Wholehearted

Chapter 1: A Hole in the Wall of the Heart Tina Harper reached for her girlfriend’s hand in the hospital bed. A friend would hold another friend’s hand, right? At a serious time like this? She knew Bonnie wasn’t out to the family that surrounded them, but this was a normal gesture that wouldn’t cross any lines. Bonnie squeezed Tina’s fingers, her eyes full of unspoken emotions. “Sweetie, don’t you think it’s time for your friend to take a break?” Bonnie’s mother said, giving Tina a pointed, unfriendly glance and letting the word friend twist around her tongue. “This is a moment for family,” she continued. “Don’t you think?” Tina stiffened, snatching her hand away from Bonnie without meaning to. She couldn’t help waiting a beat for Bonnie to defend her, for Bonnie to tell her mother that they loved each other and had been dating since the first week of college. Her girlfriend stayed silent, though. Tina took a deep breath and forced herself to smile at Bonnie’s mother, father, aunt, and younger brothers. She muttered a goodbye, turned on one heel, and stalked out of the room. She knew Bonnie was suffering. Having the college health clinic suddenly discover that Bonnie had been born with a hole in the wall of her heart—and could have died from it anytime up until now—had to be terrifying in itself. But Bonnie had also never been able to be herself around her family, and it had been two years since she’d talked to any of them. Having them appear now seemed like a mixed bag. Tina ached to be there for Bonnie, to listen to her as she worked through these things. She didn’t want to cause any drama of her own at a time like this. On the other hand, she couldn’t stop the tears that had begun to flow down the sides of her face. The last thing she wanted was to “take a break.” She wanted to be by Bonnie’s side at every possible moment, not be reminded that she wasn’t technically Bonnie’s family, not be treated as a weirdly close friend. Tina loved Bonnie Deluca. She was the person who actually saw her and spent time with her. She had driven Bonnie to the hospital from the clinic for the initial tests. She had filled a flash drive with Bonnie’s favorite shows so she wouldn’t feel lonely in the quiet when visiting hours were over. She had emailed Bonnie’s professors and friends to let them know what was going on (the college nurse, for better or for worse, had taken care of getting in touch with Bonnie’s family). She didn’t want to burden Bonnie with her own feelings right now, but it hurt to get kicked out of the hospital room. It hurt especially to think of how differently Bonnie’s family might be reacting to her if she was a boyfriend, not a girlfriend. It hurt to have to wonder exactly what about herself bothered them so much. Were they upset because they could see that Tina and Bonnie were more than friends, even though Bonnie hadn’t told them so directly? Or did they dislike Tina just for being queer and having the haircut to match? Or maybe the spice of racism flavored their homophobia, and what really bothered them was that Tina had inherited her father’s Afro-Caribbean hair texture, even though also being part white and Asian meant her skin was barely brown at all. Or maybe she was seeing social justice stuff when it wasn’t really there and they would have been just as unwelcoming to a blue-eyed white boyfriend they hadn’t met before. That familiar mental loop—trying to decide if she was really experiencing prejudice, then worrying about being oversensitive, then hurting again from what really seemed like prejudice—made her feel awful, and it made it even harder to deal with the reality of what was happening to Bonnie. It made Tina want to scream to think about it all. It made her feel bad for being selfish. It reminded her that right now she was wandering the hallways of a hospital while her girlfriend was alone with a heart defect and a family she didn’t trust. Tina headed toward the cafeteria. Not that she was hungry exactly. She just needed something to do with herself, particularly with her hands. She’d already picked her fingernails to the quick while leaning awkwardly against one wall of the hospital room, trying to make nice with Bonnie’s family. Also, she needed something to do with her mouth. The words she hadn’t said burned her tongue, and anytime she thought of Bonnie’s mother she ground her teeth so hard her jaw hurt. She reached the entrance to the cafeteria and abruptly stopped walking. Why did hospital cafeterias always smell so weird? Tina remembered that smell—of boiled-over soup, mixed with