“What can I do? I don’t know what to do.”
“Go back to L.A. and build a life there.”
“I feel like you’re breaking up with me.”
She sniffled and shook her head. “Please, let me go.”
“I can’t. Please don’t do this,” I pleaded.
“It’s not forever.”
“It could be.”
She pulled out of my embrace and squared her shoulders and jutted her chin out at me. “One year.”
“I’ll stalk you,” I said.
She laughed and then started crying again. “One year,” she whispered this time, looking pained. She leaned up on her toes and kissed me. Her mouth stayed closed but she let her lips rest on mine for more than a few seconds, and then she was gone.
CHAPTER 25
The Letters
July 14, 2010
Dear Ava,
It’s been about a month since I last saw you in front of your mother’s apartment but it feels like a decade. You said no emails or phone calls but you said nothing about letters so . . . I want to give you the space you need but my heart aches for you and writing to you makes me feel like our connection is still real.
I came back to Montana to my empty, cold little house. The geese on the lake were still making a mess but at least they were honking loud enough to drown out my inner thoughts. Before I met you all I thought about was work. Now all I think about is life outside of work, though I don’t have much of one.
I’ve been to the ranch a few times. In fact, I’ve brought Shine and Tequila to my place. They graze in the meadow and sometimes I take Tequila for long rides. Shine still needs work but Trish has been coming down and helping with that. My mom came out to stay with me last week. She’s like you in a lot of ways. Warm and caring, but deep down she’s a firecracker. She wished she had gotten a chance to meet you. I talked about you non-stop. I know I won’t stay here much longer. I’ve already let the hospital know and I’ve mentioned to my dad that I might want to move back to L.A. before the end of the year.
I’m scared to make decisions because you’re not here. I just have to trust that you’re feeling the same way. I went to the hot spring today alone and then I rode back to the ranch. The wind in my ears sounded like your voice, for some reason. It reminded me of you, but then again everything reminds me of you. Nate.
———
August 14, 2010
Dear Ava,
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.