Chapter 19 - THE HEART THAT KEPT BEATING
At forty-six, Luca woke before sunrise.
The age his father died.
He lay beside Rachel.
Listening.
Not for enemies.
His own heart.
Steady.
He touched the device beneath his skin.
Dr. Bennett had replaced the generator once already.
Medication changed.
Exercise carefully managed.
Stress controlled.
He was alive.
Rachel opened one eye.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re being dramatic at six in the morning.”
“I’m forty-six.”
She understood.
Rachel sat up.
“Your father died at forty-six.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
Luca looked toward the window.
“I thought this age was a wall.”
Rachel touched his face.
“It’s a number.”
“Dr. Bennett would say statistically—”
“If you quote your cardiologist in bed, I’m divorcing you.”
He laughed.
Then Emma burst through the door.
At fourteen, she had apparently forgotten knocking.
“Happy birthday.”
She threw a folder at him.
Luca caught it.
Inside were drawings.
Every father picture she had ever made.
Rachel had saved them.
The first:
No face.
Then eyebrows.
Then nose.
Then scratchy beard.
Robot heart.
Prison ears.
Restaurant.
Wedding.
Concert.
School graduation.
Ordinary scenes.
The face changed slightly as Emma grew better at drawing.
But it was always him.
The final page was blank.
Luca looked at her.
“What is this?”
“For later.”
“Later what?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s comforting.”
Emma rolled her eyes.
“You’re not dying today.”
Luca stared.
Rachel had told her about his anxiety around the age.
Emma sat on the bed.
“Grandpa died because he didn’t get help.”
Luca nodded.
“You did.”
“Yes.”
“He hid.”
“Yes.”
“You stopped.”
Mostly.
Emma looked at him.
“So stop acting like his ending is yours.”
Fourteen-year-old wisdom delivered with irritation.
Luca laughed.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She pointed.
“Also breakfast.”
“Now?”
“It’s your birthday.”
“You’re ordering me to cook?”
“You’re Italian.”
Rachel laughed so hard she almost fell over.
Luca made breakfast.
His heart kept beating.
Not because he had defeated death.
May you like
Nobody did.
Because he finally stopped treating mortality as a reason to hide from life.