fried chicken, mixed with something sharper and more medical—from the hospital she’d sat in at thirteen while her grandfather was dying. Six years had passed since then, but that smell took her right back. It made her feel small and lost and helpless, even though she was legally an adult now, and Bonnie’s condition was treatable, not terminal like her grandpa’s had been. Bonnie is not going to die, Tina told herself fiercely. She was mostly sure of that, but only mostly. A lump leaped into her throat as soon as she had that thought, and she closed her eyes hard to stop them from producing tears. Keep moving. Tina grabbed a tray from a rack next to the doorway and started hunting for whatever food seemed least disgusting. She didn’t know when Bonnie’s family would consider it appropriate for her to go back to the hospital room. As she spooned a floppy-looking vegetable medley onto her tray, Tina glanced at the clock. It was six now, and general visiting hours closed at eight. She clutched the serving spoon harder. The backpack she wore seemed to get even heavier. She’d brought books and homework, but she didn’t want to look at or even think about them. Tina felt over her head and confused about what to do. Should she just give up for the day and go home? They were still doing lots of tests on Bonnie. The doctor had said earlier that they’d probably need to keep her overnight again. On the other hand, the thought of leaving before she had to made Tina’s stomach twist. What if there was news? What if Bonnie needed her? She paid for the floppy vegetables and sat in a back corner of the cafeteria, directly under the blaring television so she wouldn’t have to look at it. She flipped through messages on her phone—their friends from school were being really supportive—and took a couple of halfhearted bites. Before long, Tina gave in to temptation and opened up the photos on Bonnie’s f*******: page. They were sophomores now, and the past year and change had given them plenty of time to totally intertwine their lives. There were dozens of shots of them together, all over Alabama it seemed, laughing with friends, arms around each other, kissing. Being together. Tina lingered over one picture a friend had taken at Dauphin Island. Bonnie was looking out toward the gulf, her long dark hair blown across her face and partially screening her dimpled smile. Tina was looking in a totally different direction, smiling to herself. On the surface, they didn’t seem to be paying attention to each other. The shorter Bonnie, however, was nestled cozily against Tina’s side. Tina’s arm wrapped around her casually but sweetly. Bonnie had reached up to clasp Tina’s forearm with one hand. Tina couldn’t stop looking at that hand. She and Bonnie probably hadn’t thought anything of the touch at the time. It had been just another small, affectionate touch, the kind they shared many times a day. Now, it filled her eyes with tears to see it. What if something did go wrong and Bonnie died? Then Tina would never have that touch again. She wished she’d paid more attention in that moment on Dauphin Island. Why had she been looking away? What could possibly have been more important than Bonnie’s face? Then there was the more immediate pain. With Bonnie’s family around, Tina couldn’t take that touch for granted anymore. She couldn’t just reach for Bonnie thoughtlessly. Every gesture had to be calculated now. Sometimes, as had happened the moment Bonnie’s mother had thrown her out of the hospital room, she’d inevitably calculate wrong. She continued eating mechanically, her thoughts too swirling and chaotic for her to make any sense of them. She finished the vegetables and made a few more eating motions before she noticed there wasn’t anything on her fork. She answered messages from some of her closest friends and sent a longer message to her sister in Charleston, explaining Bonnie’s situation, talking about how it made her think of their grandpa, and confessing how Bonnie’s family was making her feel. Tina trusted her sister to understand her feelings without deciding she was selfish for having them. Then the phone buzzed. Tina squinted at the screen. Bonnie wasn’t supposed to be using her phone in the hospital room, was she? Tina thought there was some rule about how the phone might disrupt nearby machines or something. Her heart pounded as she thumbed the message open. They’re gone, Bonnie had written. Please come back as soon as you can. I have to talk to you about something. Tina was on her feet and out the door so quickly, she barely remembered to return the tray.