back and let myself fall next to her onto the hard tiled floor, pushing down the cotton cloth I found. She keeps closing her eyes more often and I edge closer, cautious to not loosen the pressure on the gaping wound. I cling to her top. “Stay with me baby.” I cry out. “Stay with me. I can’t live without you.” I sob now.

She slowly opens her beautiful eyes and smiles at me softly, knowingly. She beckons me to come impossibly closer. “Shhh.” She wheezes. “I’m not leaving you.” She lifts her hand and lets it rest on top of my chest. “I’m in your heart. I'll always be with you.”

She’s still smiling. She smiles so sincerely it breaks me even more. When she closes her eyes, I start screaming again. For her. For help. For anything.

I don’t hear anyone coming in but I’m pushed slightly. She opens her eyes at the commotion around her and our gazes find each other instantly and I lean back in.

“I love you,” are the lasts words she ever hears.

My kiss is the last touch she ever feels.

This is the last time I lock eyes with Lexa. Forever.

***

Present

I slide down the door, my legs unable to support me any longer. I’ve done much better, but now I’m back at the beginning of the end. I’m back and staring at the spot on my floor where I kissed her goodbye, not knowing it would be goodbye forever.

I can’t breathe. The gallery is suffocating me and I contemplate for a moment to let go and just give up. I really think about if it is possible to die this way. Lexa would know. She would give me a detailed answer as to why it is or isn’t feasible. I miss her with every cell of my body, every bone of my skeleton and every synapse of my nerve system. Everything in me is missing her. I’m losing myself in my shattered reality. We wanted to get married. We wanted to adopt fur babies together. We wanted to travel the world together. I wanted my life with Lexa. I still do. I can’t move on. I don’t know how to move on. Moving on seems impossible.

I wonder for the millionth time whether Lexa knew she was dying. I can’t get my head around her last words to me. I can feel the tears and I inhale sharply before pushing off the door and crawling over to where I saw her last. I let myself collapse. “Where are you then?” I scream to no one. “Where are you now?” I yell and cry. “I need you so much.” I sob. “Please come back to me.” I beg. “I need you.” I whisper. I know she’s gone, but I keep begging and praying for her to return to me, like she’d promised.

***

5 months and two weeks and 3 days ago.

I sit on the front bench of the little chapel. I’m alone. Lexa isn’t around anymore. All that is left sits in an urn in the middle of a beautifully decorated table. It was in her testament to be cremated. I had no say in it. We weren’t married, and even if, the written will had the last word. Many things happened to Lexa after she’d died I would not have wanted for her. For me. For us. But it wasn’t for me to decide. Lexa had. I cried for two days after learning of her decisions.

I feel someone quietly sitting down next to me. I don’t look up. I know it’s my mother. She’s crying. For Lexa. For me. For the us which isn’t allowed to be.

“Lexa has been deprived of a beautiful life.” She cries against my shoulder. I nod and exhale loudly, but remain silent. She sits back up and puts her arms around me. She pulls me in and I can’t hold back anymore. I sob uncontrollably. “You have been deprived of the same.”

“I’m a living dead.” I stutter through tears and ragged breaths.

She doesn’t say anything, she just holds me while people enter slowly and quietly to pay their last respects to my lover. I don’t know why, but no one comes over. Maybe my mother sends them away with subtle nods and pleading eyes. I’ll never know. I bury my face into her neck, and claw at her blouse in desperation to ground me. I don’t know how to survive this day. I don’t know how to survive this hour. I don’t have a clue how to survive this minute. But I do. I get through it all. I get through friends saying goodbye to her. I get through my mother saying goodbye to her. I’m still alive when I slowly walk up the few steps and turn to the picture of Lexa next to me. I cry silently. I think I haven’t stopped at all for hours. I take my time. No one moves. I only hear sobs and crying from behind me. I finally face them and I breathe in deeply and exhale slowly before I raise my voice just above a whisper. I’m too weak to give more.

