The latter half of the week crawled. Every waking moment I painfully realized that Kalyope's days were shrinking and I still hadn't made a single advancement towards finding her a new heart. My stomach churns with regret. It's already been four days since I last saw her. I couldn't bring myself to visit her again, to sit there and do nothing while she slowly dies right in front of me. Does that make me a bad friend?

But the weekend had finally come.

After physical therapy, I asked Desiree if she could drop me off at the hospital before she went home. I didn't feel like asking one of the staff members to load me and my wheelchair into a golf cart if I didn't absolutely have to. "No problem, hon," she had said in that thick Czech accent.

Desiree waves goodbye as she pulls away in her cherry red Kia Soul, leaving me alone in front of the hospital's marble slab of monetary donors. I check the name at the top: Benjamin Trout. This is it. And I have no game plan. None.

Perfect.

I take a calming breath before making my way inside the hospital and down the zigzag formation of hallways to the P.I.C.U. Once I'm there, I see a group of children with eager eyes surrounding a man standing in the middle of the hallway. I assume this man to be Benjamin Trout, but I second guess myself at the sight of his casual attire: mint colored polo with skinny jeans. Not exactly what I was expecting from a billion dollar man, but then again, I'm not exactly sure what I was expecting.

Trout is crouched down talking to a little girl, the bald one that I saw previously; she looks even sicker than before, all droopy-eyed and pale. A metal pole with hanging bags of clear liquid is at her side, attached to her body through multiple strands of clear tubes. Trout reaches in to the red bag that he's carrying and gives her a teddy bear. The little girl's face lights up, a toothy grin following. She reaches out with her little hands and pulls the bear in close, squeezing tightly.

I can already tell there's no point in trying to talk to him right this second; I'll need to get him alone when he's finished. In the meantime, I decide to swallow my fear and visit Kalyope. I hear the erratic beeping of the heart rate monitor moments before entering the room. Kalyope is propped up by a long pillow reading a paperback novel, a tray of half-eaten oatmeal that's long gone cold is beside her.

She lifts her head from the book at my entrance, her pouty lips spreading in delight. "McKenzie, what a surprise! What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you, of course." I try concealing my concern. "How ya feeling?"

She speaks over the noise of the fluctuating ECG. "A little tired, I guess. Thankful for another day, though." Her eyes crinkle with joy. Her positive attitude is touching. "Sorry about the other day with me going all zazazazaza on you." She imitates her seizing moment. "That doesn't normally happen."

"Sorry? Why would you be sorry? You almost died! And what do you mean that doesn't normally happen?" I guess it has happened more than once?

"Well, it usually only happens once a week, so . . ." She lets her words fade.

"Once a week!" Kalyope jumps in fright at my outburst. I'm even a bit surprised how loud those words came out. "Sorry. It's just . . . that's kind of a lot. How many times has it happened this week?"

She hesitates for a moment. I give her a firm stare, letting her know I want a straight answer. "Four." She buries her face in her palms. I'm not sure if it's to hide her shame or tears or what.

I reach for her hand. She looks up at me, her eyes watery. I desperately want to say something that will make her feel better, but there are simply no words on earth that will make her feel better, except me telling her that I have a new heart for her. Which I don't. Not yet at least.

I suddenly realize the emptiness of the room. "Where's your family?"

"Work," she says. "Medical bills aren't cheap. Health insurance doesn't cover as much as it used to. And as much as they'd like to spend what may be my last days with me, there's nothing they can do for me here. So they come after work and sit with me through the night, go home for an hour of sleep, then back to work." She hangs her head. "I'm to blame." Then smacks the left side of her chest with her fist. "If this stupid thing would beat properly, then they wouldn't have to work themselves to death."

That sounds like something Aurora would have said.

I try switching subjects. "Weird question: what's your blood type?"

She looks at me skeptically. "Um. O-positive, I think. Why do you ask?"

I release a happy sigh. From what I've gathered from those medical shows mother watches, O-positive is the most common blood type on the planet. If I am to get Kalyope a heart, then at least I won't have to face finding a heart only compatible with a rare blood type. "Just curious." I try to seem as casual as possible with my answer.

I stay with her for a few minutes longer before letting her know that I need to get back to the Center. After departing, I find Trout finishing up his visitation with the children.

"Mr. Trout!" I call out to him

He spins around; a well-kept silver beard is the first thing I see. "Oh. Well, hello there, young lady. Did I forget to give you a gift?" I can feel the kindness in his calming voice.

"Oh. No, no. I was just here visiting a friend. But I did have something I wanted to ask you. May I have a minute of your time?"

"Well, certainly."

I maneuver my wheelchair off to the side of the hallway, lowering my voice as I speak. He crouches down next to my chair, leaning his back against the eggshell-colored wall. "I'm not really sure how to start this question or even finish it for that matter." I pause, squeezing my eyes shut. "I need you to help get my friend a new heart. If she doesn't get one soon, then she won't get one at all." At the first sight of confusion on his wrinkled face, I realize I haven't explained myself well enough. "She needs a heart transplant, but she doesn't have the lifespan to wait for a donor. Isn't there some way you can expedite the process? Please!"

He sucks back a deep breath, slowly expelling it from his lungs. "I see your dilemma, child, but I'm not sure there's anything I can do for your friend. That kind of thing is out of my hands. I may have helped fund this hospital, but I can't control how it functions. These things just have to work themselves out, and if it's meant for your friend to find a heart, then I'm sure they will." My hopes splinter at his response. This was the man I had been waiting to talk to, my final resort, and he's telling me he can't do a single thing to help.

"Please." My voice comes out a whimper. "I don't know what else to do. I don't even know why I feel I should do this. I just do."

He lays a gentle hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry." He lets his hand linger there for a moment before leaving.

Now I truly do feel alone in this endeavor; no one to ask for help, no one to turn to for guidance, a near impossible feat hanging in front of me. And to raise the already elevated stakes, I have to do it in a week or else my mission will be a failed one and a life lost.

I sit here alone in the hallway and cry.

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