Alison Strobel - The Heart of Memory

Deciding then and there to be completely transparent, Savannah said, “Actually, I’d prefer that we didn’t.”

Rose didn’t even blink, but instead pointed to the sandwich in front of Savannah and said, “Turkey and swiss. I hope that’s alright. I didn’t even think to get your order when we were on the phone.”

“That’s perfect. Thank you.”

“So you had your transplant back in August, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Is the reason you’re here today related to that?”

“I think so, yes.”

“I don’t have any first-hand experience counseling people who have gone through transplants, just so you know. I’ve read case studies in the past, but nothing recent.”

“That’s alright. From what I gather the things I’m experiencing aren’t very common, so I don’t know how much help extra experience would have been for you anyway.”

Rose’s eyebrows arched. “Well, now I’m curious. Do tell.”

So she did, trying not to gloss over anything as often happened when telling a story for a second time in a day. Rose nodded along as she ate and listened, and when she finished Savannah sat back and gestured with her soda in a “voila” kind of way. “I don’t need to tell you how devastating this is to my entire life, Rose. I need to figure out what’s happened, and get it fixed.”

Rose dabbed her mouth with a napkin, then sat back and gave Savannah the answer she’d been hoping not to hear. “I don’t know what to tell you, honey. I agree it doesn’t sound like depression, though. I’ve never heard of this kind of a reaction to a transplant, but I can tell you that God created us in such a way as for all our facets to be integrated-the physical affects the emotional and the spiritual, and vise versa. You sound pretty well-versed in the basics of the emotional effects, but I’m just as clueless as you when it comes to the spiritual. If you don’t mind, I’d like to consult with a few other professionals who might have a little more experience with this, see what they have to say. I won’t use your name, of course.”

Savannah nodded, though her spirits sank. “That would be fine, Rose. I appreciate your trying to help.”

“Of course, honey. Just wish I could offer you more right now.”

Savannah gave her a small smile. “Me too.”

BACK AT HOME, SAVANNAH DECIDED it was time to pull out the big guns. It wasn’t the approach Shaun was likely to approve of, but it was the only option left she could think of. She wasn’t about to waste her time bouncing from clueless therapist to clueless therapist, rehashing her personal life over and over and getting the same response. She needed to talk to someone who had lived through at least some of what she was experiencing. She woke her computer and brought up a search engine, then typed in the name of her old college roommate, her former best friend, the woman she hadn’t talked to in twenty years. Tabitha Vaughn.

Google returned only seven pages of links. She scanned the first page, then the second, wondering if she should save herself some time and trouble and just pay for the people finder website that came up as the top hit. Then her eye caught something familiar: the name of Christ College of Colorado, their alma mater. She clicked the link and found Tabitha’s bio on the college’s alumni page. It hadn’t been updated in about six years, but it listed her location as Georgia. She went to one of the social networking sites Shaun had bugged her to join once and typed “Tabitha Vaughn” + Georgia into the search box. Only two profiles appeared, including one that was marked as private, but the picture next to the name was definitely her.

Seeing Tabitha’s face after so long brought back a deluge of memories. Double dates, sneaking out-and back in – after curfew, studying for finals and envying how easily Tabitha’s straight A’s came to her. She was reminded yet again of the falling out that had come right after their graduation. She chewed her lip, debating. Was this worth it?

No harm in trying- or at least, not much. She clicked a link beneath Tabitha’s name and began writing her a message.

Dear Tabitha,

She stopped, thinking. What did one say to someone after twenty years? Should she ease into things, not explain right away her reasons for tracking her down? Should she apologize? An apology over email didn’t seem appropriate, given how harsh she’d been the last day they’d spoken. But then what should she say?

She agonized for a few minutes before giving up on propriety.

I know this is out of nowhere, and I hope you’ll forgive me for being so forward, but I’m desperate for some help and you’re the only person I can think of that might understand what I’m going through. If you’d be willing to talk to me – and I’ll understand if you aren’t-please call me.

She ended with her name and phone number, then her email address in case Tabitha couldn’t handle such an intimate exchange. She waited expectantly, watching her inbox for a new message, then chided herself for her impatience and went to the kitchen for tea.

The phone rang as she was stirring in the sugar. Her nerves jangled with each ring as she gathered her courage to answer. She picked it up just before it went to voicemail. “H-hello?”

“Savannah Robertson Trover, is that really you?”

Tabitha’s jovial tone put Savannah at ease. She could practically hear her friend’s smile, and could certainly picture it. “It is. Wow – it’s been too long. And it’s my fault. Tabitha, I am so sorry. So truly, deeply sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”

Tabitha made a familiar noise of dismissal. “Water under the bridge. Forgiven and forgotten a long time ago.”

“I don’t deserve to be let off the hook that easily.”

“I could call you a couple names if it would make you feel better.”

She laughed, though it made her sad to realize how long she’d gone without the wit and insights and love of the only person, besides Shaun, with whom she’d ever felt a soul connection. “Oh, Tabs. It’s so good to hear your voice.”

“It’s good to hear yours, too. Though I’ve got to ask-are you alright? Because your message sure sounded concerning.”

Savannah gripped the phone tighter and begged the universe for Tabitha’s understanding and help. “The very short story is that my faith is… gone.”

“Oh. Goodness.”

“Yes, you could say that.”

“What happened?”

“Well, that’s the funny part. I don’t know. I mean, I honestly don’t know. I had a heart transplant-”

“I heard about that. Could hardly believe it given how healthy you always were.”

“I know, right? And ever since, it’s like my spirituality has just disappeared. And I don’t have anyone I can talk to here who understands. I – I thought you might be able to offer me a little commiseration.”

Tabitha’s laughter was sympathetic. “Oh, girlfriend. Can I ever. I’ll bet you’re feeling pretty claustrophobic. Isolated, too.”

“Yes, exactly!”

“Why don’t you come visit me?”

Savannah gasped. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely. We’ve got plenty of room. Fly into Atlanta; I’ll give you our address. Just come whenever you want. I’m always here.”

Savannah scanned her calendar, which held nothing but two doctor appointments. “Provided I can get a flight with my miles, I can come the day after tomorrow. Wednesday.”

“Pot roast night; you’ll love it.”

Savannah laughed, a feeling of lightness buoying her soul for the first time in months. “I can’t wait. And I can’t wait to see you.”

“Me neither. Listen, I have an appointment in ten, so I need to run. Let me give you my contact info.”