On the follow up appointment with Dr. Seward, he said mitral valve prolapse was a symptom typical in patients with connective tissue disorders, including Marfan syndrome. While my heart murmur was mild, he recommended I undergo an echocardiogram annually to keep a sonic eye out for aortic enlargement, which could lead to fatal dissection or detachment when the heart was stressed. Surely, something to look forward to down the road.

Two weeks before my uncurled-spine day, I moped around the house with nothing to do, as I’d quit my job at the supermarket. My parents didn’t hassle me about the time off. They had a better idea of what I was in for post-surgery than I did, but they didn’t let on. When I wasn’t listening to music or shooting hoops by myself in the backyard, I orbited the kitchen telephone, picking it up randomly, listening to the dial tone, then hanging up. The initial pickup-and-hang-ups were me struggling with the urge to call Mercy, but then it became this thing where I imagined I lifted the phone off the cradle at the precise moment Mercy called me, and all she’d hear on her end was a busy signal and she’d either get frustrated or maybe think that I’d moved on, found another friend, maybe even the register guy at the Record Rack and he and I were doing totally cool punk stuff, which I knew didn’t make sense that she’d equate a busy tone with me not being on the phone and out doing totally cool punk stuff with someone else, but don’t harsh my daydream mellow.

I was surprised you didn’t call to apologize to me.

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