I turned my neck to see Chris sitting in a chair, reading some kind of psychology magazine. "Chris, what the hell am I doing here?" I asked.

His head snapped up, at attention and focused on me. "JC!!" he said, popping up loaded with ever present energy, and then bending down and tried to hug me, best that he could with me being in a hospital bed, connected to machines, some with...insert shudders here...needles.

"Okay, Chris, get off me, what's going on here?" I asked.

"What do you want to know?" he asked, regaining a little control. He sat in the chair, bouncing his leg up and down. Nice to see somethings never, ever change.

"Like how did I get here?" I asked.

"Well," he started. "You and Rosie were in a car accident."

My thoughts went immediately to my girlfriend of one and one half year, Rosalie. She was absolutely the love of my life, there was no doubt about it. Her brown eyes were always searching for something, whether it be just something to do, or someone to talk to. And her blonde hair, not wanting to do anything else with it she told me, was up in a ponytail. She was average to anyone else, and that I liked. But I loved her. And now what? Was she okay? Where was she?

"Is she okay?" I interrupted Chris.

"Umm...JC, I don't want to be the bearer of bad news, but...Rosalie didn't make it. I'm sorry," he said.

You ever have that feeling that you want to cry rivers and oceans, but you can't? That's how I felt right then, and I hated it. "What-"

"JC, you started a perpetual explanation, if you will. Okay, here's how it is. You both came into the ER they said, she was just about dead from blood loss, and you, I don't know. Something weird was going on with your heart. Some glass had pierced it or something."

For the first time I noticed the dull ache in my chest.

"Well, she was going to die. Then, her parents talked to yours, and real quick they made a decision. And...well..."

"Dammit, Chris, just tell me," I said. My girlfriend was dead and witheld information could lead Chris into the hospital bed next to mine.

"Her parents donated her organs," he said.

Suddenly it all came together for me. "You mean..."

Chris nodded. "Yeah. You have her heart."

I closed my eyes. So really she wasn't dead. Because I had her heart in my chest. I could feel it beating, and somehow it was comforting, yet totally creepy and eerie about her heart in my chest, but her kidney maybe halfway across the country to another person who needed one.

"You've been in a coma for about a week," Chris said, bringing me out of my reverie and back to reality. "And the doctor said it would be awhile until you were one hundred percent, but that's expected heart transplant or no heart transplant, right?" he asked cheerfully. I smiled to cover up the real raw emotion that I was feeling.

I kneeled next to the cold stone that served as Rosalie's tombstone. Upon that, I was thinking about how she loved commercials. She said that they were the best part of television. I looked at the stone, proclaiming her name, birthdate, and the day she died. I had missed the funeral because I had been in that damn coma. I had never even gotten the chance to say good-bye.

I looked at the white rose in my hand, and placed it at the base of the grave marker. White roses were her favorite in life, and I supposed that they were in death. I had to do it. I kissed my fingers, and ran them along the name engraved on the stone. "I love you," I whispered. Maybe she heard me, maybe she didn't. I got up and started to walk away. Instead of going back to my car right away, I decided to walk for a little. Walking in a graveyard. What a cheery experience.

I looked up into the sky, and found a seagull that came inland occasionally. Then I knew that she had heard me. It was time to move on. Me and Rosalie's heart.

Ain't it a trip where heros come from?