September 2015
In a clinic on the outskirts of Miami, a young girl of seventeen lie unconscious and oblivious to her current situation. Machines were attached to her body to monitor her vital signs while her caretakers kept tabs on her bloodwork. The IV in her arm was being inspected by a middle-aged doctor. Once he was satisfied all was well, he brushed a few strands of hair from her face. "Such a pretty thing," he muttered to himself.
A light knock jarred him from his thoughts bringing his attention to the elderly nurse who had just enter with a chart in her hands. "Dr. Namora, we got the results back. She's a perfect match."
"Good. Just as expected. Let's get started right away."
"Yessir. I'll see she gets prepped immediately."
He turned his attention the unconscious girl. "I knew you were the right girl, little one. Don't worry. You won't remember any of this." He returned to his office while the nurse prepped the girl for surgery. He needed to make an important phone call. The call was answered within two rings. "She's a match. She's being prepped as we speak... Yessir... As soon as we get the marrow extracted, we will send it over. You're welcome, sir... Cash please. Yessir. Goodbye." Hanging up the phone he pressed the intercom button to call his secretary.
"Yessir?" she answered.
"Register Jane Doe's information in the system." He instructed as he thumbed through the girl's file.
"In the system, sir? I thought she was just a marrow donor."
"She was."
"Yessir. Understood sir. I'll do it right away."
*
Today
'As the weeks passed, Jason and I managed to keep our mental cohabitation a secret from everyone, though there were times when I would accidentally 'take over' and do something embarrassing. Just yesterday I freaked out over a spider and before I knew it I had Jason standing on the kitchen counter squealing in terror as his wife just looked at him like he had lost his mind. I felt bad, really, but in my defense the spider was pretty big.'
'You needed a microscope to see it! For crying out loud!'
'It was huge!!'
'Whatever. Just stop using me like that. It's creepy.'
'I told you, already. I don't know how I'm doing it. It just happens.' So today we are in the studio to record a Christmas album which is weird because it's only July. It's kinda hard to get in the mood and sing about Santa and snow when it's a thousand degrees outside but her we are... 'sigh'
"I see you've made the song list. Good choices, though I had hoped for an original from you this year." His manager Steve said as he ushered Jason into the sound booth.
"Yeah, well. Surgery and all..."
"Yeah, yeah. I understand. We still a have few weeks of recording to do for this project so you still have a chance... Hint, hint."
"Hint taken. We'll see how it goes. Let's just work on these for now." He walked in the sound room with some of his band members. As they were greeting him, I laid my eyes on the violin sitting in the corner. "Oh my gosh! Is that a Cremona?!" He immediately slapped his hand over his mouth as I felt the panic rise in his pulse.
'Shoot, did it again? Sorry.'
"Yes, it is." His bandmate replied. "Since when do you know anything about violins, Mr. I-Only-Play-Guitar-And-Violins-Are-For-Girls?"
'You seriously said that? I'm offended! Hmpf'
"Um... well..." 'Help me out here, Jessica.' He pleaded.
'Why should I?'
'Because you were the one to blurt that out just now!'
'Fine. On one condition.'
'What?'
'Let me play it.'
'Fine...' "Um, well. I've recently taken an interest in it. May I?" He asked reaching for the instrument.
"Seriously?" The man asked.
"Yeah."
"But you don't play." He argued.
"I know. I'm just a bit curious. Please?" The man relented and handed the instrument to Jason. 'Show what you can do.'
I could feel the violin in his hands as if it were in mine. It's smooth wood and taut strings brought back so many memories of my childhood with my father that it nearly choked me up. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I raised the instrument to my chin. 'I'll play the first song my dad ever taught me, which just happens to be a Christmas song.' With that I glided the bow across the strings. O Come, O Come Emmanuel; the first song I had ever learned to play on the violin. I allowed myself to get lost in the melody as the notes filled the air around us. Images of my father flooded my mind. He is the one who taught me to play. He bought me my first violin when I was four and when I was sixteen, he gifted me my very own Cremona that I played at my Christmas recital that year. Oh, how I loved that violin. And how I miss my dad.
As the song came to a close, I felt my cheeks were wet, presumably from my tears since I'm sure Jason has never cried a day in his life. 'I'm sorry,' I whimpered to him. Jason returned the violin to his very stunned-to-silence bandmate and excused himself from the room.
"What the hell?" I heard the man call after Jason. "Hold up, man. Seriously!" he grabbed Jason's shoulder and spun him around. "Where the hell did you learn to play?!"
"Yeah, man. That was wicked good!" Another bandmate exclaimed.
"We should have recorded that for the album!"
Jason looked at his friends wide-eyed and apologetic. "That was just dumb luck. I don't think I could it again."
