The Forgetting Read Online Free Page B

surround myself with the noise of my life and drown out the sound of the Catch. I couldn’t stay in the hospital another minute or I’d lose myself.
    â€œThen tell me what’s up.”
    â€œOkay.” I toyed with a loose thread in my sheets. “I keep feeling this…thing. It’s sort of in between my heartbeats. Like a…a catch or something.” She didn’t say anything so I shook my head. “Forget it. It’s probably just in my head.”
    â€œLet me take your pulse.” Maureen picked up my wrist and counted my pulse against her watch. Her yoga beads brushed my skin. A gentle, calming heat emanated from them. After a minute, she set my hand down. “Your pulse is good. Strong. Steady.”
    â€œI’m sure I’m just imagining it.”
    Maureen tapped her finger on the side rail of my bed. “Maybe. Or…maybe not.”
    I furrowed my brow. “What does that mean?”
    She pressed her mouth into a thin line. When she spoke, it was deliberate, like she was thinking a lot about what she was saying. “Some transplant recipients say they can feel the organ of their donor, that it feels…different. Like it’s slightly out of step with the rest of their body.”
    I sat up a little straighter. “Exactly like that! Does that mean something’s wrong?”
    â€œNo,” Maureen said firmly. “But you do have someone else’s heart in place of yours now.” She sat down in the chair closest to the bed and rested her forearms on the rail. “The human body is a marvelous piece of machinery. It’s designed to work beautifully together. And it does, when everything is working right. Then something goes wrong with one part, and the machine fails.
    â€œYou can replace that one part and the machine will work again. That’s science, and it’s amazing what science can do.” Her lips curved into a half-smile. “But there’s something beyond science. Call it God or mystery or whatever you want. It’s the metaphysical. And I think that’s what happens after an organ transplant. Some part of your donor was imprinted on her heart, and now that’s inside of you.”
    I shivered. So I was a different person now. “Who was she?” I whispered.
    Maureen shook her head. “I can’t tell you that.”
    â€œIf part of her is imprinted inside of me, I have a right to know.”
    â€œGeorgie, there are rules—”
    â€œPlease.”
    Her features softened. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t tell you.” She looked over her shoulder and leaned in closer to me. “I really can’t,” she said, her voice so quiet it was barely there, “because she was a Jane Doe.”
    My breath froze somewhere between my throat and my mouth. A Jane Doe? As in, unidentified? What kind of person was so alone in this world that no one claimed her, even in death? A lost girl…
    Maureen rose from the chair and perched herself on the side of the bed. “Listen, I need to take your blood pressure again, and it needs to be in the realm of normal before I can let you leave. You can’t reach for your oboe every time you feel anxious, so let’s try this.” She put both her hands over her heart and moved them in small circles. “There’s a word in Sanskrit— sukha . It means sweetness. Close your eyes and just imagine sweetness flowing in and out of your heart.”
    I rolled my eyes. “Is this some yoga thing?”
    â€œYes, and it’s been known to work. Just try it.”
    With an exaggerated sigh, I closed my eyes and put my hands over my heart. The warmth of my palms seemed to sink through the layers of skin and bone that separated them from the heart within. After a minute, I felt Maureen gently wrap the band around my arm. I kept up the motion until the machine beeped. I opened my eyes. “One-thirty over eighty-five,” she