Page 97 of The Compass Series

AALIYAH

F or the next few days, Connor and I woke up making love, and we fell asleep doing the same. We switched back and forth with whose bedroom we’d fall into, and sometimes it just ended up happening on the kitchen countertop. Or the living room sofa. Or the rooftop.

That was my favorite, the wind blowing against our warm flesh as he drove deep inside me, the moon shining bright as he made me weak in my knees.

My favorite thing about the way our bodies fell together was how he made it both gentle and hard.

Soft and rough, kind and dangerous. I loved how he inhaled my entire existence.

Even though there were times I thought I’d fade away from overexerting myself, I didn’t even care because it felt so good with him inside me.

He made love to me as if it was both the first and last time.

Therefore, that meant every single session quickly became the best sex I’d ever had.

He never stopped until I got off multiple times, too.

It must’ve been that Southern gentleman in him because he always made sure I came first. Ladies first.

I always returned the favor.

I didn’t know it was possible—having two humans both end up fulfilled.

It felt as if I were living in a dream world, but sadly, every dream had to come to an end.

One morning, Connor had an early conference call, so I woke up in bed alone. I woke up in pain. It wasn’t out of the blue. I knew over the past few weeks my symptoms were building up.

I was more tired than normal. Walking short distances winded me.

My ankles were swelling again. Connor even noticed the swelling, but I blamed it on wearing a pair of heels all day at work.

He gave me ankle massages, and when he’d fall asleep at night, I’d cry thinking about how seriously wrong I’d been feeling.

I just needed a little bit more time.

I had a doctor’s appointment coming up after my trip to Kentucky, so I was doing my best to push through. To enjoy the current moments of happiness with Connor. To live. To pretend for a while that my life was normal.

Yet that morning, I couldn’t continue lying to myself.

My body ached, and my head was clouded. The chills that found me were the worst part. I could hardly sit up in bed. Every little movement I made felt as if someone was slamming into me.

“No,” I whispered to myself, unable to open my eyes because that brought about another wave of dizzy spells.

Time.

Just give me a little bit more time.

Connor and I were supposed to fly out to Kentucky soon, and I didn’t want to cancel the trip.

Not only was it important for the article I was writing but it was also important to me.

I wanted to see him in his hometown, wanted to meet the people he grew up with, and I wanted to walk the streets that raised him. I couldn’t miss it.

I placed my hands on the edge of my bed and pulled myself up to a sitting position.

As my feet hit the wooden floor, I groaned.

Everything hurt. I knew most people couldn’t understand that level of pain, but just sitting up felt like the ultimate chore to me.

I wanted to crawl back into a ball and sob.

The pain’s intensity made it hard to even breathe in a normal pattern.

“You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay,” I repeated to myself, borrowing the words Connor had given to me time and time again over the past few weeks. Even though I said the words, the aches made them feel unrealistic.

I tried to push myself up from the mattress, but I failed. I felt weak, tired. So very tired. Tears formed in the backs of my eyes as they remained shut, and they slowly began to fall down my cheeks.

“You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay,” I repeated, feeling as if I were going to vomit from the way my mind spun.

I began coughing into my hand, trying to clear my throat. Trying to make a passageway for more air to inflate within my lungs.

I hated this. I hated my heart and how it was quitting on me. I hated that I’d gone so long feeling good, only to have my life turn upside down in the span of two years. I hated that the good days always made the bad ones feel like complete hell.

I hated knowing that more bad days were on their way.

Time.

I need more time.

I was going to be nauseous. It was only a matter of time before I was hugging the toilet seat. The spinning in my head made that painfully clear. The last thing I wanted to do was throw up as Connor was in his office having a meeting.

Connor.

Time.

We needed more time.

To my surprise, he came into the bedroom with a big smile on his face.

In one hand, he had a box, and in the other, he had a green drink.

“Morning, sunshine. I finished my meeting early and ran down the street to get you some breakfast. I know you’re healthier than me, so I got you a green drink and an omelet. ”

The thought of eating anything at that moment made my stomach turn in a way stomachs shouldn’t be able to turn.

The second he caught sight of me, a heavy look of worry filled his face. “Aaliyah, what’s wrong?”