“Lexa was my everything.” I start and stop, my face distorts in pain. I look up at the ceiling praying for strength. “Lexa was my light and my compass. She illuminated the darkness and directed the unknown.” I hear people cry louder and I smile ever so small. I don’t mean to make it harder for anyone attending, but I can’t help it. “Lexa and I met in High School. She was the beautiful whirlwind of energy who instantly swept me off my feet. The pull towards each other was imminent, but we were hesitant because of the depth of it. We kept dancing around each other, put homework and projects between us and kept busy to not have to face what was quite inescapable. At one of the wild parties on the fields between Polis and Arkadia she had been dared to kiss me.” I stop and let my mind wander back to that night. “Lexa had been so nervous. I remember her looking at me in that undecipherable and illegible way, I’m sure some of you had come to get frustrated by.” I can hear a few sounds of confirmation. “Anyway.” I breathe in again fighting the tears. “Her kiss back then and any following since, were a promise of everything. Every time.” I look over to my side and an over the top smiling Lexa looks at me from her photograph and I cry a little more. “I lost more than just a lover.” I say and hold onto the stand for support. “I lost my best friend. I lost my biggest fan. I lost my confident. I lost my partner in crime. I lost my tower of strength. I lost my world.” I sob and I doubt anyone can understand my words. My mother gets up and holds me, hugging me closer to her and finally pushing me down the stairs. I stumble over my legs, but I’m caught between the bench and my mother’s arms.

I look up when I hear the voice of one of Lexa’s closest junior partners Aden. “I’m here to honour my mentor and friend Lexa. I’m going to read a letter which was attached to her testament, so the next words are hers.” He starts and his gaze flickers over to me, and he smiles softly. Just like Lexa always had done to support me. I try a smile, but I’m sure it looks more like a grimace.

“I’m writing this knowing life is short and brutal, but I hope I’m old and wise now you hear this.” He starts again with a calm voice and I let me head crash down into my mother’s chest, a small cry escaped my mouth. She wasn’t old. She’d been 24.

“I never made a secret of my visions and dreams. I always wanted to become rich. Right now, I’m only at the beginning of my adult life, but I have already reached my goal. I’m rich because I found love.”

My mom tightens her arms around me as I’m shaking violently in her embrace.

“I’m happy, so blissfully happy and it’s all due to my soulmate and the best part of me. Clarke, when you read this I’ll be gone, but please know I have loved you with all my being and I still do wherever I am now.”

I don’t really hear the words, my wailing is too loud, but I feel them wrapping around my shaking form and warming me.

“At this point, although I’m young and life has many funny ways to ruin things, I have lived one hundred percent fulfilled with happiness and love. I love you Clarke. I’ll always be with you.”

Aden finishes, his voice breaking. I tense in my mother’s arms remembering Lexa had said those lasts words before she died.

I collapse even more when I hear a soft melody filling the chapel. A female starts to sing and the words pierce me like a knife, cutting me open and making me bleed again.

‘If I could, then I would

I'll go wherever you will go

Way up high or down low

I'll go wherever you will go’

‘And maybe, I'll find out

The way to make it back someday

To watch you, to guide you

Through the darkest of your days’

‘If a great wave shall fall

It'd fall upon us all

Well I hope there's someone out there

Who can bring me back to you.’

I can’t breathe. I don’t want to breathe anymore. I’m out of my seat, up the few steps and hug her picture to my sobbing, breaking heart. I cry. I wail. I scream. The person I've lost was the person I turned to for the majority of my emotional contentment. Now more than ever I realise that I will never be able to turn to her again and be comforted. This thought alone lets me cry out her name unashamedly.  Though what makes it worse is the fact that she is the source of the pain and with her gone I’ll never heal. Her death is killing me. It is the last time her name leaves my mouth. I’m carried out of the chapel.

