Seth cuts his eyes down, following the faint vertical line along his chest. He lifts a hand to trace along the scar with a finger. His mechanical heart is working away, pressing minute vibrations against the pad of his finger. Seth presses a palm down, convinced he can feel the pieces moving together.
Joan made this heart. It’s a part of her as much as it is a part of him. Five months ago, that would have terrified him. Now, with therapy and the loving support of his friends and pseudo family, he was starting to revel in it. Joan had made this heart with love and, if he concentrates, Seth can feel the emotion like a tangible force.
He meets his own eyes in the mirror. In the very bottom corner is a pale white foot, so different from his own. He can only just glimpse the toes, hanging as they are off the side of the bed. He thinks fleetingly of Hailey, the pictures he has of her carefully hidden away. Remembering her is like a fond ache rather than a yawning chasm. He thinks she’d be happy for him, wherever she is. Thinks she would understand. He thinks as well of Ben, his best friend of whom he sees so much of in his sister and yet so little. Had Ben been alive, Seth would have sought his blessing. He likes to imagine Ben would have granted it and then some.
Maybe it really is his eyes. They’re clear now. Happy. Seth can see the heart that beats mechanically behind them. The heart the woman he loves crafted him with her own two hands. The heart that allows him to love her at all.
The foot in the frame shifts, retreating from view. Seth fingers the box in his pocket, shoots himself a secret smile. Somehow, despite it all, he isn’t worried.
He knows she’ll say yes.
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