"C'mon man; that was too good be dumb luck. That sounded like a pro if'n I ever heard one."
Jason sighed in frustration. How could explain that it wasn't actually him that played the song, but a seventeen-old-girl living inside of him. He shook his head pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look," He sighed. "I'm suddenly not feeling very well. Can we maybe postpone until tomorrow or something?" Without waiting for an answer, he turned and left the studio. Tears streamed down his face all the way home and continued into the evening when his wife arrived home.
She came up behind him and placed her hand on his shoulder. "I got rather interesting call from Luke today. Something about a violin and..." He turned and wrapped his arms around her and sobbed into her embrace, silencing her in mid-sentence. "I think it's far past the time to talk to me." She urged.
She squatted down to be at eye level with him. "I'm not leaving you alone this time. Talk to me." She pleaded. "You're not your usual self. I know you're hiding something from me. You hardly talk to me. You don't touch me anymore."
"No, it's not like that. I love you. Only you. I just don't... I can't..." 'I want to tell her everything. I'm afraid I will lose her if I don't.'
'But she'll think...'
"Can't what, Jason? What can't you do?"
I let out a deep breath. "I'm scared." I confessed.
'Me too.' He admitted.
At the same time his wife said, "Of what?"
'I was loud again. At this rate, she'll figure out on her own. Okay, Jason. Go ahead. Tell her about me.'
"You're gonna think I'm crazy." He bowed his head.
"I already think you're crazy, Dear." She smiled at him mischievously. "When my husband, who hates pancakes with a passion, decides to eat them for breakfast every morning since your heart surgery, I started to wonder. Then I hear from Luke and Ray that my 'Violins-Are-For-Girls' man got excited over a Cremona violin and then played said instrument like a professional. Top that with the fact that my 'Can't-Ever-Get-Enough' lover hasn't so much as even try to kiss me at all. What else am I to think, Jason?"
"I'm sorry," he whimpered. "I don't mean to..."
"Just tell me what's going on, Jason. No matter how crazy it sounds. Just talk to me." She pleaded.
He dropped his shoulders in defeat. "Okay. Come with me." He led her to the study and turned on his computer. "Her name is Jessica Marie Kinsford."
"Whose name is Jessica?" Sarah demanded accusingly.
"My heart." He said flatly. "That's my heart donor's name."
"How did you find that out?"
"Please, Dear. Finish listening first, then I'll answer your questions, okay?" He waited for her nod of approval before continuing. "Her name is Jessica. A seventeen-year-old high school student from Miami. She's bilingual, proficient in violin, piano and flute. She was Homecoming Queen, Volleyball Captain and set to be valedictorian of her class." He clicked through to her social media page to show his wife the girl in question. He turned the monitor so she could get a good look at the sweet young, dark-haired girl. "She went missing last year and all the news I could find still lists her as missing which means her family doesn't know she's already..." He choked back the tears as he stared into Jessica's ebony eyes on the screen. "I don't how to explain it but I she's in my head. I hear voice. I feel what she feels and know what she knows."
"What are you saying?"
"It's her. She's the one afraid of spiders. She's the one that likes those nasty pancakes for breakfast every day. She's the one that played the violin today in the studio. It wasn't me."
"So she's the reason you..."
"Don't touch you. Yes. She's scared. She keeps saying she'll try to let us be together, but she's never been with anyone like that before and you being a girl..."
"Well, I should hope I'm a girl! Otherwise, you'd be gay." She giggled.
"Very funny. But that's her thought about you."
She pursed he lips as she stared at him. I could see the wheels turning but couldn't figure out what her ultimate reaction was going to be. 'Seems to be taking fairly well,' I mused.
"So, let me get this straight. The heart you received came from a seventeen-year-old girl. A missing person at that."
"Yes."
"And you only know this because this girl now lives in your head and has told you?"
"Yes."
"Did you talk to your doctor about this?"
"I asked about the donor. He just said it was an anonymous donation."
"I see. So, he doesn't know that you think it came from this missing girl?"
"No, he doesn't. He may not know where it came from."
She patted his head. "You should've told me sooner. I could have been helping you."
"Helping me? You can help control the girl in my head?"
"No silly. Did you forget what I do?"
His eyes widened. 'Oh, yeah!'
'Oh, yeah, what?' I demanded. 'What does she do?'
She reached for the keyboard, and I few clicks she had sent the girl's social media information to her private email. "Maybe if we find out what happened to her, she'll be able to let go of the heart."
"You think it's possible?" 'You would want that wouldn't you?' He asked me.
'Yes, I would.' But part would be sad to say goodbye. I've gotten used to being with Jason.