***

Present

I’m still lying on the floor. I’m still alone and I know I will be for the rest of my life. The beauty of finding your soulmate can turn to hell if you lose them too early. I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. I exhale slowly. It’s been six months. One hundred and eighty-three days. Four thousand, three hundred and ninety-two hours. Without Lexa.

I anxiously lick my lips. I’m afraid of forgetting how her mouth felt against mine. How her body wrapped me up like a safety-blanket. I’m afraid I’ll forget how her voice, her laugh or her sighs sounded. I’m afraid I’ll forget how her hair tickled me in bed. How her fingers ghosted over my body, filled me and lifted me into heaven. I’m afraid I’ll forget how she smelled and how she tasted. I’m afraid of forgetting about her. I can’t forget. I can’t afford to forget. I’d lose her completely. I still love her so incredibly much. I remember the lyrics of the song I’m listening to nearly every night.

How can I say this without breaking
How can I say this without taking over
How can I put it down into words
When it's almost too much for my soul alone

I loved and I loved and I lost you
And it hurts like hell

I press the palms of my hands against my eyelids and will the tears to stop as my head hurts so badly. My heart hurts even more. I fish my phone out of my pocket and press the number two on my speed dial. It rings twice before I hear the voice I need to soothe me this very second.

“Mom.” I choke on my tears. “Mom, it hurts so much.”

“Where are you?”

My mother arrives only ten minutes later to find me on the floor crying and beating my fist into a bloody pulp.

“Oh baby.” She sighs and wraps her hand around mine to stop me from damaging it further. “Oh baby.” She repeats and pulls me into her body. I exhale in relief at the contact and cling to her like I had when we’d had to say goodbye to my father.

“Will it stop?” I mumble into her chest.

“It takes as long as it takes.”

“Has it stopped for you?”

“No.”

We cry together now. I have lost any sense of time. I’m putty in my mother’s arms. She pulls me up and pushes me out of the gallery. We walk the short distance to her car. She drives me home. Her home. She couldn’t bring herself to move either. She refused whenever Lexa and I had tried. I understand her now.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper, unaware she hasn’t been entitled to my thoughts.

“Me too.” She says.

“I’m sorry for pressuring you to move.” I explain.

“I’m sorry for not preparing you for the pain.” She clarifies.

We drive in silence and she helps me upstairs to my childhood bedroom after bandaging my hand. I accept her help to redress for the night. She wraps the duvet around me like she had done when I was small, and presses a kiss against my forehead.

“I saw a woman today on the train.” I start and she only hums, encouraging me to continue. “I had a panic attack and found her eyes and they calmed me.”

“Do you know her?”

“I don’t think so.” I say vaguely and she sits up to look at me.

“What’s going on in your head?”

“I don’t know mom. It was weird.” I let my voice drop at the end, indicating I am done with the conversation.

“If it is important, you’ll find out.” She strokes my cheek and kisses me again. “Try to get some rest baby. Come to me if you need me.”

“I love you mom.”

“I love you too.”

***

When I wake up the next morning I feel shattered. I wasn’t able to sleep. I convince my mother to drive me to work, as sitting alone in my childhood home is a horrifying idea.

“Would it be ok if I stayed with you for a couple of days?” I ask, biting my nails.

“Oh Clarke. You never have to ask. Of course. Do you want me to come and get you when I’m done?”

I only smile and nod. I’m so grateful for my mother. We’ve had our differences, but right now she is the mother I need.

We fall into a routine and I slowly but surely feel stronger. I return to my own home. I sit on the little front porch staring at the car still untouched in the driveway. I remember when we’d moved in and Lexa had managed to pack all her stuff into that very car. It looked like the vehicle would fall apart before making it over. I smile at the memory. It doesn’t hurt as much anymore looking at it. I’m hopeful I’ll be able to drive it soon. Not today though. I get up and make my way to the station.