I must’ve looked hideous.

“Hey there,” I said, thinking I’d head over to thank him, but instead, I began to experience a dizzy spell as I attempted to walk. Connor hurriedly set the box and drink on the dresser and rushed to help me stand.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“Don’t be,” he replied, lowering me back down to the bed. He then kneeled in front of me, looking as perfect as he always did. Christ, I felt so embarrassed. If I looked anywhere near as bad as I felt, he probably thought I was on the verge of death.

Maybe I was.

“What happened?” he asked. “What can I do?”

“Nothing, nothing, it’s fine. I just woke up feeling a bit off. That’s all.” I didn’t want to go into the full scope of what was really happening. It all seemed too much, and the last thing I wanted from Connor was for him to worry about me.

He rolled up his sleeves and walked toward the bathroom. Within seconds, he came out with a warm hand towel and placed it on my forehead.

The warmth it brought me soothed me more than I’d thought it would as I kept my eyes shut. “Thanks,” I said, trying my hardest not to cry. “It’s probably just a cold.”

“We were in the rain a few days ago for a long period. Damn. I should’ve taken you inside. This is my fault.”

“No. It’s not. Trust me.”

“Regardless, I think it might be best to stay in today, get better fully. When I get a cold, I get knocked on my ass like no other, so I completely fall into sick mode and disconnect from the world until I’m better.”

If only it was that easy for me.

“I’ll rest up today, and I’ll be better by morning,” I said as I began to push myself to a better sitting position.

Instead of being successful with that, my vision blurred, and I found myself rushing to the bathroom, where I threw up.

The pounding in my head was too intense.

Not only was I falling apart, but I was falling apart in front of Connor, which made it that much worse.

By this point, I felt as if he’d seen me at my worst a lot more than at my best.

Still, he stayed, joining me in the bathroom, holding my braids back.

“Maybe it was something you ate last night? Maybe something bad with that salad you ordered? If it’s a bad cold, maybe we need to shift our flights?—”

“No!” I quickly said, shaking my head. “Don’t. I’ll be fine, I swear, Connor. By tomorrow I’ll be my normal self.”

“I can stay home with you today.”

I sat up a bit and forced a smile. “No, truly, it’s okay. I know you have a lot of work. Really, Connor. I’m good.”

He was hesitant, but he agreed. He helped me back to the bed, making sure to tuck me in. “If you need anything, just call me—even if it’s just to talk. I’ll answer.”

“Thanks.”

He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “Feel better, Red.”

“Will do.”

The moment he left for work, I went ahead and called my doctor.

“I’m sure it’s just a cold,” I explained to Dr. Erickson as I sat in his office. “I made a mistake and got caught in the rain a few days ago, so I’m sure my body is just fighting off the virus.” At least that was the lie I’d been telling myself over the past few days.

I could see the concern in Dr. Erickson’s eyes after he ran some tests. The worry on his face made me realize the fear I’d been running from was catching up with me. The medicine wasn’t enough to keep me going anymore. My body wasn’t working the way it needed to in order to function.

“Sadly, Aaliyah, it’s not just a cold.”

He pulled up a chair beside me and gave me a broken smile as he took off his glasses for a moment and pinched his nose. “Unfortunately, it appears everything we’ve been doing has run its course. It’s time we get more aggressive with treatment and switch gears.”

“You mean surgery?”

“With your condition, a surgical procedure is too much of a risk. We need to move forward with a heart transplant. It is the only option available at this time. Without it…” His words faltered, and he gave me another fake smile.

“You’re getting higher on the transplant list. Your time could be coming any day. ”

“Any day, or any week? Or months? Or years…?” I said, knowing I’d already been waiting on that list for the longest time. It had been over three hundred days since I’d been placed on the transplant list, and nothing had come from it.

“You know it’s impossible to say, Aaliyah, but you are coming up close.

For the time being, we do need to keep your health up the best we can.

I have a few new medications we need to get going in your system.

The next step also might be hospitalization up until the point where we can get you a transplant because?—”

“Wait, no.” He raised a confused brow as I shook my head. “I have a trip to Kentucky coming up. I am flying down there in a few days.”