I get on the train, in the last wagon and my gaze falls immediately on the stranger sitting in my seat. Our roles are reversed as I walk over to the door and lean against it. I feel her eyes following me and I chance a glance at her. She’s wearing her hair down today. It’s wavy but darker. I don’t know why I compare her to Lexa but I do. I also don’t understand why looking at her reminds me of my love. I avert my gaze, trying to slow my racing mind. I can’t look away for long. I feel a familiar pull at my heartstrings and I look up again. She’s next to me. My heart relaxes and calms. It’s magic.

“I’m sorry. I have to ask you. Do you know me?” She whispers and I furrow my brows.

“I was hoping you’d know me.” I say instead.

“I don’t, but also I do.” She keeps rambling on about how she thinks she sounds confusing and doesn’t make any sense, but I understand her perfectly.

“I feel the same.” I put my hand on her shoulder and squeeze her slightly to stir her out of her rambling and big green eyes leave me breathless.

“Why?” I ask at the same time she questions “How?”.

My stop comes up and I look at her apologetically.

“Wait.” She calls out to me when the doors open and pushes a slip of paper into my hand. “Coffee maybe?” She adds when I step off onto the platform. I don’t answer. I just stare at her, watching her through the closing door as the train leaves the station.

Over the next few days I look at the telephone number on the business card more often than I feel I should, contemplating what this might be about. I’m sure the pull I felt was only because she reminded me so much of Lexa. I have no answers why she does though. I doubt I will ever feel again what I felt for Lexa. I can’t. I can’t betray us. We were it. She was it for me. I don’t call her. Instead I go back to my mother’s place for another two weeks to avoid the woman on the train.

I have long conversations with my mom. We spend every free minute together, consoling one another with the shared pain of losing the people who meant the world to us. Who were our worlds. It helps me more than any session I had had with the counsellor in the first three months. Yes, I know I hadn’t been too forthcoming in those scheduled meetings, but I didn’t want to hear stupid phrases like ‘It’ll get better’ or ‘You have to let go of her.’

I know that it won’t get better and I’ll never, ever want to let go of Lexa. Mom understands. She’s still talking to my father occasionally, she reveals. I had no idea and my broken heart breaks further. She tells me how she managed to get up each morning. She talked to him. She pretended he was still there.

“I can’t do that mom. It’ll make me cry and I’ll break every time I remember she’s not here anymore.”

“You need to talk though.” My mother is concerned about me and I can’t soothe her worries. I know I’ll never be the same. I don’t see the need to be. I’m ok being broken.

I tell her eventually about the short conversation I had with the woman on the train. Her name is Natasha the business card reveals. I’m surer than ever I don’t know a Natasha. Mom doesn’t know a Natasha either. It’s a mystery.

“You sure she’s not intrigued by you? I mean, don’t look at me like that.” She says and slaps my arm at my sour expression. “It’s not printed on your forehead what you’ve been through and you’re still a young and beautiful woman.” I cringe. I don’t mean to be beautiful anymore.

“I don’t know mom, but it feels different. A deeper connection.”

***

The enigmatic woman doesn’t leave my conscience and I call her the third week after she gave me her number. We agree to meet.

I’m nervous when I arrive at the coffee shop on a Saturday morning. She’s already there and I settle down on the opposite side. She sits where Lexa would have chosen, I realise.

“Hi.” She greets me in a calm and quiet voice.

“Hi.”

“I don’t know how you like your coffee, but I took the liberty to follow my gut instincts.” She says and pushes over a mug. “White with two sugars?”

My mouth opens but no sounds come out. I gape at her and she smiles. “Was that ok?” She tries once more. I nod and after another moment I manage to press a “How?” through my clenched jaw.

“I don’t know.” She answers. “It felt right when I ordered it.”

This is freaking me out. I feel my hands getting sweaty and I wipe them along my trousers. “I don’t understand.”

She smiles and shrugs at my comment. She doesn’t understand either. We sip our coffees in silence, when an idea forms in my head. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself? Maybe we’ll find out why?” I suggest with a small smile. “Only if you feel comfortable enough.” I add cautiously, as I wouldn’t be happy if the roles were reversed.

“This is the funny thing. You make me feel comfortable.” She smiles and clears her throat before she tells me about her life. Her voice gets strained and she leans back in her seat. Whatever she is about to say, isn’t funny. I brace myself for yet another broken person’s heartache.

“I was diagnosed with a congenital heart defect as a child, but it wasn’t life threatening, so no one did anything. My parents died when I was three, I don’t remember anything about them. I was adopted and moved to the other side of the country.” She stops and sips her coffee again. She continues after a few moments. “I’ve had an awesome life so far.” And her eyes light up and she tells me about her adventures and journeys she’d done and I find myself relaxing again.

“You’ve travelled the world?” I ask incredulously. It had always been my dream to do so with Lexa.

“Yeah and let me tell you, you should do too. I’d be up and gone in a heartbeat, alas I’m not allowed at the moment.” I look at her with my eyebrows raised, asking silently for an explanation. “Well, remember my heart defect? Yeah…” She says, whilst I nod my head. “My body remembered too. About a year ago, I felt breathless whenever I walked anywhere and my heart started hurting in a very physical way.” My features must have changed because she stops and looks at me. “Are you ok?”

I can barely nod, but the question in my head forces its way out through my mouth. “Did you get a heart transplant?”

***

Six months, two weeks and 6 days ago.

“Please don’t do that. Don’t take it off of her. She needs it.”

“Ms Griffin, she won’t though and it’s what she wants.”

It is just past midnight and Lexa is in a coma. I’m told she won’t wake up again, she has lost too much blood and her brain has been damaged. I don’t believe them. I cling to her lifeless body attached to machines breathing oxygen into her lungs. I don’t know they only do that to keep her organs alive.

“No, no, no. You don’t understand. You can’t cut her open. She needs to remain whole! Don’t mutilate her body. Please, she needs it when we get together again!” I cry and yell. I don’t care that they think I’m crazy. The thought of Lexa being cut open makes me sick. I can’t bear the thought of them harvesting her like an animal. I can’t accept it was her wish, but I hold the organ donor pass in my hands. Lexa and I never came around to talk about things like that. I hadn’t had an opportunity to relate my opinion about the afterlife to her. I’m devastated and I have no say at all. I’m only prolonging the unstoppable.

“Listen Ms Griffin. We know this is really hard, but there is a young woman who’s waiting for a heart transplant. They are compatible which is a miracle in itself. You can’t help your friend anymore, but you can help someone else.”

“She’s my everything. I love her. I don’t care about anyone else. Please don’t take her heart. It has loved me. I need it to remain inside of her. It’ll help her wait for me, so she won’t forget me.” My hands are peeled off Lexa’s shirt and I’m carried out of the room. I scream and yell and kick to no avail.

“Please!?” I beg one last time looking at the form of my girlfriend, so small and helpless in the bed. “Please don’t.” I say when the door closes in front of me.

It is the last time I see Lexa.

***

Present

Natasha is quiet at the emotions she sees flickering over my face. I’m sure she sees desperation and anger, anxiety and helplessness and lastly love. I swallow the lump in my throat.

“I think I know why we feel we know each other.” I manage and she tilts her head at my words, curious and grateful. “I think our hearts know each other.”

We sit in silence. We look at the world passing by and sip our coffees.

“Please tell me about her.” She begs after a long moment.

I look up from my empty cup between my hands and fix my gaze on hers. I feel the tears in my eyes pooling and I try desperately to hold them back, before quietly saying something I haven’t in six months, one week and one day. “Her name was Lexa and she was the love of my life.”

My voice breaks and in an instant I feel her arms around me and I let myself be hugged. She holds me without question and lets me cry. It overwhelms me. My feelings are too much.

“She said…” I try and Natasha wipes over my cheek and smiles that small smile which was so Lexa. “She hoped there would be someone out there who could bring her back to me.” I whisper between sobs and look at her. She nods and engulfs me in a tight embrace.

“You know.” She starts, rubbing her free hand over my back to sooth me just like Lexa had always done and I nearly collapse at the thought and the feeling. “Since the operation I’ve felt different. I’ve talked to so many people about it and they just assured me everything was alright and I just feel weird because theoretically I died.”

She shifts a little and looks down at me, making sure I was listening.

“After I recovered I felt a drive and a spirit in me I hadn’t experienced ever before. Again doctors told me it was because I finally had a healthy heart beating in my chest.”

I start crying again. The thought of Lexa’s heart beating underneath my ear blows my mind and I press closer, unable to restrain myself. She lets me without hesitation. Nothing feels strange although we don’t know each other. She has a part of Lexa I longed to be close to. Neither of us questioned this fact.

“Anyway, after I got the green light from my doctors, I moved out of the city. I craved nature all of sudden. I needed air to breathe. Another new thing as I’ve always been comfortable in the confines of the city.”

She laughs and it’s something, which doesn’t remind me of Lexa. Her laughter had been uniquely her. I’m glad I haven’t forgotten the sound of it yet.

“So when I saw you getting on the train that day, I felt the tug in my heart. Well, her heart. I was confused and worried. Doctors told me it would take years for the heart to really settle in my body. I thought I was losing it. Then my eyes met yours and my heartbeat slowed down and one word popped into my brain. ‘Finally.’”

I push out of her embrace and miss the sound of Lexa’s heart immediately. “You mean the day I stared at you when I had a panic attack and all of a sudden your eyes calmed my heart, deepened my breathing and relaxed my whole body?”

We look at each other. This story is unbelievable, yet we both felt it. She feels the belonging and I feel home.

“I have the feeling I know everything I need to know about you. I have the need to protect you and help you. Do you think that’s weird?” She asks after a while.

“No.” I answer truthfully. “Is it weird, that I think I finally found the only person who’ll help me survive without Lexa.”

“No.” She repeats my answer just as convincingly.

“Do you believe in a life after death?” I ask her when she remains quiet. She only shakes her head and I continue. “I believe in soulmates being destined to be together. I believe I’ll find her part of our soul once I’m dead too and we can finally be together again.”

“You want to die soon?” She whispers surprised. I smile.

“I always thought so, but now I’m glad I’m still alive. If I had known her heart was out there searching for me, restlessly, and I was already dead, it would have broken me just as much knowing it’s without it’s other counterpart.” I don’t care if my words make sense. It’s my belief and I cling to it. All of a sudden I’m grateful for Lexa’s decision to donate. She has given me something of hers; has made sure a part of her stays alive.

“I’ll keep her heart safe if you promise you’ll keep yourself safe.” Natasha says.

“I promise for her sake.”

We talk a little more. I tell her about Lexa and Natasha tells me about her future plans.

***

I remember the last time I cried. It was two hours ago. Now I also remember the last time I smiled happily. It was yesterday when I gave Natasha the car. I know how much Lexa had loved it. I now have her heart beating strongly in Natasha’ chest to be close to.

I remember the last time I felt happiness erupt inside of me. It was last week when mom and I went to get a puppy. I called her Alexa and she licked my face.

I can’t remember the last time I was fulfilled with happiness, but I have accepted the challenge and I do everything to make Lexa proud.

The world I used to know fell apart nine months ago. Two hundred and seventy-six days. Six thousand, six hundred and twenty-four hours.

I’m guided by Lexa’s heart once more. Natasha is my best friend, my torch and my map, but I don’t think I’ll love again. The love I’ve experienced once may have been short and brief, but it was also all-encompassing and eternal. I’m grateful for its existence, as without her I would have never been loved and have loved in return.